The visit to the School of Thought had indeed given Melaran a great deal to mull over, the minor things he'd encountered seeming to fit well within the boundaries of what he'd already experienced elsewhere. It had also served to confirm that there were certain aspects of the situation that he would need to adapt and adapt to if he was to remain sane, alive, and sufficiently connected to emotion that he didn't withdraw into himself.

He ponders the dilemma as they left, listening to Tarna's list of some of the city's attractions a bit absently and deciding for a more quiet and subdued setting for a while. Living things were always among that which the Eldar considered most soothing, and the gardens she mentioned sounded like a delightful place to spend a bit of time. Control, Power, and Emotion, he continued to muse, glimpsing a hint of a road he might follow.

The trees and hedges west of the city seemed to stretch off for miles, and a person could easily get lost in their peaceful tranquility. Fountains, streams, ponds, and pools dotted the landscape as well, with some statues and topiary providing decoration, surrounded by a multitude of colorful flowers. Benches and bridges were also provided for sitting and crossing streams. Someone had clearly put a lot of work and care into this place.

Melaran tucked his helm to the hook at his belt, his thoughtful demeanor softening at the gentler call of nature, a promise of the life that soothes his inner chaos for a while.

"Beautiful," he murmured, walking lightly to a footbridge and pausing midway to rest against the rail and gaze at the rippling, burbling stream beneath it.

Off somewhere in the distance, the haunting sound of flute music could be heard echoing across the verdant grove. Tarna leaned against the railing and stared off into the distance absently.

Simply listening to the echoing strains of music, Melaran smiled quietly. "Even here," he tepped gently, "I'm finding that things aren't necessarily so different from what I've known, if nothing else maybe a bit more honest where it comes down to it. Not so distant, the heart and soul.." he trailed off to silence.

"When things come down to it, that's really what's important..." Tarna replied.

The water rippled past, and the flute music seemed to convey a depth of infinite sorrow and regret.

Tilting his head, Melaran smiled thinly. "Though I can't say that hearing music so reminiscent and remindful of Iyanden is truly restful right now."

A faint bitterness remained yet at the thought, the casting out stinging even though its reasoning had been well within his reach to change... were he to have surrendered something else entirely.

Tarna stared off into the water. "Would they have made me leave?" she wondered.

The music continued on, drawing a bit closer.

"He would have," Melaran replied, the heat of his anger then nothing more than dim coals and a hint of melancholy. "No matter what I said, no matter what you've chosen to be and found in your heart and soul... I don't hate them, not even him, they're too much a part of what I am even now, but I couldn't allow or forgive that."

"Why would he have done that?" Tarna wondered.

"Intolerance, an inability or unwillingness to look beyond preconception?" Melaran replied softly, "Or even a thought that he truly knew what was best for me despite any protestation or evidence to the contrary." He glanced over at her and smiled, "Not all of us, by any means, are willing to look beneath the surface."

Tarna shook her head and sighed. "I don't understand it. And if he'd had a problem with me, he should have taken it up with me, not you."

The flute music continued to come closer.

"The Eldar are..." Melaran shook his head, trying to come up with the words to convey it and instead resorting to a series of mental images that show how isolated and insular they've become as a race with even the various Craftworlds rarely interacting with each other. "To him," he continued, "you were an outsider and nothing more, he either wouldn't or couldn't see that even a word from you can calm and ease the anger he worried about."

Tarna put a hand on Melaran's arm and shook her head sadly.

The flute music, having come up behind them, stopped suddenly and a voice said gently, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was out here."

Melaran rested a lightly armored hand on hers, smiling with faint melancholy, then turns to look over his shoulder at the interruption. Oddly, not the quick and sure readiness to attack he might have brought in days gone by, calmer and more 'normal'. He nodded toward the newcomer in greeting.

"You play with great artistry," Melaran said. "It evoked memories of my former home."

