Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 01 Ch. 014

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.

This chapter is, however, very SFW!)

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Questions in the Dark

Atyr spent the rest of the afternoon trying helplessly to come up with a clear, detailed list of questions in his mind, to be certain to pick every scrap of information out of his meeting with Helliot. He had no intention of helping the tall man with whatever his problem might be, but so far this seemed like the best bet to actually begin to understand this new, fae situation. Kella's dark hair had a beautiful red-gold glow to it when the sun hit it.

He dragged his mind back. If children's tales held any truth, the details of agreements with the Fae could be very important. That's why Atyr had made doubly certain that he was under no requirement to do anything but listen to Helliot's story. He wasn't entirely sure if Kella's eyes were truly brown at all; they were dark enough they might almost be black. He shook his head. His first question should obviously be to ask about the mark on his arm: what it meant, what a Class was. From there...

He had been completely mortified for a brief moment when he had sat down into the stream like an idiot, but her little giggle, her laughter... from there, the next obvious thing he needed to know was whether or not he had some kind of obligation to Pesky, some 'Quest' to go on as Bird had implied. Pesky said not, but Pesky said a lot of things. For one, she seemed to think Atyr had fallen for Kella, which was obviously ridiculous. Well, after this afternoon, maybe that was different, but before...?

Quests. Quests. Did he owe Pesky one now or something? Oh, and Experience. What was that about?

His stomach groaned a bit. He hadn't eaten since breaking his fast that morning. It was too bad he hadn't ended up sharing a meal with Kella...

As the gloom began to settle, Atyr walked back across town to meet Helliot at the Birdhouse. His list of questions was still muddled in his head, but the time for planning was over. He wondered if he might see Kella, but the door was shut, and only a faint light shone from one of the windows. He briefly considered knocking, but that seemed a bit invasive, especially after dark. Did Kella even spend her nights here? He wasn't sure.

He was still staring at the front door, mind rambling from thought to thought, none of them concerned with his recent fae misadventures, when a deep, refined voice spoke quietly behind him.

"I do so very much appreciate your punctuality. Punctuality is, in many ways, at the most honest heart of an agreement."

Atyr turned around. Helliot's black clothing disappeared into the growing gloom, but the red strips somehow held their rich color, embers against the darkness.

"Oh, hi. Uh, thanks for coming back."

"My thanks to you for your return as well, Mr. Bracken." Helliot nodded his head gracefully at the trees. "Might we relocate off of the path for some additional privacy? I suspect our conversation might be one that could provoke unfortunate curiosity from passers by, should they find you deep in conversation with, as the would no doubt see it, yourself. Unfortunate for us both, but perhaps for you in particular. I could, of course, solve for that problem in the manner we used this morning, but I do hate to waste more of your Time unnecessarily."

Right. That whole time thing. Atyr mentally added that to his list of questions. What exactly had happened there? With all the weirdness of recent days, things like that were beginning to seem less noteworthy.

He nodded, then immediately wondered if he had just made a new agreement with the dark gentleman. Agreements did seem to play a large role in how Helliot liked to interact. Too late now.

Once they were a ways off through the trees, down the backside of the hill, Helliot turned, smiling, and spread his red-gloved hands expectantly.

Atyr looked at him, unsure just what it was that the gentleman expected. "So, do we just start with questions now, or...?"

"My dear Mr. Bracken, the terms of our agreement indicated that, before anything else, I would completely satisfy your questioning mind, to the best of my abilities. I am therefore, eagerly, at your disposal."

Atyr nodded. "Oh. Alright. So, this morning then. Time. You did something, and the world stopped. What was that?"

Helliot smiled apologetically and inclined his head. "I must admit to some small discomfort that you chose to begin with that particular question. I should like nothing more than to answer it, but I'm not certain it is a question that can be truly answered." As Atyr's face grew suspicious, the tall man held his hands up placatingly. "Please do not misunderstand me Mr. Bracken, I will certainly try. It is not that I am refusing the question, only that I do not know whether I can answer it in a manner which will explain it satisfactorily."

Atyr settled back and nodded slowly, calmed by the words.

"Mr. Bracken, we all have a certain amount of Time here. Some more, some less. Though we may often wish it dearly, no person may have more Time than they have. Nor may a person have less. It is the amount that it is."

Atyr was frowning, already confused. "You mean, it's somehow set, how long we will live?"

