Chapter Text
My dearest Ohms,
There is nothing more I would like to do than hold you in my arms. To say we enrapture each other would be an understatement. I hold only you in my heart, and I know you do the same with me.
When we are together, I feel infinity.
With love,
Teiyen
Sighing, Ohms carefully folded the letter back into its envelope. Over one hundred of these types of letters back-and-forth, with over a year to let the sting subside, and yet they all sent a bit of burn through his chest whenever he held them.
A knock at the door interrupted Ohms’ train of thought, and he quickly shoved the letters into a desk drawer. Farad poked his head through the door pensively at first, as though the action might set off some sort of bomb within his grandson. But as soon as he focused on the letters sticking out of the drawer, a scrim of disappointment settled on his face.
“We will be late for Sunday Service.” Farad said. He turned around before brusquely adding, “it has been a year.”
So the latter. In his defense, Ohms thought to himself, he had stopped being unhappy about it all a while ago, like anyone would, but from time-to-time he simply… couldn’t help himself. The letters meant something in the moment, that memory mattered. So he just pretended as though nothing had happened.
“I’ll set for my cloak and staff,” Ohms said, then waited for Farad’s footsteps to descend before taking a last glance at the letters sticking halfheartedly from his desk. Their words may have faded, but the memory remained… but Sunday Service was more important.
As was custom before leaving the Thevenin house, Ohms attached a small bag to a belt around his waist. A bag of Thunder, Farad called it– slices of metal stacked atop each other, sandwiched between thick paste. Though far from spectacular lightning, it nonetheless contained the magic within it for Ohms to command Thunder. Farad, meanwhile, cursed a little as he slipped pounded rubber into his shoes and under his stockings– something to prevent him from discharging chain lightning on all who surrounded him.
“Go on without me,” Farad muttered, “the grounds have worn thin once again.”
Ohms nodded. His hand hit the front door latch, then he retracted it– out of the corner of his sight he noticed the shrine to the Prophet Talavaar. Right, he ought not to forget. Kneeling on the floor in front of the painting, Ohms clapped three times and touched the old sword with the tip cut off (a holy symbol; Ohms never questioned how Farad acquired such an object).
“Heavenly hosts, Fivefold Spirit and all that is, you coalesced to us Humans as a humble beast of burden,” Ohms muttered, “save us now from the time of trial and .” Now finished, he skipped to the door.
The single step to the outside world creaked a little as Ohms stepped onto the gravel below. He did enjoy serotinal, the wispy season between summer and autumn. Until then, Nesaakers all around did as much as they could to enjoy the season before the slow slippage into winter and snow.
“It matters if you work on Thunder runes or practice lightning-casting,” Farad chuckled, the front door slamming behind him, “it is far from natural for a young man of your age to spend all his time inside.”
“I go outside,” Ohms countered.
“Few and far between.” And unfortunately for Ohms, Farad had touched on the moral. Not one to argue, Ohms simply started toward Nesaak proper.
Weaving in-between houses and roads, Farad kept the pace he’d attempted to teach his grandson, something he’d described as ‘stately Almuji.’ Ohms still thought of it as ‘a walk with unknown purpose,’ and he tagged along, running every so often to keep behind his grandfather.
Slowing for a moment, Farad whispered the sort of thing he commented nearly every week: “You see the problem with this Region stares you in the eyes, not one person in Nesaak has a true respect for the military. Just lumber-workers, fishermen, guards, and poets.”
Ohms just nodded, though he wasn’t entirely certain it was true.
“And unless you have made any progress on your staffwork…” Farad scowled a little at Ohms.
A quick sharp jolt squeezed Ohms’ chest. “I’ve–” he could not defend himself. In the past he’d spent his days like his grandfather, volunteering for whatever odd jobs the town needed, or studying Thunder magic from his grandfather. And if he knew Farad was out, he’d sculpt golems, casting life into beady clay eyes. But that was all over a year ago. Rather than dig himself further, he did not speak.
“Shame. A real shame,” Farad responded, biting. “We live in the greatest war this land has seen, gifted with Thunder, and you spend your time reading old letters and re-doing childish elemental exercises. If you so desire to be a scholar, you ought to seek Ragni.”
