Kael and Sin Soma
The caravan slowly travels across the mighty Ahmati. The desert winds are quiet for now, and the crew may converse freely.
In the corner of a covered wagon, in the light of a single oil lamp, Kael obsessively pores over his grimoire taken from the Temple’s sacred archives. His intense concentration is broken by a quiet whistle, and he jerks his attention away from the tome, eyes wide as he scans the wagon. The silhouette of Sin Soma leans back against the opposite wall from Kael, avoiding most of the lamp’s dim light.
“I swear, if you’re here to try to spy on me and my work I will drain the life out of you quicker than you can slink back into the shadows where you came from,” Kael spits out, quickly regaining his usual composure, and keeping his eyes on the intruder. Soma stays put, their vulpine mask concealing their amusement of having caught the sour mage unaware.
“If my intent was to spy, you’d still be nose-deep between the pages of that book, scratching and tearing it apart with your cold, sickly hands for every little morsel of knowledge it might be hiding from you. And I’d be comfortably nestled in my shadows, where your small, tired eyes could never spot me,” they say, a playful shade on their quiet, usually stark voice. Kael pretends to focus his attention back on the book, adjusting his crimson robes in discomfort.
“Then what is it you want with me? I’ve no secrets for you to devour, pry and sup on the thoughts of someone else. Someone who cares for your company,” he says, followed by a short silence. Soma raises their hands to their mask, running their fingers down the cheeks as if caressing them before they slowly unveil their face, with a quiet sigh of relief. They remain in the shadow, staring right at Kael and speaking with no humor left in their tone.
“A secret for you, then. Look at this face of mine, even in the dark you can tell it is not right. Something twists and distorts it, like a spiral, and tomorrow you wouldn’t recognize it. I bear a curse, and it was not hard for me to see that you do as well, priest. I propose a trade of information…”
What faint color had been on Kael’s face is now gone, replaced by an expression of uneasy curiosity as he studies Soma’s uncanny features. He begins to stroke his long mustache, as he often does when pondering.
“You are not ignorant. You know the magic I use does not come from the teachings of the Temple, as I claim. No, I am no true priest or necromancer… Very well, I will indulge you, in exchange for knowledge of curses, of blood and body,” he says, swallowing. “What is it you want in return?”
“You speak like you already know what I am after. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your curse or the magic it trickles into your hands. I want to find a secret… Something nefarious, an atrocious deed hidden for ages, a pact broken and betrayed beyond repair, something powerful! The longer a secret remains hidden and is let stagnate the more potent and viscous it can become, the Temple must have secrets like that. I must have them as well, and you’d have a significantly easier time to access them,” they secure the mask back in place, turning to leave the wagon. And before Kael can summon a reply they’re already gone, just as silently and suddenly as they appeared. Kael attempts to shrug away the encounter and return to his studies, but a foreign thought lingers in his head as he reads. “Think on it carefully. I will contact you again soon.”