08.30.2132 - The Return Home

[Johan]

We need to regroup on this. I'll forward an e-mail, very likely tonight.

Specific Points:
I'm feel pretty strongly about the positions of the fireplaces. "Vintage" architecture would have a single fire in the living area, since while you slept you were well insluated from cold, and the stones (which were hard to find and create into a fireplace / chimney) would heat the place residually through the night - everyone gets the benefit from that heat, and it made the building easier.

I have a recollection that at this point, Temmit didn't have Smokey. I think there's an e-mail (from what: years ago?) that suggests that this is the ICD where Temmit meets Smokey. I have to look that up.

[Dray]

Correct. I deleted my post and upon our finished collaboration and review of the heating requirements of the home we will proceed.

I have a girl in hell to attend too first.

[Dray]

In the family room, Temmit had sat within his father's old chair and by the fire for hours. He had initially convinced himself that he needed a short rest after the long journey to his former home. It was now late, and after one hour turned to two, two turned to three, his new excuse not to investigate the bedrooms was now to wait for dawn and the morning light.

He didn't want to sleep here, but he obviously had no choice, his body was going to need at least a short reprieve from his mind. As he thought of how to combat the inevitable, the fire was begging him for another log and his coffee had long since turned cold. The desire to change either of these two conditions did not win over his fatigue and after a few times of startling himself awake, his heavy eyelids finally closed for the last time and he slipped into...


He sat on the floor playing with a wood puzzle that he had already solved a hundred times. His Daddy sat by the fire in his big chair, his long legs crossed under a thin stone tile which he used often as a portable writing surface.

His mother was only a few further feet away in the kitchen, her arms elbow-deep in dishwater suds.

Nalla would be home in a few days after her year in school and Temmit couldn't wait to wrap his arms around his big sister.

He watched his parents as they 'did it again'. Without looking at one another, they both took turns making facial expressions, or actually laughing or smirking, even though only silence filled the gaps in between. Only once in awhile would they actually say something out loud, often startling their three-year old son in the process.

Temmit was used to this, and he too had learned to talk to his inside voice. He just couldn't wait until the day when he could use it like Mommy and Daddy did, because his own voice never answered back.

His Mommy, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she walked, went over behind her husband.
"Freehand again?" she said with a smile, breaking the silence. She leaned over his shoulder and picked up a sketch that he had laid in wait on the chair's arm.

His father didn't reply, but a few moments later his mother replied as if continuing like he had, "...yes well, you barely know this priest and yet he shares his...." she stopped. She turned and looked to Temmit, a look on her face as being caught doing something naughty.

Temmit knew he had caught her talking to Daddy;s inside voice, so he performed his signature 'gotcha' move. With a big, single-swing and slow wave he said "Heyas."
She burst out laughing and although she started walking to him, she turned back to his Daddy. He looked at her in response to whatever she was saying to his inside voice, then looked at Temmit as he replied "not to worry".

His Mommy reached him and the puzzle and leaned over to kiss him on the head, she then cupped his chin with her soft hand, still cold from the dishwater.

"You are adorable," she said to him. She smelled pleasantly of soap.

"I know," Temmit responded matter of factly, "it's my job,' verifying the job description that his Daddy gave him last week. At the time, Temmit had wanted to know how he could help around the house. He was always glad to help.

The scene faded with Temmit's last dreamscape focused on the adoration coming from his mother's eyes. His consciousness slipped deeper into sleep, a sleep far more serene than anything he had experienced since he was that toddler age.

Many hours later, Temmit awoke on the floor of his family room. The sun through the window had warmed the blanket upon his lieing form. A blanket he hadn't recalled retrieving at any point in the night.

He lay their feigning sleep for awhile, wondering if anyone was in the room with him. Finally satisfied that he was alone, he looked about. The fire had gone out, and everything was in it's proper place in the family room.

Perhaps he did indeed retrieve it...it smelled like soap.

[Johan]

Temmit's senses were on high as he rose and streatched his sore muscles. His stomach growled noisily.

As he rolled out from under the blanket the full cool of the morning settled upon him. He knew that it was likely very warm out, but it was cooler than being under the blanket, and so he shivered a bit.

Breakfast was a pleasant pot of coffee and hard bread with salted meat. He cast about the small house as he ate it. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. However, his eyes and ears belied his nagging gut.