"Not at all. You see now my apprehension. Already I have lead you astray. Allow me to make a second attempt. It is not that a person's Time is predetermined, but rather that, however long, in the end, it may turn out to have been, that is the only length there is to it." When Atyr still looked baffled, Helliot continued. "Imagine you had died in Abarabirdadellet's Healing House. Oh yes, I know young Bird. Imagine you had died, however. You would no longer be here, correct? No matter how much many might wish it otherwise, your Time would have Ended, and there would be no more of it.

"Now, if we take the inverse, you must also agree that, given that you are here, and that you have not yet died (most fortunately I must attest, Mr. Bracken) that there is no way to take the Time you have had from you. Were tragedy to befall you on the morrow, you would still have spent today as you did. Your Time would remain unchanged, as it must always be."

There was an implied question there, asking if Atyr had understood. He hadn't understood at all, but he nodded slowly anyway. Helliot seemed aware that the explanation was falling short, and smiled apologetically. Nevertheless, he continued.

"Your Time however, is under no requirement to proceed directly from moment to moment in sequence, plodding mindlessly along in order, from one to two to three. This morning, you and I agreed that I might borrow some of your Time from another time, and so we used up the briefest of moments now, when it was, I hope you will agree, most useful."

Atyr thought he understood. "So, you took time from later in my life and used it up now?"

"To be precise, the Time was from 'later in your life' as you put it, and so it cannot be said to have been used now. It is Time from later, and so it was used later, and can only have been used later. We just ordered it between two moments which came earlier."

Atyr's shimmer of understanding slipped away from him. "So now... does this mean I'm going to die earlier or something?"

Helliot smiled at him. "It was but the briefest of moments, Mr. Bracken."

Atyr chilled slightly, remembering that he was, in fact treating with the fae. A simple agreement to lend a stranger a moment of your time might shave actual time off the end of your life. Or... maybe not. He still didn't understand.

"Mr. Bracken, I will reiterate that I remain uncertain I can do this topic justice. Might I suggest we move on? The decision is yours of course. I remain at your service until you are fully satisfied."

Atyr thought for a moment, and decided he wasn't sure he wanted to understand all this about his Time any better, even if he could make it start to make sense.

"I, yeah, maybe that's wise."

Helliot nodded graciously.

"Ok, so... I have this mark on my arm." He pulled up his sleeve. "Pesky says it's my Class, but I have no idea what that means. So I guess the question is, what is a Class?"

"Ah, right into the thick of it!" Helliot clapped his gloves together briskly. "I can answer your question in two ways. I can give a brief answer, which will be accurate and succinct, but may provide you with little of real value. Or, if you will allow me a bit of a preamble, I believe I can give you a truer understanding."

"Can I, maybe have the short version first?"

"Certainly, certainly. The answer, in brief, is that your Class is merely a description of who you are at a very simplistic level. More accurately, it is a description of how you are, and how you are likely to become."

"Yes, Pesky said something like that. Maybe the long answer after all?"

Helliot bowed, velvet streamers glowing dark cherry amongst the shadows. "A wise decision. Allow me to begin by describing the distinction between the mortal, and the immortal. One might say that mortals die and immortals do not, but that, though with a sort of truth to it, is ultimately false. You, Mr. Bracken, are mortal, I presume? And yet, you are not currently dead, and we have no absolute assurance that you one day will be. It is likely, admittedly, and it would be a thing nearly unheard of for a human to continue without end. It does however, come back to time. No person's time is knowable until it ends. Perhaps someday a mortal will continue without an end to their Time." He shrugged. "Only time will tell. A joke, Mr. Bracken, if you will forgive my momentary levity."

Atyr was feeling lost, but he had to assume all this was somehow related to his Ranger/Rogue markings.

"And I, as you may have guessed, am immortal. But yet, I may certainly be killed. Death is no stranger to the ranks of the immortals, I can assure you. No, Mr. Bracken, death is not a distinction which separates the mortal and immortal worlds."

Helliot paused here expectantly, so Atyr nodded again, chewing his lip.

"But age, age one might protest, age affects mortals. Truth! Mortals age, and become old, and die. But do not many among the immortals fade with time, dwindle and diminish? No, aging is no more a distinction than is death. So what, you may be wondering, is the bright line between us?"

Hoping to demonstrate some level of understanding, Atyr offered, "Is it magic? Fae have magic?"

"'Immortals', Mr Bracken, if you'll forgive my correction. 'Fae' is... it is a messy term, and does not describe many of us. But no, 'magic' is not the distinction it might seem. From our point of view, what you call magic is merely a part of the mundane world. 'Magic' is, as mortals most often use the term, only a description of the distinction between the habits of mortal and immortal, and so it becomes tautological. No, that isn't it at all."