The figure stepped out of the shadows of the foliage and into view. A tall figure, with long, pointy ears sticking out from the flowing pink hair falling around his shoulders. He had opted for a robe at the moment rather than a T-shirt, and it would be somewhat hard for humans to tell at first glance whether he was male or female.

Turning to face the new arrival, Melaran inclined his head in polite greeting despite an innate distaste for the colors typically associated with Slaanesh which he set aside with a firm reminder that Chaos had been cleansed already here.

"I'm Melaran," he said, then indicated his companion. "And this is Tarna. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Tarna looked at him with a faint hint of recognition. The man said, "I'm Sheniro."

"And what brings you to this restful place tonight?" Melaran asked conversationally, and smiled lightly, "Or, considering the melancholy of your muse, did I answer my own question?"

Melaran shifted his sight casually to observe the other's aura merely for practice. Sheniro's aura was mainly pink with shimmering rainbow bands and a touch of yellow - indication of a primary Speaker, secondary Illusionist, with tertiary Motion Magic.

"Much has been troubling me of late, even following the cleansing of the taint of Chaos from this vicinity, that I have as yet been unable to fully put to rest in my mind, in spite of attempts thereof," Sheniro said.

"I'm not unfamiliar with that," Melaran replied with a quiet smile, resting an elbow easily on the railing. "The past has a nasty habit of haunting you at any time, in any place. Really inconvenient like that, but..." He shrugged, then continued thoughtfully, "Those ghosts aren't as important as the glimmer of the future, are they?"

Sheniro approached a few steps, dangling his flute from his fingers and looking at the ground. "But how am I to live with knowing that I am responsible for so much suffering and destruction? Even now that I've managed to get Torn Elkandu cleansed of that taint, it still weighs heavy upon my heart..."

"The alternatives are pretty slim and unrewarding," Melaran replied, chuckling lightly. "Is it better to live with the ghosts and do what you can to make peace with them, or to escape to death? The first option has a lot more potential, even if it means a lot more work than the second."

Sheniro cocked his head and looked at Melaran. "I would prefer to atone for my sins, and I do not seek death, even if I believe you might attempt to grant me such if you realized who and what I truly am..."

Melaran shook his head faintly. "You might be surprised, Sheniro. I've seen too much death and unthinking belief to refuse someone a chance when they're honestly looking for one. Mistakes can be made, but permanent ones can't be undone."

"It surprises me to hear you say that," Sheniro said quietly, "when my counterpart caused so much destruction to your race." He looked to the ground silently.

"You served that Foul One, then?" Melaran asked, the earlier distaste surfacing but seeming somehow odd and he can't quite figure why. He chuckled and shook his head, setting it aside as he continues softly. "You're right, and in another time and place when I was more certain in the inviolable nature of the ways of my people, then I would've tried to kill you. But..."

He looked at the other man thoughtfully for a moment in silence.

"Things do change, just like you're here now and not dancing to that foul creature's tune, and probably just in time for your own safety!" Melaran chuckled, the mirth diminishing as he went on, "No, I won't hold someone's past against them any more than I'd want them to hold mine against me, not when they truly want to be free of it."

"It is a bit more complicated than that, although yes, I did serve that one, until he disgusted me to the point where I realized I am truly nothing like him..." Sheniro sighed, and stared up at the purple sky through the leaves.

"Then it certainly can't be all bad," Melaran replied with a smirk. "If you can get away from and be better than that, then you're definitely ahead of the game. Don't envy you the ghosts you'll have, though, I'll gladly stick to my own."

Sheniro sighed and leaned against a tree on the bank of the stream. "But... it is confusing. In some manner or form, I amsomehow that one..." He shook his head. "I do not fully understand it myself. Temporal divergence... I am what might have been, had things been a little different..."

"If you were truly that One," Melaran replied quietly, "then you wouldn't be questioning yourself now, instead reveling in the savage debauchery and horror that he commands. Put it down as a mental malfunction, if you want, but I think you're laying a bit too much on yourself to accept that kind of blame."