After he was done eating, and couldn't think of any more excuses to NOT look around, he got his day under way, looking about in the house. He started in his own room.

[Dray]

...it was, after all, the easiest of the three bedrooms.

From the moment he opened the door he felt too big, every piece of furniture obviously being a lot smaller than he remembered it. The air was stale, so he walked the few steps across the room to pull back the old and dusty curtains to open the room's window.

The sunlight poured in, revealing a toddler-sized bed, a shelf of toys (including the neatly stacked infamous puzzle) and a bureau that probably still contained a bunch of little-person clothes. Temmit knew that there wouldn't be anything of value to him here, 12 years later, and that the only thing to find here however, was memories. Memories with characters almost visible as ghosts performing in that very room...

"Time for bed soldier!" exclaimed his father happily. Temmit who had been carried into the room, was tossed across it. He landed with a bounce off the bed and a ricochet off the back wall. The three year old squealed in glee even as he recovered and then climbed under the covers.

His Daddy leaned over to tuck in the youngster, his long, slightly-blue colored crystal dangling on a leather throng from his neck.

"We will go riding tomorrow?!" Temmit asked, already knowing the answer, but just wanting to hear verification for the sheer thrill of the idea.

"Yes, we certainly will," he replied.

Nalla spoke from the bedroom doorway, "And Mommy has a big picnic basket with chicken, chocolate and apple cider," she said, naming her favorite things.

"And coffee snips?!" Temmit asked, naming his favorite candy.

His father nodded as he reached into his pocket while hiding his actions from the view of his daughter behind him. He pulled out and offered a coffee snip to Temmit while he made a shushing gesture with his forefinger to his lips.

Temmit barely contained himself as he grabbed the secret delicacy.

His Dad paused, mussed his hair and then wished him good dreams as he ushered Nalla out.

"You gave him a snip didn't you Dad?" Temmit heard Nalla ask as the door closed.

"What? Mommy would kill me, I dare not risk it," was the muffle reply Temmit heard.

"Nothing to find here," Temmit said to the empty room as he choked back the once forgotten memory. 'Perhaps this wasn't the easiest room.'
 

[Johan]

Temmit strapped his chest tightly again. He intentionally and intently inspected the room for signs of termites, mice, or other potentially destructive vermin. Cobwebs decorated the room all about, and husks of insects littered the corners of the room.

He quickly opened the window to change the air and left the room, barely breathing as he did.

Once back in the family room his jaw unclenched a bit and he breathed again. Perhaps Nalla's room would be a better choice. He made his way mechanically across the family room.

[Dray]

As he stepped into Nalla's room Temmit smirked, he had almost forgotten how odd her bed was. The frame wasn't a frame at all, but a section of tree-truck as if cut parallel with the ground. It was a very valuable piece of the ancient pine from the outlands and almost six full feet in diameter and almost a foot thick. It was pedestal mounted on an ornate system of cast iron "roots".

Temmit again opened a window and almost startled himself at his own reflection in the mirror over the bureau. She was only a few years older when she...well, a few years older and just getting to the "play dress up" stage. Make-up kits, brushes and costume jewelry were neatly arranged along the bureau's top.

The back door to the house opened and their father, along with the driving snow, entered the corridor adjacent to her room (note, I am reworking the map to reflect this). All of his riding gear had just been thrown on in a hurry and his wife came over to him  (from the family room) now to strap it all down.

Nalla and Temmit, who had been playing in her room, watched the scene unfold before Nalla's bedroom doorway.

"Do you have everything? Enough food and water? It's going to take a lot longer to reach the Keep cross-country in this mid-winter snow," their Mommy said. She was speaking in a nervous rush as she tightened and fixed his cold-weather gear.

Their Daddy cupped her chin with his gloved hand to make her stop fussing, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"I will be alright," he said to her, almost in a whisper.

She hugged him, turning her face towards her children as her head lay on his chest. When she opened her eyes, she suddenly smiled as she looked upon her to children in audience.

"Yes...but will Temmit?" she asked.

His Daddy turned to look in the room and they both tried unsuccessfully to stifle their laughter.

Temmit was standing next to his sister, his now very proud make-up artist, while wearing one of his sister's old dresses. His hair was in pig-tails and his face was lined with every color of make-up from the kit. Nalla just smiled and enjoyed the display of her handiwork.

