Disrupted Symmetry

One day, at dinnertime, Ossian finds Silhouette sitting by herself at the table. Without asking Ossian takes his sea across the table from her. The food on Ossian's plate is arranged in perfect symmetry, with harmoniously chosen colors.

"The question is; how to break symmetry." Ossian ponders with his fork in hand.

Silhouette touches her napkin to her perfect lips before folding it neatly and setting it aside. Her brow rises infinitesimally, "A more apposite query would be 'Why disrupt symmetry at all?' Doing so introduces chaos into a fixed system and thus disrupts the Natural Order.

"Of course, the chaotic interactions of asymmetry may introduce beneficial results. A dollop of gravy may invigorate the taste buds when combined with a pea pod covered in garlic butter, whereas the individual flavors would have been banal."

She leans slightly forward, her lips curling into genuine amusement. "Why not initially attempt an affine transformation of your meal and observe the results?"

Ossian smiles "Tempting." Then he picks a cherry tomato, thus slightly breaking the symmetry on the plate. A small drop of tomato juice is left in the place of the tomato.

Silhouette studies Ossian's foray in gastronomic disorder with bright, attentive eyes -- as if gaining secret wisdom through fructomancy.

"Frankly, the perfect symmetry bores me. Introduce small assymetries and it all becomes more interesting.

"I'm Ossian, by the way."

Silhouette smiles sweetly, "A pleasure, sir. You may call me Silhouette." She picks up her chopsticks and proceeds to dip a slice of tuna into a green, sharp smelling sauce. "I fear my vocation precludes me from straying from the Laws of Symmetry. Disorder is the anathema of the Machine. However, asymmetry can be properly applied on certain occasions. Such as this, for example." She pops the tuna into her mouth.

"Peep?" A quiet inquisitive chirping comes from the doorway. Peeking around the carved doorframe are 4 sets of curious eyes; three sets of swirling saurian eyes set in the faces of three small dragonets (each about the size of a growing kitten.) The last set sparkles brightly green from tanned face of a plush, blonde and somewhat rumpled young woman.

"I smell it too, Peep. We have to be getting close," she says as she steps into the room. The girl's attire typifies the working clothes of a Ranger of Arden; green leather vest over a natural-spun linen shirt, brown leather trousers tucked into supple fawn boots, a hard-used belt holding a number of pouches, pockets, knife, sword, etc. An excellent long bow & quiver are safely tucked at her back.

While all of her gear is in good working order, the Ranger is a monument to introduced chaos. Her hair is neatly but unevenly cut, obviously with a knife, and has the occasional twig or leaf stuck in it. (Though Ossian will notice that Robin's hair is notably lacking its usual collection of bones, beads & feathers.) A smudge of dirt decorates one temple. And her clothes have obviously been slept in recently.

But with the disorder comes a burbling sense of vibrant life. The scent of pine trees and clear mountain air accompanies the girl and she moves with the relaxed freedom of a wild animal. And when she sets eyes on her cousin, her green eyes light up with fondness and the grin that spreads across her face is pure happiness.

"Ossian!" She chirps in delight. And skims across the room, intent on hugging her artistic cousin, chair, table, plate or no.

Silhouette leans back in her chair, politely curious of the new arrival and her dragonish companions. She sets her chopsticks down again, folding her hands on her lap. Robin's behavior brings a gentle smile to her lips -- as if she's just been told a private joke.

Ossian grins and rises to meet Robin's hug. "Robin! An unexpected arrival, that will in a most unsubtle way illustrate my point in the discussion I and Silhouete here are having."

"Unsubtle, that's me." Robin agrees happily as she hugs Ossian.

Once she has released him -- hopefully not too rumpled or dirty from his encounter -- she casts a worried glance between the two diners. Clean, aesthetic Ossian. His companion: precise, balanced, beautiful. (Deep Green. Was she... ticking?!?) Maaaayyybe this wasn't the best time to hit Ossian with the full Robin fair.

"Oh, don't let me interrupt you. Me and the lizards were just looking for something to eat. If you'll point us toward the kitchen, we'll let you carry on with the civilized conversing." she smiles to her cousin and his guest.

Silhouette's canary-eating smile transforms into a gentle welcome. "Nonsense," she says firmly. "You are not interrupting, Warden Robin. And your company is most welcome. We were simply debating the benefits and flaws of symmetrical and asymmetrical function. So, please, join us? I am certain someone will be about shortly to serve the culinary requirements of you and your associates." She extends her hand -- gesturing toward the opposite chair in a fluid manner.

