Written Wonderland

Ren felt pleased with the slow cascade of impressions he gleaned from Jaz - first a spark, like a friction shock from metal; then a pleasant heaviness, like meditating underwater. And then the confirmation he'd been looking for: a sense of gratitude and hope, which he took for recognition of his intentions, and he offered a small, brief smile to her before turning his gaze toward his cabin as they approached, hope fluttering pleasantly in his own heart, too.

He grew worried when he sensed a flash of something else within her, but it was too brief to pin down. It made him feel a little guarded, but only enough to just tense slightly. He carried through on unlocking his cabin door, one hand still firmly holding Jaz's while the other managed the key with some clumsiness, but hopefully not enough for Jaz to really notice. He didn't want to pause the information he could glean about her state from their touch, especially not on the tail of whatever that flash in her had been.

His guardedness relaxed as he opened the door, and he found Jaz's thoughts--his thoughts--returning to Monica, to the temple, to the sacred inner chamber. His cabin wasn't nearly so plush, but he was pleased--if a bit astonished--when a parallel came to mind. He felt a renewed sense of awareness of the warm cloak that had draped around his senses, and he felt a small, contented sense of pride. Perhaps also some tingle of fear beneath it--would he really be able to meet the bar he was beginning to set for himself? He resolved that all he could to was try, and to remember to offer himself the same grace that Monica would.

Inside, he offered Jaz's hand one more squeeze before letting go.

"Did Monica get much of a chance to tell you about the goddesses Ti'la pays homage to?" he asked as he stepped over to a stove on the wall opposite the door, beginning to place some of the firewood piled next to it inside. It wasn't terribly cold yet, but he thought Jaz might appreciate some extra warmth, and in any case, he could imagine Monica advising setting on some tea for the occasion.

Touching Ren was like touching the ebb and flow of the ocean. She felt his hope shared freely in her direction, but then came a guarded door. Then tentative openness again.

She was grateful he hadn't dropped her hand, even when he began fumbling with something in his pockets. A little metal key, which slid into a hole in his door. Gods, she would have a difficult time getting used to that. And did she need one on her tent somehow if Ren was concerned about his place?

But maybe that was part of it. She would make easier prey for whatever it was Ren was afraid of.

Then again, as the door to his cabin swung open again, she relaxed herself. Though the floors and the walls were largely unadorned and looked hard to sit or lean against, there was a certain comfort to the space that she hadn't been able to admire when she had been here earlier. The strange warmth she had felt through Ren returned, and she was glad for it, at least until Ren squeezed her hand one more time and let go.

"Did Monica get much of a chance to tell you about the goddesses Ti'la pays homage to?" Ren asked her.

Jaz contemplated that as she massaged her hand for a moment, watching Ren cross the small distance to a metal contraption. As he began putting firewood inside it, she began to understand its purpose. The stove would provide warmth, then. Interesting. Did the humans fear the fire so? She preferred an open flame herself, and few of the djinn's lovemaking rituals began without a fire in the center of their circle of four. Or more, she thought, a half smile curling onto her face at the memory.

It felt safer now--while thoroughly comforted through touch and with her skin blue--to think back on memories like that. She wasn't pining this time, just reminiscing. Jaz took a deep breath.

"No," Jaz said honestly, "although I spent some time studying the altars to each of them," Jaz said. She felt strange standing here while he busied himself away from her. Jaz thought about sitting on a stool again, but it didn't look terribly comfortable. His bed looked reasonably plush, and she took several steps toward it, intending to make herself comfortable, but then she noticed a chest against one nearby wall, situated up against a corner. Deciding she could comfortably sit and lean there, she sat down, holding her own hand in her lap.

"No," Jaz replied, "although I spent some time studying the altars to each of them."

Ren nodded, and was quiet for a moment as he finished loading the stove, while his mind turned over how exactly he wanted to approach this. In the end, he continued to ruminate until he got the fire started and stood, regarding Jaz as he did so. She'd seated herself on his storage trunk--not where he'd expected to find her, admittedly, but he supposed he was glad that she'd made herself comfortable--even if it did complicate the logistics in his mind of what he'd planned, but they'd get to that in due time.

"I went to go pray to the goddess Sankera, when I... retreated, from you and Monica."

He paused there--half contemplating asking Jaz if she knew anything of Sankera already, but largely just getting on with his next step. He collected a small pot that hung from a rack by the stove and set it on top, then moved over to a cabinet. He took a jug of water from the bottom shelf, poured some into the pot, and then returned the jug to its place.

"She is a goddess of the hearth," he finally added as he began to walk over to the table. "Of community, and... trust." He met Jaz's eyes as he sat down at one of the stools, not quite ready to reengage with touch just yet. Talking felt important, and it was a bit difficult to do both with the djinn.

"She would approve," he said a little more tentatively, "Of what you and I are doing here." Does approve, if he wasn't mistaken, but he wasn't quite sure that was the sort of thing that should be said aloud.

After a few moments of her squeezing and letting go of her own hand repeatedly--trying to coax the pigment to stay in her flesh, maybe--Ren said, "I went to go pray to the goddess Sankera, when I... retreated, from you and Monica."