The moment of stress was relieved. His Mommy kissed his Daddy goodbye and he departed.

Temmit released himself from the memory and focused on what his eyes had been staring at it, Nalla's Academic – Age 6 schoolbooks, the title 'Good Faith, Good Citizen' the title of the top one.

[Johan]

Temmit regretted that it was that particular memory that climbed out from his subconscious. Had Nalla still been with him, no doubt it would be a sore spot that she had violated him that way.

Temmit fed the irritation, trying to coax it into full aggrivation, lest it descend toward lamentation. The bed, naturally, was in good though dusty condition. The window was a little sticky and the glass of it was dirty. Dust and cobwebs decorated the room, and again there were insect husks about under those cobwebs. There was evidence that mice had visited the room as well.

Nothing of true interest though. He opened the wardrobe, fully expecting nothing but girl's musty clothes. His parents' room would be next then.

[Dray]

His parents' window didn't open as easily as the others, having jammed after years of non-use. Temmit made a mental note on his check-list of things to fix and forced it open.

Turning around, he faced the room and its very simple furnishings.

Temmit lay on his stomach under the bed waiting for his father to come in so he could roll out from underneath and spook him. He wished his father would hurry, it was so cramped under here with all of his parent's things. Even the edge of the trapdoor in the floor was starting to bother him, his father must not have shut it all the way, and it was now poking him in the ribs. He was tempted to look inside, but the last time he attempted that, and got caught, was a subsequent lecture from his mother that he would never forget.

Just as he considered investigating the trapdoor anyway, his father stepped into the room, Temmit squealed in glee a little too early as he rolled from underneath and...

"That is quite enough of the memory department today thank you," Temmit said aloud, vanquishing the vision into the back of his mind. The emotional strap about his chest was constricting and he took a moment to loosen up.

He stared at the bed for he knew not how long. Finally, he flipped the mattress (just barely big enough for two people) away from the steel frame. Through the steel mesh he scanned the contents that appeared to have laid untouched for the last twelve years.

It was the trapdoor in the floor that caught his immediate attention. It wasn't hidden by boxes, but only had it's frame surrounded by them. Upon the closed trapdoor, as if placed there, was his father's 4" long quartz crystal, alone and without the leather throng that once carried it.

[Johan]

Temmit's initial curiosity regarding the belongings that had always been under that bed, as well as that regarding the trap door, melted away at the sight of the small crystal.

It was one of his father's most treasured possessions, though why, exactly, Temmit never knew. It was odd: Temmit was sure that the crystal had been a rather bright blue for the most part. This one was dull and clear. He wondered whether it was the very same crystal, but he held the conviction that it was. It was exactly the same shape and size, if not color. He momentarily doubted his memory.

The fact that it was here was more than odd. Who put it there? When? Why? Where was the leather thong? As these questions and more shot through his mind, he unconsciously reached down and picked the little stone up, examining it rather closely. It was dusty.

He sat down on the bed frame and regarded the crystal for a moment, peeking through it and around it, looking at the other items that lay arrayed before him.

The thought ocurred to him: this might well be a long day.

[Dray]

Item after item he sifted thru, occasionally one would bring back a small memory of either parent. Temmit, concentrating on the task at hand, catalogued each memory into a mental file that he could reference at a later time if required.

He wasn't second in his House for nothing ('damn that Jeremy Wilkins!').

There was nothing of seeming importance upon the floor and he was left with only the unknown content beyond the trapdoor, which he slowly opened. He cursed himself immediate afterwards though, "it could have been trapped stupid!" he reprimanded himself.

"Remember your training boy," he said, repeating the words of his HouseMaster Hovric.

He scanned the contents.

Laying atop everything was his father's leather "sketching satchel". Temmit was immediately disturbed however, for his trained eye noted something amiss. He left the room, retrieved an old oil lantern and brought it back to examine this recently revealed evidence.

As the dry wick and old oil spat smoke with a flame that was an angry flicker, he used the light to take a closer look at the layer of dust within the cavity in the floor. As he suspected, he saw an outline (of dust) left behind by items no longer there. The theft was further betrayed by the slight impression upon the leather satchel left behind by weight of the missing items. Upon careful consideration he demised that the two stolen goods were; a book of about 7" x 10" and something else that was 4" in diameter, the latter having some heft and probably therefore metal. Judging the distance between the recently closed trapdoor and the top of the satchel, both items couldn't have been more than about an inch thick.