This last bit was very much not making sense to Atyr, but he also wasn't certain he much cared. "So, not death, not aging, not magic. What, then?"

"Yes indeed, what then? Well, an excellent question, and one to which I have an answer. It is the difference between inside and out, between the surface of a thing, and the whole thing. Might I have the apple from your pack?"

Atyr blinked, surprised that the strange man seemed to have such intimate knowledge of the contents of his bag. Nevertheless, he pulled it out and handed it over.

"My thanks, Mr. Bracken. Now, if one were to look at this apple, only to look mind you, how might one describe it?"

Atyr was well and truly lost now. "Is this still about my Class?"

"I do apologize if I seem to be meandering far afield, but please believe that this is all in service of a final answer with which I do intend to provide you."

"Ok then, well, I guess I would say it is round, and red."

"Is that all?"

"Ummm, it has a stem?"

"A perfectly adequate description Mr. Bracken. Now, would you say that redness, roundness, and the presence of a stem are what make an apple an apple?"

"I don't follow..."

"Imagine, if you will, that I handed you an object. It is red. it is round, and it has a stem. Is it an apple?"

"I suppose, yes?"

"Imagine that object is a rock, which I have painted red, and to which I have affixed the stem of an apple."

"Well then, no, obviously."

"Precisely Mr. Bracken. It is a rock, a painted rock with a stem affixed. Now, what does make an object an apple?"

Atyr wasn't sure he remembered the original question at this point. "Well, I guess it's round, usually, and red, or green or yellow, and sweet, or maybe sour, and it has flesh and seeds, and skin, and ah, well it grows on trees and... honestly a whole ton of stuff, I'm not really sure. It's just an apple."

"Precisely. As you so pithily put it, 'a whole ton of stuff'. Now, imagine you understand apples as you do, inside and out, where and how they grow, how they taste, how they smell, feel: all the things that make an apple an apple." Helliot smiled encouragingly. "Imagine now, a small infant, too young to speak, or even to eat such food as apples. How might that tiny child experience the apple?"

Atyr thought back. "... Do you mean the baby would only see it the way I first described it?"

"Precisely, Mr. Bracken. May I commend you on your swift intuitions in this case. Precisely. The infant would understand the apple only as something which is red, and round, and, if they are a perceptive child, they might also take note of the stem. You, Atyr Bracken, know what an apple is. The infant sees only the surface.

"And that, I contend, is the distinction. The mortal world is one of surfaces, of illusions, a world viewed as an infant views an apple, red and round. An immortal understands what the world is in all its aspects, flavor, smell, weight, heat, emotion.

"And now we come to it. A Class. Each person has a Class. I do, Pesky does, you do, our dear friend Abarabirdadellet and her charming young assistant, your beloved Ms Thorn both do. Whether a person develops it or is aware of it, it is there. It is, as I indicated previously, the briefest, most general description of how a person is."

Helliot seemed to think this explained things well, but Atyr was as lost as ever. "So... what does the apple thing have to do with Classes?"

Red velvet fingers trailed dramatically through the air. "It is the apple, Mr. Bracken. For the first time, you are able to see a little more than 'red' and 'round', and to understand just a bit of what the apple is. Class is part of how the world works, beneath the surface, a working to which you now have some level of access."

Atyr was not sure whether that increased his confusion, or his comprehension. Maybe both. "I guess... Are you trying to say I can see the world at a deeper level now?"

Helliot was quiet a moment, looking thoughtful. "Mr. Bracken, are you aware of the concept of a lens?"

Atyr shook his head slowly.

"Not a worry, Mr. Bracken, they are an odd, modern implement, of no practical use for the day to day cares of most people. Well, a lens is merely a piece of glass or crystal, plate-shaped, but with a curvature to it, thusly." He indicated a flat, curving shape with his hands. "Looking through a lens at the world, you may see things differently than you otherwise would. For example, some devices utilize lenses to allow one to see farther, and with greater clarity than is usually practicable. Other lenses allow one to view what is small as though it were larger. If you would oblige me, observe this apple. Closely." He held the apple a hands breadth from Atyr's face. Atyr observed it.

"Now, Mr. Bracken, you may notice more about the surface than merely its redness or roundness. You may see small patterns on the skin, blemishes, imperfections, many details that would pass a casual observer by. However, with a lens, a magnifying lens, you would be able to see far, far more detail on the surface, an incredible, unbelievable level of detail. So much detail that to you it might almost seem to be what you would call magic."