"And I think we have reached a point of disagreement. " Ossian says as he picks up a small piece of meat that he stretches out towards one of the dragons.

"Thank you." Robin nods to Silhouette and drops into the designated chair with a grateful and boneless flumpf.

She grins to Ossian, "This is Peep, by the way," as the little golden firelizard noses forward out of Robin's arms. She's still sizing Ossian up, but anyone whom Robin hugs and who offers food is worth the sniff test.

She smiles to Silhouette and gestures to the pair of bronzes on her shoulders. "And these are Chirrup and Ooot. Aaaaannnnd this is only our second meal indoors, so I hope you can have some patience with us." She bobs her head as a faint blush comes to her cheeks. Perfectly folded hands? Meet youthful mostly-wild carnivores. Oh, yeah. This could go real well.

Quickly Robin distracts herself. "What point of disagreement?"

Silhouette bows her head to the firelizards and then offers Robin an empathic smile. "Fear not, Warden. After my youth, I care little for the intricacies of dining protocol. Be at ease."

She pauses long enough to enjoy another piece of spiced tuna. "And I do not believe Ossian and I are in disagreement. We simply share a difference of perspective with regards to symmetry. I -- as an artificer -- must embrace the Principles of Symmetry lest I invite Discord into the Machine. All constructs possess Purpose -- and this aspiration may only be achieved if their constituting components are in Harmony. Should I afflict a cog, spring, or gimbal with asymmetry, they will disrupt the construct.s Harmony and thus interfere with Purpose. This I cannot allow."

She dabs her lips with her napkin, "That said, as a Daughter of Draig-Talamh, I also appreciate the beauty of asymmetry -- the exquisiteness of Chaos. Although Earth remains the most 'orderly' of the four elements -- five if you do not prescribe to Hermetic Sorcery -- it forever remains bound by the Laws of Nature. And the natural world -- as you should know -- is ruled by Chaos. Every leaf is unique. Every stone possesses intricate matrices. The Earth Dragon is not bound by Order -- She does not always prescribe to symmetry. The rules only apply until Draig-Talamh decides otherwise. And Her Works are forever beautiful."

Ossian smiles "Then I might have misunderstood. Beauty is more or less the focus of all my activities. Although tastes vary, of course." he says as he patiently waits for Peep to take the piece of meat. "Where did you get those beautiful creatures?" he asks.

"hey took up with me on what-as-once-and-will-probably-be-again, Calusa. I was taking the Dragonriders home after Canareth's death and Jovian's maiming." Robin's eyes cloud with sorrow.

"Place isn't right. Might have been some temporal slippage. But the Riders were happy to be somewhere familiar." She shakes her head sadly. "Our wars don't suit them well at all, Ossian.

"Anyway," she brightens up as Peep reaches out to nibble on her cousin's offering, "while I was keeping out of the local politics, these three clever ones realized that I was an unending source of treats and decided to stick with me." Robin is glowing once as Chirrup eases down her arm, obviously intrigued by the scent of spicy tuna.

"Now I'm starting to wonder if these little beauties weren't Dad's seeds for the Dragons. See," she smiles to Silhouette, "my Father and I also create. But for our projects, asymmetry is necessary to bring uneven forces into harmony. For us, it has less to do with Order and Chaos and more to do with Life, Growth and Movement. And I knnnoowww those aren't dichotomies. But frankly, I find symmetries and dichotomies too... easily over-applied to be good universe-modeling tools and have totally lost track of where I was going with this so you win." She finishes up with a friendly shrug.

Silhouette returns the smile. She plucks a slice of tuna from her plate, dips it, and then offers it to the inquisitive Chirrup. "Come, Little One," she purrs. "Only through experimentation may we discover the world."

Yep, Robin nods. She would have said 'exploration' rather than 'experimentation', but the Ranger figures that she and Silhouette are using the words so similarly there's no point in quibbling.

Chirrup observes the meat -- and chopsticks -- from several different angles, his little bronze nostrils flaring. Eventually, he raises a delicate claw to hold the intriguing tuna steady in those curious twigs. Quick as lightning, his bronze muzzle flashes forward and the tuna jerks out of the chopsticks and disappears whole into Chirrup's tiny maw.