At first hearing the syllables of the goddess' name, Jaz thought she felt a flicker of deep resonance--less familiarity and more an understanding of potency. Jaz started to put some pieces together. Something about the warmth that Ren sent into her through their touch connected with the syllables of the name.

Jaz hadn't fully known what to believe when she had left her village. The elder djinn had certainly visited lands that worshipped other gods, but until Jaz was here listening to this goddess' name spoken... those myths about the other gods hadn't felt real. Especially while their own goddess lived and breathed among them... to an extent.

At being reminded of Ren's retreat, however, Jaz's shoulders loosened and fell. She supposed she was grateful he had a place to retreat and seek comfort. And yet...

Ren had put a kettle onto the metal heat stove and poured water into it.

"She is a goddess of the hearth. Of community, and... trust." Jaz watched as Ren sat down on one of the stools and met her gaze intently. So far away from her, even in this one-room space. She stifled a sigh.

"She would approve," Ren said, "Of what you and I are doing here." Jaz raised an eyebrow at that and smiled a little, unable to control her facial expressions.

But, sobering a little, Jaz nodded, understanding what Ren was trying to say. That, either the goddess herself had offered them a cloak of warmth and comfort earlier, or Ren had recreated it somehow. So, Ren thought something about what they were doing was divine?

Wasn't it, though? Wasn't that the whole point of the sorala?

Leaning forward onto her elbows, a little velvet in her voice, Jaz asked softly, "And what is it that you think we're doing here?"

Ren watched with interest as Jaz cycled through expressions--first a raised eyebrow with a bit of smile, and then a more sober, understanding nod. Then, she leaned forward on her elbows, and asked,

"And what is it that you think we're doing here?"

Ren stifled the urge to roll his eyes, though he did let a small amused smile show through. Wasn't it obvious?

"Building trust," he replied, his own eyebrow raising.

He wasn't sure where he wanted to go next, though, exactly. He wanted to talk, and have tea. At some point, he anticipated offering more touch before they parted, but he wasn't sure exactly what path to that would feel right. First, he had to see how conversation went. He mulled over conversations he'd had with Monica to search for inspiration, trying to find some secret answer to just how she had managed to weave a connection with him. Oh, she wouldn't say that she had weaved it, though. Not alone. Still, she had surely offered the first olive branch--and that was what Ren felt he ought to do here. Finally, he found one worth something to offer--he could tell by the guarded tension in his chest that didn't want to offer it.

"I don't intend to issue commands as much as I do," he said carefully, "and I'm trying to watch my wording." His eyes drifted toward the stove as he spoke, perhaps a semblance of guilt or something similar tugging at his brow as he contemplated how to say the rest of this. "If and when I do accidentally issue a command... how would you like me to proceed, once I realize?" He returned his eyes to Jaz by the end, albeit a bit at an angle, his expression bordering on grave.

Ren smiled, happy, amused maybe, and Jaz lit up for a moment. It was one of the most positive expressions she had seen on him yet. So, then, flirting wasn't entirely off the table. Thank gods.

"Building trust," he said, and she swore he emphasized each syllable, repeating himself with a playful condescension as he raised an eyebrow. Jaz worried then that she had stepped in something, especially after the silence lingered heavily between them for a moment. Trust was such an abstract concept, and one that the djinn were quick to give each other. Humans were an entirely different beast, though, and Ren more than most, Jaz suspected. She narrowed her eyes and turned her head playfully. How would they do this?

"I don't intend to issue commands as much as I do," Ren said, testing his words. She pulled her eyebrows up and together at once, not anticipating this change of course at all. "...and I'm trying to watch my wording." He looked to the stove and the flames beginning to lick there. So, then, it was out in the open. He knew, and she knew he knew she could be commanded. Now what?

"If and when I do accidentally issue a command... how would you like me to proceed, once I realize?" He looked back at Jaz then, no more playfulness on his face.

Jaz's chest opened, and a flooding warmth rushed to her cheeks. He was apologizing. Not only that, he was telling her he did not want to use this power over her. And yet more, asking how he should approach a mistake. Given all his suspicion of her over the course of the day, this felt... naked. Vulnerable.

Like she already had been to him. Like she still was, what little magic she had access to be damned.

She realized her lips had parted in surprise, and she closed them, thinking as she looked toward the ground.

"Touch me," she said, watching him now, doubling down on making the power differential between them abundantly clear. As far as she could tell, he wasn't bound by her words. "Or give me an honest answer to a question," she finished, taking the command tone out of her first phrase.

Gods, what a dance this was. She felt as though she were standing on a knife's edge. On Ren's knife's edge. And yet, there was something thrilling about it. If nothing else today had proved it, his question to her indicated he meant her no harm. Surely, they could keep at this.

It was perhaps this reason that her next words hovered on her tongue. "Or take it back," she said breathily, the syllables tender on her lips, looking at him with wide, beseeching eyes, tempted to say exactly the opposite. Quieter still, gaze falling to her feet, she added, "Tell me, 'I release you.' "

Jaz's lips parted, her eyebrows shot up in surprise. There was something deeply satisfying about the response, but he kept his expression stoic, keeping focus on the gravity of what they were actually trying to negotiate at this point. Jaz closed her mouth, reeling her expression in, looking to the ground in thought. Good, she was taking his question seriously.