"I revel only in the fact that I have saved many of the people here from the fate that otherwise would have awaited them," Sheniro said quietly. "I do not even fully know who or what I am, or where I belong... I have no family, no parents... No memory of what might have happened before the Planar Wars, if I even existed before then... And now those who were my friends and companions for much of my life have left me..."

"Memory... isn't always all it's cracked up to be," Melaran remarked with a tight grin. "Knowing all that you were and have lost isn't the easiest thing in the world, believe me. It sure would be nice to know exactly what you are, though, but that's something we all have to figure out on our own, no matter what side of the Warp we started on. Been thinking about that a lot myself, lately." He shrugged. "Only real answer is to make yourself what you want to be, go for what's important to you and your soul, and damn the rest of it."

"Well, I'm sure you, at least, did not spontaneously spring into existence from raw Chaos." Sheniro smirked faintly at him.

Melaran chuckled. "No, can't say that I did, but the race as a whole? Who knows or cares really? Pfah, sink too far inward and you start acting like the self-righteous, sanctimonious Eldar who wouldn't stop on a path to talk to the likes of you or me."

"I do not believe I would intend to become such," Sheniro said. "But for now, I believe I must thank you for neither shooting at me nor laughing at me. I will leave you two to whatever it was you were doing now..."

"Go in peace, Sheniro," Melaran said quietly. "May you find your own middle ground and the ease to the soul it offers."

He tilted his head to the strange elf, then turned silently back to gaze at the waters and left Sheniro to his own musing. Studying his own reflection with faint puzzlement, as though not truly recognizing what he saw there, he descended into silence.

A little while after Sheniro faded from view, the flute music started up again. It had a different tone now, however, and while still not really what you might call cheerful, it bore a distinct strain of hope and calm, in itself almost seeming to brighten the garden surroundings.

Melaran tilts his head as the music resumed, listening for a moment, then looked to Tarna. "Maybe, just maybe, if something I said made sense to him then the same things I'm thinking might save my own soul in the long run, eh?" He chuckled and tossed his head in a gesture to pass further along the path. "Walk with me, O Soul's Muse."

Tarna chuckled softly and headed off beside him. "I've never seen him where he wasn't playing or singing music before... and just talking..."

"Can't live on one path alone," Melaran replied with a soft chuckle. "Need to add a little variety or you start to fade away. Interesting conversation, to be sure... goes to show that even an old Eldar can change his reflexes, given the opportunity and freedom to do so."

"I wonder what happened with the other three band members, though..." Tarna murmured pensively. "They left, he said? Where do you suppose they might have gone? They refused to reject Chaos?..."

"Probably," Melaran said, "Surprising that even one of them did really, once Chaos gets hold of you I've never heard of it letting go..." He mused on that for a moment as they walk, then said thoughtfully. "This universe may have an advantage in that, with the understanding and ready acceptance of power that they have. Might even be possible to remove that kind of taint with enough power."

"It is," Tarna said. "The angels can do it. They did it to me, after all..."

"Angels for an angel," Melaran tepped with playful humor, grinning at her as he switched back to verbal speech, "Tell me about them, I've never heard of anything similar to them."

"I believe most of the winged people we saw back in the streets were angels," Tarna replied. "The wings are just an indication of it in their angel form, but they can retract them at will as well. They're basically embodiments of 'good' and are more capable of using healing and protective abilities..."

"What a strange race," Melaran replied, "Though no stranger than any number of others, I'm sure. Just weird to think that there's whole races here dedicated to 'good' rather than merely surviving and doing something right now and then when they can."

"They aren't really a race in the normal sense of the word," Tarna explained. "People aren't born as angels. They, well, they become them, in a similar way that they can become demons, but on the opposite end of the spectrum. It's called 'ascension'."

"Another aspect of 'magic' here, then?" Melaran asked, the subject one that would probably consume a great deal of his thinking for a long time to come. There was so much that the Eldar didn't know, had forgotten, or just didn't make known to the lesser ranks, and the Prankster's 'gift' had thrust him into a world that he was only starting to understand and feel the potential implications of.