Immediately, Chirrup plants his haunches down on the table and works on chewing his overly large mouthful, a curious faintly-alarmed look on his face, his eyes swirling rapidly.

Keeping her eyes on the dragon, [Silhouette] addresses her companions. "I assure you that you are the victor, Robin. I envy you, as the only dragons I have ever seen were in books. And the mechanical dragons of Babilu that I once helped construct during my youth. The other slave-children were terrified of the iron monsters, but I found them fascinating. Such power. Such grace. Such beautiful rage. The perfect amalgamation of mechanika and spirit-binding. Because of my connection to the Phoenix, the Overseer would send me to clean the slag from their freshly molded exhaust vents. But for many months, I'd never actually laid eyes upon a completed Dragon." A wistful looks passes over her features like a cloud.

"And then one night, I snuck out of the barracks to watch a Dragon being 'born'. Its boiler -- that burning heart -- shone like a minor sun as it consumed an endless stream of coal. Its polished armor -- black and infinite as night sky -- creaked and sighed from its continuous contraction and expansion. As if the construct of clockwork and iron was breathing -- coming to life. And then, much to my amazement, it raised its mighty head and roared -- filling the air with smoke and flame and steam. It did this several times -- like a child's birthing cries. And come morning light, my skin had turned black with soot. So black, no one knew who I was at first. They thought me a forge spirit. Nothing more than a living silhouette. On that night, I ceased to be Kabeiro, Daughter of Flora, and became Silhouette, Daughter of Draig-Talamh. Because for the first time in several years, I'd found beauty once again."

Silhouette's smile is almost childlike as she glances at Ossian, "And you Ossian. Where do you find beauty?"

Robin sits back and enjoys Silhouette's story with an appreciative smile and gleaming eyes. The girl obviously enjoys a well-spun teaching story.

As Robin slouches comfortably, Peep finishes off Ossian's tidbit, licking his fingers with a sandpaper tongue. Overcoming her shyness, she looks up into his eyes and imperiously peeps for more, every bit the glittering and hungry queen.

"Say please, please Peep." Robin chides gently.

The golden firelizard doesn't look at Robin and it's uncertain whether she actually understood the Ranger, but her tail lashes once impatiently. Despite that, she gently rests one warm claw on Ossian's finger and chirp in a more cordial tone, "Peee-ep?"

Ossian is silent for a moment, while absentmindedly offering Peep another piece of meat. "There is a gallery in Castle Amber. In the early morning the light plays among the pillars for about five minutes. It never looks the same, but is always a marvel to watch. Reds and yellows and greens. The dust glimmering.

"The fleetingness is very important. And the possibility that with the eventual destruction of Amber, it will vanish forever."

Ossian goes quiet again.

Silhouette tilts her head as she listens, exposing the line of her throat to the interplay of light within the dining hall. She offers an empathic nod to Ossian, "Light and refraction have always fascinated me. I engineered optical instruments for a time, and developed a fondness for the elegance of stained glass. Perhaps when I return to Amber after my brother's funeral, you might take me to this place of beauty. If you are willing to share it, of course."

She turns her attention on Chirrup and gives a motherly chuckle. "Well, Little One, let us find you a more manageable morsel, shall we?" She selects a smaller piece of tuna with her fingers and holds it out for him.

"Of course I will show you, if given the opportunity." Ossian says with a smile. "Beauty should be shared."

Silhouette's gentle smile speaks volumes, "Then I shall hope that such an opportunity arises."

Just as Ooot's glare at Robin is becoming rather pointed, a door at the back of the room opens quietly. A pleasantly plump woman 'of a certain age' dressed maid's livery bustles into the room carrying a glass pitcher full of water. It's hard to tell who is more startled between the serving woman's surprised slosh or the sudden launching of all three firelizards ceiling-ward.

Robin startles herself and stands, reaching up for the lizards. "It's okay. It's okay, sweetlings. No one's going to harm anyone here." She croons, searching for words that will calm everybody.

As she coaxes her little darlings back down to her shoulders, Robin ducks her head bashfully to the server. "Ummm, could we have some... meat, please? Cooked for me -- just a little bit. Raw for them, diced?" The Ranger obviously isn't sure what's expected of her in this setting.

The server takes a moment to get her bearings but eventually her brown eyes snap into focus. "C-certainly, my Lady. Right away." With growing steadiness, she backs out of the room and disappears, off on culinary errands with today's best gossip in hand.