Helliot stared at him intently. "But a lens will never allow you taste the apple, to weigh the apple, to know what it is to find bits of apple entrapped in one's teeth. A lens will tell you nothing about the growing of an apple, or of the rotting. What you have now, Mr Bracken, is a lens. More of the surface detail of our world will now be apparent to you. You will notice things that slipped past you before. But, it is different still to know a thing inside. With a lens, Mr. Bracken, it is possible to--"

"Um, Mr. Helliot?" Atry broke in. "I'm sorry, but I'm still not clear. Is the apple supposed to be my Class?"

"I apologize if I have lead you into confusion Mr. Bracken. Please recall that this is only a metaphorical apple. With metaphor, many concepts available to the practical world must be discarded in service of--"

"Mr. Heliot?"

"Eh... Yes?"

"Would it be possible to do sort of a quick, practical version of what a Class is? You know, a short description, and how it might directly affect me? That sort of thing." Atyr bit his lip and made an apologetic face. "I don't think I'm following the stuff with apples and lenses."

"Of course, Mr. Bracken. This is, after all, my obligation to you, and I would be a poor partner in this agreement if I did not ensure that my service was satisfactory.

"At a very basic level, your Class is as I have described it: a brief description of the sort of person you are, in the broadest sense. As, and if, you proceed along your path with your Class, you may gain in skill and ability related to that Class. By way of an example, imagine the Class of Smith. A Smith might gain understandings of metals, dexterity with a hammer, an intuition for the heat of a flame, even an uncanny ability to produce forged metal which is stronger and more flexible than it seems it should be, or better able to hold an edge."

Atyr nodded. This made a bit more sense. Helliot continued. "Progressing through your Class will require you to practice and engage in tasks, especially those related to your Class. Successfully doing so will provide you with something called "Experience." You may encounter Experience in a variety of manners, but it--"

"That's the grey, ghostly stuff that rushes into my chest?"

Helliot smiled at him, and nodded slowly. "Well done, Mr Bracken. Indeed, it is as you say. For a mortal with a lens into the immortal world such as you have, Experience might well be represented as a sort of vague, ghostly echo of the relevant event. As you gain experience, you will gain in what are called 'Levels.'" The dark figure glance inquiring at Atyr. "I should imagine you have noticed the 'Level' affixed to your class?"

"Yes. Yes, they're both a level 0 right now."

"Both? Ah, well my congratulations."

"Right, Pesky mentioned that it was really unusual to have two?"

"Well, Mr. Bracken, I hesitate to disperse any fanciful dreams you may have of superlative ability, but 'unusual' is perhaps too strong of a term. Most individuals will acquire a subclass or two at some point. Some individuals' classes will even shift over time. As young as you are, it is more likely to have only a single class, but having a subclass is still a fairly common occurrence."

"Oh. Alright."

"Now, as you gain experience, you will begin to gain Levels. With each Level, your Attributes will increase, and you will begin to acquire Class-relevant Abilities. A Hunter, for example, might acquire the Ability to always find the heart of their prey with an arrow. Does this all make sense?"

"I think so... except, what are 'Attributes'?"

"My dear Mr. Bracken, Pesky really has told you nothing! If you would look at the symbols on your arm again..." Atyr did so. Even in the dark, the intricate line-work sharpened in his mind's eye, the meaning coming effortlessly. "You see the central symbols? I cannot read your mark of course, only you can, but I imagine your Class and Subclass are prominent, yes?"

"Yes, it says Ranger and Rogue, both Level 0."

"Mr. Bracken. As your partner in this arrangement I feel it is my duty to inform you that sharing such information is both risky and unnecessary. While something as basic as a Class often may be inferred through observation of an individual, more detailed information from your mark is generally considered extremely confidential."

Atyr was surprised. "Oh."

"Look deeper, Mr. Bracken. Use a stronger lens if you will permit my return to the metaphor of the apple. Do you see any smaller symbols?"

Atyr focused on the winding runes around the edges. They swam, not so much into focus, but into understanding, as his mind grasped the information within them, while not recognizing the characters themselves:

Strength - 12

Vitality - 10

Dexterity - 14

Perception - 11

Intellect - 13

Courage - 10

Charm - 8

Fate - 7

"Wow. Ok. Yes, I see a whole bunch of stuff I didn't notice before."