"Yeah... It's really a change to the soul rather than the body, but reflects itself upon the body in their natural form. An angel's soul has been shifted to light, while a demon's soul is shifted to darkness."

"So acting in certain ways has greater than usual implications here," Melaran mused, "They are, I assume, some sort of extreme in either direction, brought about by their own deeds and inclinations?" If only his own universe had such dire consequences, imagine what would befall those who strayed!

"Under special circumstances," Tarna replied. "You could be a sinner or a saint, but there won't be any change, even if there's the potential for it, without the magic. Becoming a demon requires being in the tainted energy of the Abyss and channeling while experiencing 'evil' emotion. Becoming an angel requires being in the holy energy of Heaven and channeling while feeling strong 'good' emotion."

"All told," Melaran replied with amusement, "I think I'll try and stick with a path down the middle somewhere. I've had my fill and more of any kind of extremes, and good old Bob didn't exactly do much to endear either of us to them in his little game either."

Tarna chuckled softly. "I would agree with you there. I'm quite happy with no longer being plagued with the taint of Chaos or demonhood upon me..."

"Probably for the best," Melaran replied readily, "Or some crazed Eldar on the street might stop and shoot at you or something." He chuckles softly, then looked aside at her in question. "So, have you seen what you wanted in this land, Tarna? It looks peaceful enough for now, all things considered, and the road yet lays before us to your home. Hopefully that journey may be more rewarding than my own."

"Yes... I believe it's time to leave this place behind for now," Tarna replied. "I'm just happy to see that Azale was just being his usual cynical self, and things really have improved here."

"Some people just aren't happy unless they're leaving cryptic statements behind them," Melaran prodded teasingly, reminding of her own reluctance to visit or speak of the place. "Anyway, I've got my new ultimate storage locker, have learned the basic building blocks that I need, and we incidentally encountered a random former servant of Slaanesh in the woods. All in all, time to move on I think."

Tarna chuckled and headed back toward the road again. "This more has reminded me of how Torn Elkandu was when I first came here... but quieter."

"A pleasant enough place, to be sure," Melaran replied, in no seeming hurry despite his intent to leave. "A damn sight better than your own visits to my own universe were! But then, Bob did say we were on vacation, wouldn't do to ignore the wishes of his high and mightiness."

As they returned to the street, Tarna took them back toward the landing platform at the east side of town by a different street than they used to get there. As they were passing along, they saw a building labeled "Temple of Shazmar", although it looked more like a candy shop than a temple. Melaran enjoys the change of scenery, though his ease still seems strange to him in a way, and only stopped and arched a brow as the 'temple' came into view.

"Oh, don't tell me that people actually worship this universe's equivalent of the Prankster..." he tepped with a shudder. "The Harlequins can't have soul-brothers here, that's just... disturbing."

"Well... a few people do, though nobody in their right mind..." Tarna replied. She noted how most people seem to be avoiding the temple by walking on the far side of the street.

Looking at the temple, Melaran groaned in exasperation with himself. "Oh, I've got to take a look, just to see something about this Shazmar you've mentioned so many times. Crazy?" He grinned at her. "Probably." Then he headed in that direction.

Tarna giggled inexplicably to any onlookers and followed him toward the temple. The temple had a revolving door and inside, there was a gumball machine, a pinball machine, a plastic horsey swinging back and forth, a shelf full of lollipops, and a giant vat of chocolate milk. There didn't appear to be anyone else inside.

Melaran chuckled, walking lightly to examine the various items, circling them with a quirked grin. "I can see what you mean," he tepped with amusement to her. "If this is any indication of his likes, then he and the Prankster must have a lot in common. Reminds me of his odd little room in the Warp."

"Oh, bother," said a small voice appearing behind them on the motorized horse. "I have guests, and I didn't even bake a cake!"

