Natural 1 (II)

"So that's where your fixation with me came from. Not just from me being literally the only other person your age living in the fortress."

Cyrus stared at her. Hard.

"Okay, so I didn't notice anything weird about your fixation with me." A flat dwarvish blink. "Or that there was any fixation at all, fine," she groaned. "Oh, confusticate and bebother you dwarves! And you didn't just stop at being grumpy and humourless either, you just had to be creepy enough that anything else just got swept under that rug instead of people actually noticing the signs for… well, whatever they were signs of." She finished lamely and she knew it but didn't care at the moment. "Speaking of which… why didn't I show any signs? I mean, you do pretty much glow with a strong 9 on the 1 to 10 weird-o-meter. Why don't I?"

"I can sincerely tell you that I have absolutely no idea whatsoever," Cyrus replied. "Seeing as I've been trying to figure out how to emulate… whatever it is." He paused. "I think it might have been arson."

Stares.

"What." Imoen said.

"The essence of Bhaal in you. It just looks like at some point in your life you somehow or other set it on fire." Cyrus shrugged. "But most healthy souls usually look like they're made of fire and light so…" He trailed off uncertaintly. "There are a few specks of bleak darkness of nothing, but I can barely tell they're there most of the time."

No one seemed to know what to say at everything that had come to light over the past several minutes.

"I thought you both knew…" Cyrus finally told his Father and teacher. "You knew all about me."

"I thought it was because she was happy," Gorion said hoarsely, covering his eyes with a hand. "You saw her free-spirited and happy and you named her Hope because she was everything you thought I wanted you to be since you never felt any emotion at all." The old man forcefully pulled himself together and dropped his hand, looking down at him with eyes ashine but still unable to weep, as he'd been for many years. "Even though I never wanted you to be anything or anyone but you."

"It wasn't just because she was free-spirited and happy," Cyrus said, dropping his head and sighing. "If that was enough I would have just latched onto Hull. Or any other Avowed that was free-spirited and happy." Some bone-deep weariness descended on him from nowhere. Or was it? Oh right, he hadn't slept in over a day and had spent the night standing on top of a stone pillar while holding his father in his arms throughout the night. After fighting for his life and running through a forest fire, also for his life.

A new feeling that Cyrus had never felt from Khelben since he was 9 bloomed in Arunsun's soul. The boy looked up at him only to see the old Archmage glare down at Cyrus as crossly as Elminster had been, earlier. "We really, really need to have a sit down and explore the meaning of that phrase known as 'volunteering information', Little Prince."

Elminster tossed Khelben a thoroughly surprised glance at the term of endearment.

"Like I volunteered information yesterday only to be dismissed?" Cyrus shot back, only for Gorion's inner light to dim just that slightest bit more. He bit back what he would have said next and tried to get the mounting murderous compulsions to simmer down as the onlookers gazed at him or each other looking lost (Gorion), conflicted (Imoen), weary (Khelben) and internally fascinated while outwardly contemplative (Elminster).

That last one irked him. Especially since the look came from behind sparkling smoke rings. "Don't you give me that look!" he snapped at the Sage of Shadowdale. "I'm still cross with you! Everything I said still applies."

"If that is so," the mage replied mildly, "then everything others have said applies as well. Or art thou the only one due such consideration?" Never mind that he had not contributed to that conversation in the least, save for one terribly misinformed attempt at mediation. No doubt that was why he kept his wording impersonal.

Cyrus stared at the man, feeling the urge to hit him in the face this time though he was sure that was just Bhaal talking. Not the least of which because punching a near-demigod in the face from his height was unlikely to work to begin with.

He repressed the urge to mentally sketch out a step-by-step, blow-by-blow plan to bring the man to a more manageable height in preparation of following the urge to its conclusion. Real life would likely lead to the opposite result anyway, so it was all an academic exercise in the end.