Her order placed, Robin seats herself once more. Her brow furrows momentarily as her memory catches up with her ears. A look of deep worry starts to pool in Robin's eyes as she turns to Silhouette. "Your brother's funeral?"

Ossian awaits Silhouette's answer.

"My brother, Lucas," Silhouette replies. She picks up her green tea and holds the cup in front of her like a shield. "I did not know he even existed until recently. And upon my arrival in Amber, Lord Martin informed me that he'd been murdered. The details remain unclear and I doubt my mother will be forthcoming. She believes I am a changeling summoned by Lord Huon."

She sips her tea, forest-dark eyes drifting between her companions. "Did either of you know him? I am told he has a family."

While Robin noticeably twitches at Huon's name, her eyes grow a little liquid and she gathers Peep to her chest sadly. A soft, sad croons hums out of the girl as she comforts herself with her little gold anchor. "Ooohh, ooooh. Not Lucas toooo.

"I..." Robin cocks her head to one side as her eyes drift off across the room, "only spoke to Lucas the once. We... our paths were too different. Our word too dissimilar for us to be close. But..." She looks back to Silhouette.

"Lucas was one of those uncommon and special souls amongst us who had the desire, the ability and the time to be a parent to his children. Hope was a little girl, Phillipe an infant boy, the last I saw of them. I don't know about now. But I do know that both of them loved and were not afraid of their father. I think that's possibly the best thing that can be said of any of us.

"Lucas had a wife too... Solace. But she... she's really," Robin wrinkles her nose, "feminine. So I never had any dealings with her."

Robin looks over to Ossian, her more civilized and centrally-tended cousin with raised eyebrows. He probably knows more than she.

Silhouette chuckles faintly at Robin's expression -- understanding exactly what the woman means. Her hand crosses the table and pats Robin's forearm, "Thank you."

Robin smiles and nods to her cousin.

"I knew Lucas..." Ossian says (with an odd stress at the word 'knew') "...as well as anyone, I think. He was quite sophisticated.

"And had a refreshing, scathing humour. On the surface he was sometimes very like your mother. But he didn't like her much, and had his escapades that would upset her. Solace was one of them."

"Then I shall like this Solace, I suspect," Silhouette says. "Other than the overt femininity. I doubt she will appreciate my propensity for being covered in axle-grease and soot," she adds for Robin's benefit.

Robin chuckles, yet shrugs. Solace might be fine with both axle-grease and soot and mud and ash. Robin never gave her the chance.

Ossian nods. "I think she wouldn't. She's under your mother's wings now. Thread carefully."

Silhouette offers a sad smile, nodding in agreement.

She finishes the last of her meal, pushing the plate aside. "It shall be strange meeting them. If Mother even allows such a reunion to occur. It remains undecided if I shall even be allowed to attend the funeral." She shrugs with a frown.

"If the funeral's in Pairs, I won't be attending either," Robin says with a sad frown and a strange darkening to her eyes. "Except by direct command of the King. And I really, really hope he doesn't do that."

The three firelizards turn worried eyes toward the Ranger. Peep peeps concernedly and licks Robin's chin as Chirrup and Ooot curl protective tails around Robin's neck and rest their heads on her blonde hair.

Silhouette stares at Robin for a moment, folding her hands together. "That would be a shame, Robin. Forgive my selfishness, but I had hoped to have a friend there. However, I understand if such cheerless events displease you." Her attention turns to Ossian as he speaks:

"I will go. I do appreciate funerals. As with our previous discussion."

[Silhouette]
"There is a sublime exquisiteness to them, I will admit; although I favor the ekphora to the prothesus. The grandeur and intimacy. The poignancy and splendor. Yes, I believe the ekphora best reflects the transition from mortality into quintessence."

She cocks her head with reptilian interest. "Will you perhaps capture the event in your art, cousin?"

Robin shakes her head a little as the conversation moves past her. Not a matter of friendship, otherwise she'd be happy to bid Lucas adieu. It's a matter of... what? National Security? Anyway, it would just be... BAD for her to be in Paris.

As the girl's eyes continue to darken, she shakes herself again. Nope. Stay in the real world. Robin is searching desperately for something to distract her when Silhouette brings a wonderful new toy to the table. Ekphora? Prothesus? What are those?

Like a hawk pouncing, her eyes sharpen back into green and she cocks her head as she tries to wiggle out the nature of the words from the context of Silhouette and Ossian's conversation.