Melaran turned to look, revealing a elf boy looking about seven years old, with blond hair and glowing silver-blue eyes. The arrival and apparent nonsense didn't particularly trouble him after recent events... and he wasn't sure if that lack of surprise should trouble him or not. He recognized the 'boy' from an earlier image Tarna shared with him, and offered a bow with a smile.

"It's alright," Melaran said. "I was just curious and we won't take up your time, Shazmar."

"Oh, you've heard of me in other universes too?" Shazmar said. He hopped off the horsey and offered Melaran a sucker.

"Only through the words of another," Melaran replied evenly, then chuckles as he accepts the sucker and then sighs inwardly at the show of hospitality.

"Please, sit!" Shazmar said, and chairs promptly appeared where there hadn't been any. "I haven't had anyone come in here in some time! I thought people didn't care anymore... It makes me sad..."

He'd let himself in for it, he supposed, but he'd had to see, and now he moved to take a seat at the God's invitation.

"I don't think it's that people don't care, as you definitely seem to be a mirror of a similar God I've known... more that you scare them witless." Melaran chuckled again.

Tarna chuckles softly and took a seat as well.

Shazmar thought for a moment, sticking out his tongue and looking at the ceiling and said, "Hmm, yeah, maybe that too. So! I haven't seen many Eldar around here in quite some time! How are things over in Warhammer 40K?"

It didn't really surprise Melaran that the deceptively small God knew of his home, since the Prankster would likely be much the same if he'd had more time and a less stressful gaggle of followers to keep an eye on.

"The same as always," he replied without real rancor. "The Eldar battle the Empire, the Tyranid, Orks, Necrons, Tau... the list goes on and on, it seems, but at least everyone seems to agree on Chaos."

"My, my. It's a downright unfriendly universe, isn't it?" Shazmar said, tsking a bit. "They need to learn how to have fun and lighten up a bit!" He giggled.

"So I've been told, repeatedly," Melaran replied with a smirk. "Working on it a bit myself, really, probably the reason I decided to come in here despite all calls of sanity."

Shazmar cocked his head at Melaran and looked at him strangely for a moment. "Oh, someone was not very friendly to you there, were they? That wasn't nice. Not nice at all."

Melaran looked at the 'boy' with puzzlement. "What do you mean? It's a rough neighborhood all around, no matter what side of things you're on. Probably best that I ended up coming here, on several levels in the long run."

Shazmar turned oddly serious for a moment. "It is to be expected to be mistreated by your enemies, but it is a foul thing to be likewise mistreated by your own kin."

Melaran winced at that, his expression quieting as he shrugged. "I really can't expect anything less than what happened, not after the events that led up to it and the changes that..." he paused, wary of mentioning the Prankster at all, then went on, "anyway, the changes."

Shazmar giggled again, losing the seriousness rather rapidly. "Oh yes, I know about him, don't think I don't!" He winked at Melaran. "I know all sorts of stuff. But I think one Farseer needs a spanking!"

Unable to resist the humor of the God clearly negating his attempts at avoiding mentioning his counterpart, Melaran chuckled. "Well, you can't blame me for trying, can you? As for the Farseer..." He quieted and raised a hand in a staying gesture, "Please, don't. I can't really blame him, though I was damn near furious enough to kill him at the time. It's... a different and harder world."

Shazmar pouted a bit. "I wasn't gonna do anything bad or anything. And hey, if he listened, I'd've even helped 'em too! Sure look like they need it..."

"Oh, they certainly could use the help, but," Melaran chuckled and shrugged, easing once more. "They don't pay much heed to the Laughing God, and he's been around since the beginning, I doubt that they'd change their tune now."

"Oh, is that a challenge?" Shazmar said, grinning broadly. "I always loved a good challenge! I bet you I could do it! Without cheating, even!"

Melaran grinned, thinking it through for a sec and considering the possibilities. He'd been ready to kill the Farseer, would this be any worse, really? Well, probably yes, but the Farseer would still be around afterwards. Looking over at Tarna, the grin tightened just a bit, remembering, then he turned back to Shazmar.