Ohms shook his head. “I don’t want to be a scholar, I want to serve Nesaak like you.”
“Then reconsider your use of your valuable time on this plane.”
By the time the pair had reached the Bovine shrine in the center of the city, the Service bell had rung once. A few workers and guards surrounded the shrine for prayers and tithes, their families all filing into the pews for Service.
Father Allred, a lively old Tromsi with crinkles around his dark eyes, made it a point to shake the hands of his congregation as they filed in. Ohms and Farad had missed the first line of handshakes, as well as the first call-to-prayer, but they hadn’t missed the beginning of Service. The Reverend was the only one to give a warm acknowledgment to the Thevenins during Service; nearby Nesaakers avoided eye contact with the two of them, or gave Farad tentative and unreturned bows.
“All stand for Service,” Father Allred announced. “Today we will be honoring the Prophet of light and water, Scipia.”
The Reverend processed in, his old cow’s robes barely touching the ground. Ohms couldn’t help thinking that, of all the Prophets to take to mind that day, Scipia was the only one to take up her holy vows after losing her lover. Was it a sign? Could he take up the bovine mantle? No, Ohms decided, he couldn’t imagine a life conducting Service after Service and answering the unanswerable.
As Ohms was apt to do when attempting to avoid something, he played back his memories. Times in church he’d been with his old friends Jasper and Sae-ri, how they’d come to Sunday Service groggy-eyed after a night playing with Ohms’ golems. Or when he was ten, when a Corrupted attack interrupted the Service and it took four guards to subdue the pack.
Or, he realized, heart squeezing a little, he could think about Teiyen, and how she’d always try to whisper to him mid-Service, asking him how much time they had left, or making snarky comments about what Father Allred put forth in Service. Or her smile, how’d she’d keep doing it even when he asked her not to.
Father Allred paused poignantly before assuming his place at the altar, and Farad gently elbowed his grandson in the ribs. Pay attention, it seemed to say. Ohms winced and gave his grandfather a sheepish expression– sorry . Usually he was not so obvious with this reminiscing.
Service progressed as usual, and Ohms attempted to keep his focus on the relatively dry sermon, drifting around sentences he didn’t entirely try to process.
“…and the Fivefold Spirit decided, each, to put their power into a baby bovine, rather than simply appear in a vision,” Allred boomed, voice echoing into corners of the wooden church.
“Immense power that had never been seen before, all to show that each and every one of us can attain spiritual godhood. Over ten generations ago, our forefathers lived in a world without Corruption, and they chose to carry on when the portal opened. Each of us has the power to carry on in adversity, even now…”
Perhaps things had not been so different hundreds of years ago. Ohms had been taught from a young age to respect the grand continuity of life in Wynn, and despite the Corruption Portal, Wynnics were relatively peaceful compared with what little he knew of the times before.
Father Allred paused, and finished clearly: “the spirit of the five blessings go forth with you.” The congregation (sans Farad) responded in kind: “May they walk alongside you.”
Ohms sighed a little. Thank goodness, the second half of the ceremony– the procession of five acolytes to serve tiny pieces of five different types of breads, and the chanting of hymns while Father Allred brought offerings to the small Bovine statue. Farad stayed seated while Ohms received a small blessing and some yeasty fish bread close to the altar, and he chewed contentedly. And once the last notes of the final chant drifted from everybody’s mouth, Farad quickly made his leave.
Post-Service it was customary for one to mingle. A family might spend all morning cooking pastries to serve, and if they were lucky someone might have ordered a small shipment of chocolate and coffee from Troms to make delicious drinks. At least one cook might make the goods last over a week.
Farad never spoke to others if he could avoid it, but Ohms was a little more social. Usually. Today he slunk off to the side to watch the crowd. A couple of extra guards stayed off around the outskirts, ready to fight off any unexpected hoards of corrupted. And a year ago, he would take Teiyen to Service, the two hand-in-hand afterward, smiling gleefully to talk about whatever she had on her mind, and he would simply listen intently.
Two strong hands clasped Ohms on the shoulders. With a brief gasp, Ohms yanked himself free and prepared to shift the thunder from his bag into whatever assailant chose him as a victim.