Ossian grins towards Robin, and then looks back at Silhouette "If your machinery is as intricate as your language, cousin, I very much look forward to see it.

"But no, I won't try to capture the funerals. Their main point is transition."

"Indeed," Silhouette replies, nodding her head. She is an attentive creature -- Robin's fluctuating expressions not going unnoticed. Their eyes touch again; the forest brown offering a shady refuge from the glare of unpleasant thoughts, if needed. The delicate smile brightens once more as she senses her cousin's inquisitiveness.

Robin blushes a bit as her eyes glance off of Silhouette's. Yep, she knows she's kind of a concern. But she'll keep it under control and she returns her cousin's smile.

"The Prothesus is my homeland's rite for preparing the dead; a wake, I believe it is called here. It is when the deceased is prepared for their journey..." [Silhouette] nods to Ossian, using his words. "Their transition. It is a lengthy and complex affair that I shall not bore you with.

"The ekphora is the procession to the burial mound; the deceased carried upon the shoulders of the mekrophoroi -- the corpse-bearers. Musicians lead the ekphora, as their music is believed to draw the spirit into the Underworld. No other sounds are permitted, lest they distract the spirit from its path. So, the family expresses their lamentation through pantomime."

There's a nod of gratitude from Robin as she stashes the new words away in the jackdaw's nest of her mind.

[Silhouette] sighs inwardly -- a shadow darkening her features. But the smile soon returns and falls upon Ossian. She has not forgotten his words. "I intend to begin work on a new project. A test, if you will, of the effect of this shadow's paradigms on my mechanika. I hope to make it a gift to our King, should it function properly. You are free to observe if you wish." A blush colors her cheeks. "I doubt it will be as stimulating as your artistry, however."

Robin leans back in her chair a little surprised. Her gaze darts over to Ossian. "Be interesting." Robin nods to him, though she suspects that the image of Silhouette focused on creation will be much more interesting to Ossian than any mechanika.

"'Specially since this isn't a shadow." She smiles back to Silhouette.

[Ossian]
"I'd love to observe. My time is alas very limited. At least during daylight. Where will you build it?"

"It is a small item," Silhouette admits. "A mechanika unicorn for his desk. I had planned to put the pieces together in my room, but I can just as easily bring the parts and tools down here." She glances over at Robin, "You may observe as well, if you wish."

"Thanks, but," Robin shakes her head, "I'm an out-runner. I only drift in for Family Events or the occasional report. Otherwise, I'm on Near-Shadow patrol. And since we got a bad situation shaping up in Arden, I'm hoping the King will release me back to my duties soon."

Silhouette's eyebrow lifts -- a sly smile curling her lips. "A situation? We must speak of this later. Once my contract with Lord Huon is at an end, I intend to offer my services to King Random. And the more aware of his needs I am, the better I might serve him. But that is for another time, yes?"

Robin nods. Another time, yes. Especially if her cousin in 'under contract' to 'Lord Huon.'

[Silhouette] touches her index fingers together, "Now, cousin, would you kindly expound upon your statement regarding Xanadu not being a Shadow? Is it not a Reflection of Amber?"

Green eyes blink in surprise at Silhouette. That's an interesting hole in the academician's knowledge. But Robin does her best to answer the question regardless.

"No. No, it's not. Xanadu is a... True Reality. Like Paris. Or like Amber was. It's still at least partially nascent, but it's firming quickly. Already, it's re-ordered the dynamic of the universe and is creating its own Shadows."

"You are here, but don't know?" Ossian says, surprised. "How did you end up here anyway?"

Like Amber was?

Silhouette frowns, "Mother keep me ignorant of this things due to my youth. And since my death, Lord Huon has been my only mentor in such matters. He is a cagey fellow and only provides me with what snippets he deems fit. King Random informed me that he possessed a Pattern, but I thought it resembled the one found in Rebma. Or the Ghost City. An echo of the True Pattern of Amber. I had no idea that it resonates through Shadow."

She considers Ossian's question for a moment, "I originally arrived in Amber via ocean travel. From there, Prince Caine and King Random transported me here through the use of a... Trump? Yes. I believe that is what it is called. A most remarkable method of transportation."

A wrinkle of Robin's nose indicates what she thinks of the Trumps.

Then a certain phrase penetrates her mind. "Wait!" she exclaims, sitting forward suddenly, her self a quiver. "You've died too?!?"