"Touch me," she said after a moment, a striking assertiveness coming through in her voice as she raised her eyes back to him. The command phrasing landed poignantly, so much so that he almost wondered if whatever magic bound Jaz to commands might in fact work in both directions. He didn't budge, though, and exhaled silently in relief, just the slightest of quivers in his breath.

"Or give me an honest answer to a question," Jaz added, relaxing her tone, and Ren nodded. Vulnerability for vulnerability made a fair bit of sense.

Then, she surprised him by adding one more option, though her voice was breathy, her eyes wide and hesitant. "Or take it back. Tell me, 'I release you'." Her gaze fell to her feet, and Ren couldn't help a slight, puzzled quirk of his brow. She would prefer one of the other options, then? Interesting.

For now, in regards to the command he had issued to bring her inside, he was fairly certain it was a moot point to release her, and he still wasn't ready to re-initiate touch.

"I owe you an honest answer to a question, then," he said gently. "Would you like to ask one now?"

After a heavy moment of pause in which Jaz was tempted to shift or otherwise squirm, Ren said, "I owe you an honest answer to a question, then. Would you like to ask one now?"

His voice was gentle, like an offered hand. Metaphorically, of course. She couldn't help but notice that he was opting out of touch in this moment. Had something gone wrong with how they had touched before? Perhaps it had simply been too potent of an experience for him. It certainly had an effect on her, and she was obviously used to such things.

Or maybe he actually did want to be vulnerable. He did just offer to answer any question.

"Yes," Jaz said, meeting his gaze. "Why do you lock your door? What are you afraid of?"

His answer earlier that morning had dodged her question. He had only said simply so strangers don't wander in unannounced, which seemed less like a thing people actually did and more of a reference to her own behavior.

She felt she deserved to know what she was up against if she was about to be sleeping without such a protection.

"Yes," Jaz said, meeting his gaze. "Why do you lock your door? What are you afraid of?"

Ren's eyes narrowed in a reflexive wince, a slight, vaguely bitter smile spreading on his lips. The thought crossed his mind to chide her that she'd just asked two questions, but that would not be in keeping with the hospitality he was intending to show. So instead he turned over Jaz's questions in his mind, searching for what would feel like a genuinely honest answer to both. Habit would be an honest answer to one, but not the other, and perhaps it was not the most honest answer he could supply. Of course he dreaded going deeper, but that was precisely what he had to do.

"People I ran away from." He finally said, his bitter smile dissipated in favor of a grim frown. He hoped she would not demand more about that right now... which led him to recognizing at least one reason why she might be especially interested in his answer here.

"Realistically, there should be no danger here. It's just that old habits die hard."

Ren's eyes narrowed, and his mouth formed a hard line. She almost wanted to chastise him--he was the one who said she could ask a question.

But, he did eventually respond. "People I ran away from." His face fell further, perhaps in memory, and Jaz wished she were touching him if only to share in whatever burden he was carrying. His answer was vague, but she couldn't say it wasn't honest.

Ren added, "Realistically, there should be no danger here. It's just that old habits die hard."

Jaz visibly relaxed, letting out a long, slow breath. That, at least, felt like a full answer. She let go of her own hand and adjusted herself on the chest to find a more comfortable position.

Once she had settled again, she looked pointedly Ren, attempting to make it very clear what she would ask about if he commanded her again.

Jaz then relented and ran her fingers through her long, wavy black hair, pulling some of the many tangles out. Casually, she said, "Well, there's no one looking for me," wondering vaguely if that was still true. That Jarrett person... but it felt unlikely that he would try to seek her out here. "...yet," she finally added as a qualifying statement. Who knew what would happen if they discovered who she worshipped? She knew that she didn't owe Ren any kind of elaboration, but she found that she wanted to. She didn't want this conversation to end.

"It used to be that almost all the djinn would come back from their soralas. They would travel to distant realms and return with stories and gifts for everyone. It's been a tradition for as long as our people have told stories," Jaz said, still untangling her hair.

"But, a few hundred years ago, long before I was born, travel between the realms became unpredictable. Fewer and fewer of us returned, many with scars and..." Jaz shivered. "But leaving is so engrained in our being now... it's impossible to stay." Jaz stopped fiddling with her hair now, staring into the black curtain of it to one side of Ren, only a sliver of her face visible.

"My partners couldn't even... they couldn't..." Jaz felt tears beginning to form as she thought about Suldana, Tigre, and Tenaya and their distant waves of goodbye. But she quickly got control of herself, tossing her hair over her shoulder, though she still couldn't look at Ren directly. "Djinn in their time of sorala feel... wrong... to other djinn, and touch becomes... fraught. Deeply uncomfortable. It was very sudden for me."

She should stop. She knew she should. She was a fountain of information right now, and she had no idea how much of this Ren even wanted to hear. Jaz swallowed the rest of her words, looking up at Ren to gage his response.