"It is a lens which you are granted, Mr. Bracken. You do not taste and feel and smell the apple as we do, you..." He sighed, thinking for a moment. "Imagine I were to take this apple and inscribe on its skin a brief description of its flavor, its scent, its texture: 'Sweet, crisp', that sort of thing. That description is what you are now reading. You, being you, will necessarily have an intimate understanding of what it is that you now read on your arm, so it should be of no surprise to you to read the values there listed."

"Mr. Helliot? I don't understand what any of this means."

"I will assume, Mr. Bracken, that for the purposes of our agreement, you intend that as a question. So shall I treat it. Let me begin by saying that here we reach a limit to my knowledge. I believe that all the values you see are, for reasons which have never become clear to me, calibrated such that an unexceptional human may be expected to have a value of Ten in each attribute. For a human such as yourself, an attribute higher than Ten is thus to be considered a strength, and lower than Ten a weakness. The values may, as I understand it, extend as low as 1. I am not certain to what heights they may reach."

Here Helliot paused, meeting Atyr's gaze to ensure the young man was following. He continued. "You should see before you the Eight Attributes.

"Strength, which should be well explained by its name. Vitality, a measure of your ability to withstand physical hardship. Dexterity, a measure of your speed, your agility, your physical prowess. Perception, a measure of your awareness: the degree to which the world is laid bare to your senses, to your intuitions. Intellect, your power to analyze, consider, contemplate, and plan. Courage is another attribute which should be well explained by its name. Charm, a measure of your social fluency, your ability to influence those around you, your grace. Do you follow, Mr. Bracken?"

Atyr was not sure that he did, but he nodded nonetheless. It made a certain sense, though the point of it all was still a mystery to him.

Helliot continued. "And finally, Fate. Fate, Mr. Bracken, is a measure of your... Fate. I apologize that I have no better answer for you than that." He paused in thought, almost invisible now amongst the growing dark, except for a flickering light in his eyes, and the glow of the red velvet.

"If you imagine that mortals such as yourself are limited to a perception of the surfaces of the world, as we discussed in the metaphor of the apple, and you further consider that immortals such as myself are invested with an understanding of the deeper, truer reality of the world, the inside world, if you will, you may intuit the following. Mortals perceive the appearance of the world; what it looks to be. Immortals know the what of the world, how it is.

"Please believe me Mr. Bracken, that the what of the world is, and will always be, at some level inscrutable to mortals. Lens or no, you yet see only the surface of things, and cannot understand the interior. If you will forgive the harshness of the term, you have an ignorance of reality to you Mr. Bracken. I assure you, no insult is intended, I aim only to explain. You, being mortal, are ignorant of the deeper workings of the world.

"Now, Mr. Bracken, imagine a level of understanding beyond even the deeper understanding of the immortals. Not the surface experience of mortals, not the inner truth granted to immortals, but an understanding of why. Of that, I and every other immortal, are completely ignorant. We understand what in a way you never will (again, with my sincerest apologies for my bluntness) but even we cannot begin to comprehend the why of it all.

"And that, my dear Mr. Bracken, is in some way related to the final attribute of Fate. It has something to do with Why. Asking of me an explanation beyond that, would be as it would have been to ask of you an explanation of Class before you made your agreement with Pesky. I am, though it pains me to admit it, utterly ignorant."

Atyr was quiet for a long while. Helliot was likewise silent, watching him closely.

Atyr Spoke. "Alright. I think I'm following. Can you tell me if this is right?" He looked at the eyes shining before him in the dark. Helliot nodded.

"So. Class is sort of a description of me, the sort of person I am. Level is... how good I am at that general thing? And then, I get Experience from doing stuff that is related to my Class, and that increases my Level, or my skill. And that... that increases my Attributes, which are just measures of how good I am at... at stuff, and it also gives me Abilities related to my skill in those areas?"

"Mr. Bracken. Mr. Bracken. I really must congratulate you once more on your ability to absorb and adapt to what I am certain must be a disorientingly swift torrent of new information. You have most certainly, if I may utilize the colloquialism, 'nailed it.'"

Atyr nodded slowly. "Right, so here's what I don't get. Isn't that just how the world works without all this? I mean, I have a certain way that I am, my Class, I guess. Isn't that all that it is, the way I am? And experience, isn't that just learning? Practice, training, and all that? And Levels, that just sounds like how good I am at the things I've been learning. Abilities too, everyone gains abilities as they practice their skills and crafts in life... right? Am I missing something? Is this just some weird symbol that describes, you know, how people just normally learn and grow?"