Silhouette nods -- unfazed by Robin's animated state. "I died -- No. Not died. I was murdered." The last word drips from her tongue like bile. "It is the reason my mother doubts my lineage."

She cocks her head, her manner far more subdued. "Have you been blessed by the Phoenix as well, cousin?"

"D-dunno." Shit! Not now, not in front of Silhouette. Razor-blade child of tortured past. Robin swallows hard and fights her words into speakable shapes.

"No em-pirical evidence. Maybe just vision. But felt... feels real."

Silhouette nods empathically, but she does not intrude further into Robin's past.

Ossian has stayed quiet, but turns to Silhouette. "Hey. Easy now. You was murdered? How? By whom?"

"Not long after my eleventh birth year, I became a casualty of war," Silhouette says, as easily as one might discuss their transformation into puberty. "My family and I were captured by soldiers. And once they'd inflicted their cruelties upon us, we were put to the torch.

"However, the Phoenix chose that I be renewed." Her fingers clasp together, tightening into a white ball. A pause. Her glassy eyes blink, reflecting the oil lamp's ginger glow. "Perhaps, if we become more intimate, I shall relay more to you, Ossian. But for now, I would refrain from further discussion of this dark time."

Oo, ouch! Robin winces in sympathy. That.s a nasty one. Really nasty... Robin's sympathy mingles with concern over what something like that makes a person into. And she winces again.

Ossian nods "I didn't mean to pry. But the stories here are hard to resist.

"So Huon took you in?"

"Of course, such questions are understandable. And no, after my death, I simply... survived," Silhouette replies, the word echoing with unspoken profundities. Her fingers unclench as she slowly relaxes.

"I did not encounter Lord Huon until last year. He sought an artificer for his war-effort and discovered me in Shadow. Prince Garrett suspects -- and I concur -- that my Pattern-resonance -- weak as it may be -- likely attracted him, as water might seek the lowest point. He has been my principal client since that time. A mutually beneficial relationship, to be certain."

"Up until now, maybe." Robin says with a flat line to her mouth. "Huon's not exactly in good odor around here. You said you were 'under contract' to him. Would you kindly expound on what that implies, cousin?" The girl smiles at the word play. Unfortunately, the thought of Huon brings perhaps a little too much teeth into Robin's smile for it to be totally friendly. Though people of Silhouette and Ossian's sensitivity may be able to tell that the teeth are for the Uncle, not the cousin.

"I am here to negotiate Lord Huon's surrender to King Random," Silhouette replies simply. If she notices Robin's crocodile smile, she doesn't let on. Considering her current 'beneficator,' she's likely witnessed such smiles on a frequent basis.

"Good answer." Ossian says with a milder smile. "Watch out, though. I don't think all of our relatives are as forgiving as Random. I hope you succeed. There are things I'd like to discuss with Huon."

"He is an intriguing and driven fellow," Silhouette replies. "I am certain I could arrange for a meeting between you both. Although, I do believe his lack of aesthetical wisdom might disappoint you. His wisdom lays elsewhere and he would serve King Random well as a vassal.

"Any assistance in accomplishing this goal would be appreciated," Silhouette says with a pleased nod. "I believe there are several cousins planning to place Huon's head on a pike. This would be detrimental to the Family's interests.

"At least, thus far, I have not been mistreated due to my association with his lordship. Regrettably, the negotiations are delayed until after the funerals. Although, the postponement does allow me to engage with delightful persons such as yourselves. I believe I shall enjoy my time in Xanadu, once this ugly business is resolved."

Robin pouts, crosses her arms and mutters to herself, "I don't want his head on a pike -- just an ear. Right or left. I'm not picky. He could still talk." She knows she's not being very gracious in polite company, but still....

"Weeelll," she allows to Silhouette, "the sooner you can be shut of your relationship with his lordship, the more delightful company I can be. But knowing you are his agent," she shakes her head, "there's a lot of things concerning your heritage that I can't say right now. After all, Huon attacked a Pattern. Detrimental to the Family's interests doesn't even begin to cover it."

"I fear his greatest weakness is his paranoia with regards to Prince Bleys," Silhouettes admits, lacing her fingers. She lowers her gaze, humble, almost rueful. "I do not know the full tale, but Lord Huon's preemptive strike resulted from an ancient blood-feud. I do not condone his actions, but I can understand them. Just as I can understand the vulgar actions taken by Princes Bleys and Corwin against their brother King Eric. Was their failed coup d'état any less detrimental to our family? And yet they are beloved once more, are they not?"