Instead, Cyrus just gave his own thoughts voice, as usual when prompted by someone or other. "So let me see if I understand this correctly." He put his thoughts in order then proceeded to glare and gesture at everyone in turn as he spoke. "Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun tells you to your face that he intends to provide us an escort. But then you send Father a letter urging him to leave immediately in spite of that, making absolutely no mention of him. Worse, you make it sound as if the two of us are on our own until we reach the Friendly Arm Inn, if we get there at all. Meanwhile, teacher forgets entirely to use a Sending to notify us of his intent to travel with us… for some reason. Then said teacher ends up delayed a whole day, again for some reason… Then Father decides to follow your advice to the letter in spite of my misgivings and premonitions. Then, because of those two imbeciles that the Wild Mage nutcase teleported into the keep," Elminster mouthed 'wild mage nutcase' but Cyrus would not be interrupted here, "Tethtoril, Thearabho and everyone else with a stake in matters end up adding their weight to your bloody letter. The result of which is the two of us trying and failing miserably to skulk past dear older brother last night and Father dodging irrecoverable death literally by half an incantation syllable." The dwarf glared at the Sage of Shadowdale. "And here you are, the very next morning, traipsing about and approaching travellers on the road. Because gods forbid you come one day earlier, perhaps in sight of the Keep's gate to accompany us as Khelben intended to and now does, having fully expected father to leave as soon as prudently possible rather than without any sort of grace period as you told him to." His words only became colder and more sceptical. "And let's not forget you live two countries away and other little bits and pieces of information, like the Tethyr business and how teacher had to teleport here. How you no doubt had to teleport here yourself. What would a day have cost you? And for that matter, what would waiting a day have cost us?" Hindsight really was a capricious thing, sometimes. "And now, to put the final nail into the coffin of a truly terrible couple of days, I find out that, somehow, all relevant parties completely missed the existence of a second, perfectly viable candidate for that ever elusive prophecy involving 'Gorion's Ward.'"

Three men and a young woman stared with varying degrees of… everything at the only dwarf among four humans.

"Finally, all of that is apparently due to… terrible coincidences and even more terrible skill at sending bloody messages?" Silence. "Did I get everything?"

By now Elminster Aumar was staring down at Cyrus Anwar with mouth slightly ajar and a soul casting the shades of frustrated/surprised/understanding all over the place.

Cyrus only felt irritated at the sight. But was this irritation even his, Cyrus wondered? Or was it just Bhaal's dark amusement projecting into… whatever he lacked that would have allowed him to feel as other did?

Bloody confusing was what it was.

The compulsion to murder/death/kill-everyone-because-I-said-so returned as soon as he noticed it missing.

Dammit.

Sod this, he was going to actually ask Gorion why they didn't just teleport from the start, since the man obviously had the ability to cast spells of the required level. Unfortunately, Cyrus honestly no longer had it in him to care. "Oh, that is it," the dwarf said. "Clearly, the best laid plans of relevant parties have proven supremely suboptimal, more so together than on their own. And no one can even be held responsible because it's ultimately a simple case of us all being complete idiots who critically failed at communication." He rubbed his face and ignored the reactions those words inflicted on all and sundry. "Honestly, the only one who can be said to have approached this whole matter with any degree of sense is Imoen."

"Score!" said young woman threw her arm in the air, only to be treated to incredulous stares from everyone, Cyrus included.

The dwarf surrendered to the impulse to rub both temples due to the compulsion-caused headache he could no longer stave off. "Right." He dropped both hands and took a deep breath. "We are going to walk off this whole disaster of a conversation. Then, when we're all calm and centred, we'll talk it out like adults and hug it out like the good friends and family we are. And then, when we finally get to the Friendly Arm Inn or wherever else, we're going to do whatever we need to stop Bhaal from pushing me into committing patricide and/or random homicide as he's been actively trying to compell me towards since last night." That mess of 'volunteering information' over and done with, Cyrus Anwar turned around and set off down the North Road.

…

"Wait, what-"

"WE'RE GOING!"

They went.