“Hey! Hey, calm down, Ohms, it’s just me!” A voice unmistakably Jasper’s cried out behind Ohms.
Jasper! How long had it been… Ohms turned around to see his friend wide-eyed, quickly throwing his hands up in surrender. The sight might have been humorous to an uninformed observer; Jasper, a blacksmith’s boy, with forearms that would dissuade nearly anyone from challenging him to a fight, backing down to someone a full head shorter.
“Relax, fella,” Jasper said, “no need to go for…” he trailed off, glancing down at Ohms’ bag with distinct dis-ease.
Guilty, Ohms removed his hand from his bag of thunder. It wasn’t right to resort to something so drastic, let alone in public. He had no idea who it could’ve been…
Prior reservation evaporating, a smile overtook Jasper’s face and he crossed his arms. “Oh, Hells, come on, it’s been a bit, ain’t it?”
“Lysander finally let you out of the smeltery for Service?” Ohms asked as he shifted into a neutral stance, arms in a sheepish position behind his back.
Jasper let his head back and laughed with faint mania. “Fish and flesh... it would take the whole Fivefold Spirit for him to let me out of there.”
“God parts the skies with thundr’us cracks,” Ohms recited, almost a faint chant, “yet soft a voice as she-cow’s bleat.”
Snorting, Jasper rolled his eyes a bit, his outer optimism tiring. “Not anymore, Ohms. They stopped answering our calls ever since that popped up.” He jerked his thumb toward the Nether Plains. “Say, uh… can you help me with something? I left something in the forest…” Jasper asked with a sudden uncharacteristic sheepish expression.
How could anybody leave something in the forest? It was unlikely his friend, though stationed near the outskirts of Nesaak Town, would simply frolic in the woods without a care. Perhaps it was from a sort of tryst, it would explain the faint nervousness from his friend. Not the sort of reason for breaking curfew the guards enjoyed hearing.
“You’d like me to get it for you?” Ohms asked.
“No!” Jasper exclaimed, just a little too loud. “I mean, um, no, we could go together.”
“Well, what’s there to lose?” Ohms asked. Better to explore a different vein of memories than his once love.
“Ehm,” Jasper cleared his throat lightly, “be… quiet about it.”
The two glanced about; nobody seemed to be paying them much heed, except for a spare guard or two ready to dis-arm a Thevenin situation (none had ever happened). Ohms stepped away a bit and pretended to examine his shoes. “I think they think I’m…” he gestured to his bag.
Jasper nodded. “Go first,” he whispered, “I’ll follow you.”
The two slunk away, quietly slipping past the crowd and into town. Ohms could think of much today (“how has your swordsmithing been going?” “I hear your brother got engaged last month, is he enlisting?”), but none of it seemed quite appropriate. Jasper, he suspected, remained silent out of awkwardness.
The two reached the outskirts of town, fields of crops by their sides and a heavily-guarded bridge to the Twain forest in front of them.
“We’d like to pass,” Ohms said, calm and confident.
One of the guards eyed his thunder pouch and glanced at their fellows. A quiet nod resonated about the guards, and Ohms and Jasper stepped quietly onto the bridge out into the wilderness.
Stepping into the outskirts of Nesaak immediately yielded a floor peppered with serotinal flowers. A couple of pre-Portal houses lay demolished, and Ohms wondered if his mother’s family might have lived in such a home. As children Ohms and Sae-ri had run about playing soldiers and Corrupteds, but it simply devolved into throwing showers of leaves at each other. Afterwards Farad scolded them both for going into the outskirts, and while it sullied the idea of ever doing it again, he still treasured the memory.
Ohms smiled, letting the feeling wash over him for a second. With every footstep he could imagine the little boys making the same journey in the tall grass. But of course he couldn’t just enjoy such a thing on his own. “Where did you see your nondescript object last?” Ohms asked, a grain of snark in joy.
“Um…” Jasper froze. “Well… I think there was a cave nearby…?”
Ohms nearly rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose– Nesaak was surrounded by caves, most of which had been converted to military holdouts or peoples’ survival camps. There were even rumors of a whole secret city beneath Lake Nesaak (Ohms didn’t believe such a thing for a second).