Robin keeps her pout and her arms crossed. She is certainly not the one to talk to about her beloved Uncles Bleys and Corwin.

Ossian nods. "No attacks on the Pattern though. Brand attacked the Pattern. He's not forgiven, as far as I can tell. Although people previously attached to him seem to go free at the moment. Such as me."

Silhouette quirks a brow, "Truly? Do the sins of the father weigh upon the son? Or were you complicitous in his actions?"

"No, Ossian was not." Robin's very adamant about that. Her green eyes turn toward her artistic cousin, glowing with fondness.

Ossian smiles back.

She turns back to Silhouette to explain:

"See, the weighing of sins depends on who has the scale. Many, if not most of us are well-capable of separating the sins of the father from the sins of the son. I bear no ill will toward Jerod or Brennan or Paige or Merlin because of their parents." She shrugs, "I'm perfectly capable of getting spontaneously pissy on my own. Without any historical justification.

"However," she grins at Ossian again, "I suspect that kind of separation is easier for the children and pupils of black sheep than it is for the children of Heroes. Aaaannnnndd, for the black sheep children, it's hard to believe that others can keep up the separation too."

Ossian shrugs. "I did not help him. No, but I did take his lessons. And appreciated them. He wasn't my father, by the way. And Robin's words go for me too."

"As I appreciate Lord Huon and even loved him a little," Silhouette says. "I only wish I could have calmed the storm in his heart. But, as long as I can keep him from the gallows, then our paths may part without ghosts left between us."

She chuckles mirthlessly, "If my mother has her way, however, then I shall forever remain the black sheep." She raises her glass; another hollow laugh. "To the black sheep. May our sins be our own."

Having no glass of her own, Robin nods firmly. Then shoots a guilty look toward Ooot.

"Uh, cousins? As enjoyable as this conversation is, I think someone's about to try eating the table. I better head for the kitchen and commit my own sins there." She says with a grin as she rises.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Silhouette. If I'm still here for Lucas' funeral, we should talk further. And Ossian?"

She pounces on him for another hug. "It's wonderful to see you. Carry on with your flirting and I look forward to our paths crossing again."

Ossian laughs. "They will."

Silhouette bows her head, "I would like that very much, Robin. May Draig Talamh forever bless you and yours."

When Robin departs, Silhouette turns her silken smile on Ossian. "So, yes. Please do continue your flirting." She folds her hands, waiting expectantly -- a warm laugh behind her eyes.

Ossian smiles. "Flirting is not an artform I master. Despite excessive training. All these cousins...

"Her.. not the least," he adds with a grin making a small gesture with his head in the direction of the kitchen. "She's nervous indoors. But a good friend."

"I can see why,. Silhouette replies.

"This Draig Talamh? You tickle my curiosity."

Silhouette offers a sly smirk, "Only that?"

She pours herself some tea, still chuckling quietly. "Draig Talamh -- the Earth Dragon -- is my Goddess, for lack of a better term. She is the personification of the Grand Design. A symbol, if you will, of my faith. Perhaps, this is a remnant of my superstitious past. But I find it easier to focus my mind when she is near."

She tilts her head, almost bashful. "Is that foolish?"

Ossian shakes his head. "No. Focus is important. Whatever helps. I'm more worried about the Grand Design. That kind of stuff could be frowned upon here. Not by me though. I'm all into that kind of stuff."

Ossian goes quiet for a second. "I'm very curious about it. But I'm impolite now. This should not be an interrogation - I've already asked a lot of questions about you. What do you want to know about me?"

"I would never fault one for curiosity, Ossian," Silhouette says. "And I shall gladly provide Illumination whenever whenever you desire." A gentle smile appears. "But you are correct. I know so little about you. And I feel the lesser for it.

"What lessons did Prince Brand pass on to you, if I may ask? I know even less about him, in truth. Was he an artisan, such as yourself?"

"It seems I did not know him either. He seems to have shown different sides to different people. I saw the good ones.

"But yes, he was an artisan. A really good one. He taught me how to paint. Obviously.

"More important, maybe; he taught me about the value of art."

This strikes a chord with Silhouette; her heading nodding empathically. "Yes. My mentor taught me the value of many things. And yet, he remained a hollow creature. Like an echo of thunder." She shrugs -- a coldness frosting her eyes.