"Of course, Mr. Bracken. Of course that's what it is. Again, as I have said, what you have gained through your partnership with Pesky, is primarily a lens, a lens which allows you to better see the apple that is your life, as it were."

"Ok, but then... really nothing has changed, you're saying?" Atyr chewed his lip, thinking. '"But, but something has changed. I should have died from sour blood, but I woke up feeling as healthy as I ever have. There was a wolf that attacked me just yesterday, and wounded me so deep I would have thought I would be dead, or at least crippled for the rest of my life, but again, I woke up healed, as though nothing had happened." He remembered the faint scarring on his wrist and leg. "Almost."

Helliot smiled. "Mr. Bracken. I understand you have some skill with wood?"

Atyr frowned, but nodded. Yes, he had some skill with wood.

"Precisely so. Imagine that you, a skilled woodshaper, and a second person, one who has never so much as whittled a stick into a point, are both presented with a piece of timber. Which of you will better understand how to utilize such a piece of wood?"

"Well, if they really have never worked wood at all, I guess I would assume that I would have a much better idea of what I could do with it than they would."

"Exactly so, Mr. Bracken, exactly so. It is your understanding of how wood works that affords you such a privileged position from which to analyze the wood. Knowing a thing enables you to manipulate it. With your new lens, you now may understand the world around you somewhat more fully. As such, you perform in it more efficiently. You are still, and will always be, Mr. Bracken, a mortal, that cannot be altered. You are now, however, a mortal with a touch of immortalness to you.

Atyr wasn't sure that clarified much, but Helliot carried on. "Likewise with your Attributes and Abilities; having a more precise understanding of them lends you a great boon. You will find that you are now able to progress to heights that other mortals find unachievable. Note, Mr. Bracken, that though young, you are experienced in the ways of travel and woodcraft, skilled already beyond what may be typical of most humans.

"And yet, your Level is set at 0. This does not mean you are a novice at being a Ranger, it means that you are now privy to a realm of skills which are inaccessible to most mortals. You will find, as you progress, that the abilities which you acquire are often ones which would have seemed improbable, even impossible to you before you sealed your compact with the sprite."

Yet again, Atyr found himself nodding, despite still being unsure what it was Helliot was talking about.

"I guess I have another question."

"Please Mr Bracken, share it. I am yours to command."

"Well, I've heard that meeting with the Fae as I have--"

"We are not all Fae, Mr. Bracken. I do hate to interrupt, but it is a matter of some frustration to many immortals."

"Right. Sorry. So, anyway meeting with immortals, I guess, that people get these abilities because they are being sent on a quest. So, do I have to do a quest for Pesky?"

"That, Mr. Bracken, is a question I cannot answer. Only Pesky can know what it is that Pesky requires of you."

"Right. That makes sense. She kept talking about an adventure, but now she's saying that doesn't matter, and I'm free to do whatever I want."

The tall, dark-clad man nodded and shrugged, spreading his hands.

"Alright." Atyr pushed on. "One last question. Pesky says she cannot lie, but she can deceive. What does that mean? She says things that aren't true, and then claims they aren't lies. I just..."

"Well," said Helliot, looking up at the stars thoughtfully. "That is another question which I must admit I may be unable to answer. As immortals, we know the apple, as I have explained. We do not just see it, we know it. And so, it is a core part of our being that we understand the world. It is not so much that we truly cannot lie, that is to say, there is no thing which forces us to tell the truth, it is that it would be unthinkable to us to do so. Deceive, yes. Trick, for some of us. Misrepresent, certainly. In Pesky's case, I would imagine she has no trouble spewing falsehoods for the sake of a humorous moment.

"But to boldly say, 'This is so' when we know it to be not so? That is an abandonment of what it is that we are. It is not that we are prevented from telling a lie, it is that we would not wish to do so." He looked questioningly at Atyr. "Do you find that answer fulfilling?"

Atyr looked around the grove. "Honestly, no, not really. But I also kind of get the sense it's not something I'm really going to understand."

Helliot smiled understandingly. "And, have you any other queries to which I might respond? Or do you find yourself satisfied?"

Atyr thought for a long moment. "I think I'm good. So, what is it you need from me?"

"Mr. Bracken, you don't know for what a time I've longed to hear those words. Allow me to tell you a story."

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Thanks for putting up with Helliot's long-windedness! I can only confess that I got carried away with him, and that I had too much fun writing it to cut it.

-ScryBells