“There?” Ohms asked, going for the nearest cave to the side of the path.
“Not there ,” Jasper said, “it was more that way. I think.” He pointed north. “There were some ruins around it.”
Hmm, Ohms rubbed his chin and slowed his pace. Where might his friend have made the mistake of wandering? Really only guards, soldiers, and the two remaining Thevenins were allowed solitary walks through Nesaak forest. Too much of a risk otherwise. But in his experience, if he were to try and roam outside the Nesaak city limits in search of some secluded place, he would probably have tried…
“The old soldier’s dugout?” Ohms asked. People found their way over there all the time. Fortunately Ohms knew the forest well without a map, and pointed the direction they ought to go.
“I suppose we can try…” Jasper didn’t sound convinced. “I said it was a cave, not a dugout,” he grumbled.
Ohms glanced sidelong at his friend, whose plight could have been avoided had he simply stuck to what he knew was allowed. Hmph. He hadn’t pegged Jasper as the type to break curfew for something. Why break the rules? It didn’t really make sense. There was no need to, and it went against the established order of things. No use standing out.
“How’re the golems going?” Jasper asked.
Ohms sighed, a quick squeeze of guilt in his heart. “Well, very well,” he lied. “The scenery is beautiful,” he said, changing the subject.
Jasper laughed. “Of course you’d talk about the weather.”
“Am I predictable?” He asked, not entirely serious, crunching through the occasional leaf patch.
Jasper trailed behind a little, inspecting a moss-smothered rock. “I wouldn’t say predictable–” he paused to catch up “–so much as… laconic. ”
“I suppose.” In Ohms’ experience, friends who asked these sorts of questions were usually trying to avoid speaking about something. He hardly enjoyed someone digging into his personal life, he had an odd feeling his courtship with Teiyen had become public the moment they split.
…Damn it, wasn’t he supposed to be not thinking about her? Fish and flesh, he was never good at avoiding the past, it always came to find him no matter what.
After a few minutes of silence, they arrived at the dugout– a large cave entrance sprinkled with flowers and vines, faint lights from old forever-lanterns emanating from the bowels.
“It could’ve been here,” Ohms suggested.
Perhaps he’d been too mentally hard on Jasper. There was little privacy for the Thevenins or for Teiyen before she left for Nemract, so Ohms often escorted her around Nesaak under the illusion of help. They came up with every excuse: lost items, a trip to a relative, foraging for food… all of those times from Serotinal leaves to spring flowers, a year gone by and now nothing quite to show for it.
A minute of frantic searching behind a boulder the size of roughly two-and-a-half humans produced a triumphant Jasper, clutching at what appeared to be a nondescript, ratty cloth. Triumph, then embarrassment, as he hid the object.
Ohms contemplated lecturing Jasper on the fact that he should never do that again, but ultimately decided against it. Instead he stood for a moment, staring into the distance, and asked—
“Do you ever have something on your mind, and that you can’t quite get it off?”
Jasper’s attitude suddenly went serious. “Usually I try to find something to replace the thing I lost.”
Ohms didn’t want something new, he wanted his old experiences back with no strings attached. “I’m not sure that will work…”
“Is this about a girl?” Jasper asked.
“Maybe it is. Maybe it’s… a bit more.” It was hard to separate her from the beautiful memories of serotinal walks, or the snowy winter nights. “I just don’t know.”
“You’re over her?”
“I suppose.” Ohms certainly didn’t want Teiyen back. Difficult to say why, but he knew he didn’t need her and she didn’t need him. So what was it? He had never been the most philosophical man in Wynn, or even in Nesaak.
Jasper laughed and quickly adopted a more relaxed tone. “Surely there are women lining up to ask you to dances, and afterwards you can–”
“Don’t be crude,” Ohms cut his friend off, a tinge of golden pink to his face, “maybe I’m lonely, but I’d rather not…” he trailed off. “Forget it, forget I mentioned it.”
Jasper shrugged slowly. “Well, uh, we got we… came for. We’ll head back to town?”
Ohms complied, the forest having lost its lustre.