"What do you seek now, Ossian? You yearn for enlightenment, yes? Will you find it here or in Shadow do you think?"

Ossian shakes his head "Maybe not enlightenment. Maybe closure. Finding that Brennan is my father helps in some ways. Makes it worse too, I guess."

She tilts her head, curious, but does not inquire.

"But I think here is a good place. For many reasons. Where else would I find all those delightful cousins?" Ossian says playfully looking into Silhouette's eyes.

"Indeed," Silhouette replies with a welcoming gaze. "It is a comforting place in many ways and I hope the King will allow me to make it my home."

She reaches over and takes his hands, turning them over. Her gaze becomes intense, attentive, as if seeking something in the faint lines on his palms. "Tell me, what do you require closure for?"

"I grew up disconnected. No parents. Only 'Uncle Brand', who showed up irregularly. Still don't know who my mother was.

"And then there is art. I don't think everyone will embrace my views. But I want to be more than a Trump factory. Then of course, maybe if I get too satisfied I'm done as an artist.

"This Grand Design. Could you tell me about it? Does it cover everything?

"All Aspects of Creation fall within the Grand Design, but some more than others," Silhouette says, releasing his hands. "It would be difficult to summarize the Grand Design in a single conversation, but I shall provide you with this story. If you take it into your heart and wish to understand the Precepts, then I shall gladly Illuminate you in my Ways."

She straightens in her chair, her hands dance in the air - as if drawing the words she utters. "In the beginning, the People possessed nothing, for they lacked Reason and Purpose. Their hearts and minds dwelt in Stagnation - trapped in a prison of undying flesh and eternal pain; not even granted the blessed release of Death. In their madness, many fought with each other, tearing at each other with teeth and nails, inflicting further suffering. Despair and Apathy ruled. And yet some yearned for Enlightenment, so they might escape this terrible quagmire. In time, a man and a woman prayed for release, freely offering up their souls to Creation.

"And thus, the Demiurge was spawned from the sacrifice of these two people - a god of both genders, a god of hope. Having witnessed the world's sadness through its parent's eyes, the Demiurge gave Structure to the world, dividing it into Day and Night, Life and Death, Cause and Effect. The Demiurge then provided the People with Reason, so they might understand the Manifestations of this new world. Reason inspired Action and Purpose - the desire to be one with the Demiurge and understand its gifts. The desire to Progress, to Evolve, to escape Stagnation.

"The Demiurge then left Creation, perhaps to rest or fade into nothingness. No one knows. In time, the Demiurge was forgotten and passed into legend and myth. But its marks are all around us still, testing us, urging us ever forward toward divinity. Toward Perfection. This is the underlying principle of the Grand Design."

She smiles softly, "Although you do not know it, you serve the Grand Design. Your ability to see the world and share that vision with others inspires them. You provide them with Purpose. This is a good thing, Ossian. And I thank you for it."

Ossian nods, then furrows his brow "This sounds rather unspecific. How can you know what is the right cause of action according to the Design? Perfection is also problematic. Does it not mean, in a way, finished?"

"Not necessarily. I do not adhere to Aristotle's strict conceptualization of Perfection - that 'perfect' means 'complete'. After all, completeness invites Stagnation. I believe that true perfection can only be attained through Progress. And Progress can only be achieved through the introduction of new characteristics, usually through incompleteness. Perfectio complementii. So, perhaps it might be easier to state that the Grand Design's Purpose is to obtain and inspire Excellence. Does one serve Creation to the best of their abilities? If the answer is 'yes,' then they serve the Grand Design."

She finishes the last of her tea, "As to deciding what Action best serves Grand Design, one must prescribe to the consequentialist viewpoint. What will ultimately serve the greater good? Unfortunately, effectively adhering to this viewpoint is neither easy nor always pleasant. Then again, pragmatism rarely is."

A soft smile curls her lips. "I have been a Preceptor for over twenty years and still debate these concepts. Enlightenment would not be as precious were it not so difficult to acquire."

Ossian grins "I like you. And this Design. I think you can count me in."

Silhouette adverts her eyes bashfully, "Thank you, Ossian. I would be honored to share Enlightenment with you. And I believe you will be an excellent teacher, as well."

Her smile brightens. "I hope you will seek me out soon, as I find your company most pleasing."

"I will" Ossian says.

She rises from her table, bowing her head. "Until then, Ossian. May you Draig Talamh bless you."