"Who am I to naysay a God?" Melaran said. "I'll even place a bet with you on it, if you want."

Shazmar practically squealed with delight and rubbed his hands together. "Ooh, I like you." He bounced around happily. "Whatcha wanna bet?" He grinned at Melaran.

"Oh, I have no doubt whatsoever that you can make him miserable, all that unyielding Eldar pride and all," Melaran replied with a light laugh, "But getting him to accept any kind of help from you? That I'll bet against you on, though I have no idea what I'd place as a wager."

"How about a sucker?" Shazmar proposed mildly.

Melaran quirked a brow, grinning. "A sucker... Before I agree to that, realizing full well that your sense of humor is probably a lot like the Prankster's, let's make sure that means what I think it does."

He held up the candy in question. He couldn't be sure, wondering if there might not be another definition of the term in this universe.

Shazmar nodded eagerly, grinning. "Uh-huh! Or maybe a cookie. I like cookies." He smiled at Melaran.

"If you can achieve that miracle, Shazmar," Melaran replied, smiling, the idea perhaps cruel and yet... Iyanden could use the help, should he ignore that when given the opportunity? "Then I will offer whatever sweet treat you might like, and maybe develop a fondness for them myself in proper respect to your tendencies."

Shazmar beamed at him. "Sure thing! You're on."

Melaran might not know the old saying about making a deal with the devil, but he could readily realize the situation when he walked right into it. Damn it anyway, he couldn't just leave it where it was, not when the opportunity reached out and grabbed him with a chance to help the Craftworld and tweak the nose of the Farseer at the same time. He'd do it again, in a heartbeat!

"Then you've got yourself a bet," he said, pushing out of the chair and offering a tilt of his head with a grin. "I'll be sure to keep something on hand, though I seriously doubt you're going to win this one."

Shazmar giggled. "We'll see about that. Have fun kids!" He waved and disappeared in a flash of silver-blue light with a slight tinkling sound.

Melaran looks over at Tarna with a faintly guilty grin and shrugs. "I am a dead man if I ever go back there if he mentions my name," he tepped, no hint of regret in his mind. "But damn, that felt good to do! Even if I had to have been crazy to do it."

Tarna giggled and agreed with him on the sanity question. "Oh, this should be interesting either way... Oh my." She laughed aloud.

"It should indeed," Melaran agreed, grinning broadly as he headed for the door. "Now let's get out of here before anything else happens to prove 'interesting' to him."

Tarna agreed with that wholeheartedly as well, and stepped back onto the streets. As they stepped out of the temple, a few people passing by gave them odd looks that clearly translated as 'What in the Abyss were you crazy people doing in there?' before shuffling on. Melaran couldn't help but laugh at the reaction of passersby to seeing them emerge, the sound probably only serving to strengthen their belief in his insanity and speeding their flight.

"Oh, that's going to haunt me, I know it, but it was fun!" he tepped, still grinning. "In fact, I've a mind to offer a bit of fun in sacrifice... race you back to the ship?"

Tarna giggled and said, "Sure." She proceeded to take a head start, giggling at him and avoiding running into a centaur with a green mohawk and a leather jacket and a tattoo of a rose on its butt.

Melaran grinned and set his helm, letting her have the head start, then leaped nimbly to the nearest rooftop to take the high road. "Slow, slow, slow," he teased while she had to deal with the odd pedestrian and he just leapt from roof to roof.

"Pfft, I'm still not really used to wearing this armor yet either," she replied lightly. Then as he was about to reach the landing platform, she suddenly blinked out of the crowd and appeared in front of him and giggled. "Heh, you win."

Melaran laughed aloud and made for the ship. "One trick beaten by another. I think Shazmar would be pleased. Remind me not to challenge someone who can teleport to a race again, though." He removed his helmet inside and headed for the crew 'compartment' with a chuckle. "And after the long day, I think a nice mountain spring-fed pool, or something like that is in order for a bath before we leave."

"Mmm, now that sounds nice," Tarna agreed, following him in.