This evidence investigated fully, Temmit cautiously lifted his father's satchel out of the cavity in the floor and set it aside.

Items covered by the satchel could be defined as his father's treasure. A fine looking dagger with a aquamarine gem in it's hilt lay in an ornate scabbard. Beside it, some kind of incredibly old tomb or journal, it's black leather cover dried from the ages and cracked. The cover was so dry that it's corners were frayed at the edges with the upper right corner actually missing. There was no markings or title upon the face of the book.

Adjacent to the bottom of this old book was what appeared to be a bag of coins, the cloth around which revealed its contents after settling over the years as the bag lie in wait. To the right of these items was a column of small books stacked two by three. Temmit recognized them as his father's personal journals.

[Johan]

The satchel was laden with a number of somethings that Temmit decided to investigate later. The threadbare bag of coins caught his eye instantly, and piqued his curiosity just as quickly.

The things that had been removed from thier place on top of the satchel had been so removed only recently. The circle of dust was testament to that. BUT, why take those two posessions, and leave a full bag of coins and an ornamented dagger only a hand's-width away?

Temmit wondered what it might be that was worth someone taking when money was not worth their taking? Then, of course, it suggested that the intruder knew what he (or she) was after, and knew where it was (none of the other rooms had been tampered with, afterall), and that the round thing as well as the book (or plaque, or whatever it might have been) were far more valuable to them than the money was...an odd thought to be sure. The dagger, Temmit could understand: it might be traceable, and the intruder might be given away by it.

THEN, there was the fact that the intruder also placed everything back where it had been. Had the little crystal that was found been in that spot before the intruder? Why would they have put that back where they did?

There was nothing but questions so far. Of the items left in the little cubby, the ancient book drew Temmit's attention. He carefully reached for the book and lifted it from the storeage area with the greatest care.

[Dray]

Temmit  placed the book down flat on an empty space on the floor, clear from the boundary of his parents bed-frame. Cautiously, so as not to damage the fragile book, he moved the tattered cover open with one finger to reveal the front page.

A bit to his surprise the very first page was not a title page as he had expected, but a wall of text bereft of an indent. For all indication it appeared a continuation of another volume of work.

What was more disturbing however was that the text appeared to be some sort of symbolic code, and a complex one at that. Temmit had heard of such things but could not make sense of it.

(The text is just in a different language and Temmit doesn't recognize this fundamental concept. Why? Because "languages" do not exist in this world, since everyone in Safe-Haven speaks one common language. The idea or notion that anyone could write, let alone write, in another language is an alien concept).

[Johan]

Mysteries stacked upon mysteries. The odd glyphs, of course, posed questions (mostly what they meant and how he might read them - had Temmit's mother or father been able to read them?), the fact that this book looked to be a second volume (where would the first be? Had the first been stolen? Why steal only one?).

Temmit wondered whether the twin to this book might be around the house...the only obvious place would be on the shelf in his own room. Under Nalla's matress would be another spot to look. A foot-thick piece of ancient pine might be a good spot to hide things, and hiding things seemed to be in someone's blood (very likely his father's if all these memories served).

A thought spawned in his mind regarding these thefts. The oddity of them was that some things were stolen while other (obviously valuable things) were not. One possible reason for this is that the items that had been taken might have been so taken by an ally. Perhaps they would be incriminating items, or had belonged to someone close to Temmit's father, and they came to either reclaim them or to take them lest Temmit's family (now only Temmit himself, naturally) be prosecuted for their possession.

He would have to digest these thoughts through the summer. In either event, these items were likely as safe under the trap door today as they had been yesterday. He flipped through the pages of the tome quickly to see if there were any illustrations or any common text hidden in the pages. At the same time, he more or less hoped that he might be able to determine whether there was any more recent text towards the end of the writing. Say...text from 12 years ago?

[Dray]

Temmit was careful but he flipped two quickly and a section of some of the more brittle pages literally cracked in half. He was careful to put them back into the book where they were and flipped the book over by it's cover so he could better turn to the end.

Unfortunately the symbolic writing was the same at the back as it was in the front. What's more, it appeared to not actually end on the last page, speaking to the possibility of a third volume.