Toward Eternity

by Thomas ``Faux'' Steele

Aurélien Delacroix leaned back on the cracked leather barstool and interlaced their fingers, claw-tips painted an eye-catching sapphire that matched their majestic crest. Tapping a cigarette out of a crumpled packet of Gauloises---also blue---they tucked it into their beak but left it unlit. ``Let's start with a name and go from there, shall we?''

``Gaëlle,'' the Persian leopard replied, golden eyes tracing the gentle curves of the blue jay's amethyst suit. The corner of her muzzle curled into a slight frown as she took a seat, the sharp edges of her dress cascading down her lithe body like shards of glass. A choker set with emerald-cut fire opals like translucent magma adorned her throat. ``Of the Khayyamzadeh Clade. I've heard that you fancy yourself a detective, Monsieur Delacroix.''

``Others describe me that way\ldots but I think of the work I do as the archeology of the soul,'' Aurélien replied, their crest fluttering ever so slightly with a hint of \emph{amour-propre}. Materializing a lighter into their palm, they summoned a jet of flame to ignite their cigarette. ``If you have a sufficiently interesting mystery for me, I'll endeavor to solve it for you. Sound reasonable?''

Gaëlle considered Aurélien for a long moment, her manicured claws slowly extending like crimson sickles. ``I don't do `interesting','' she replied, her voice like distant veldt thunder. ``But I do have a mystery of a sort for you. I need someone found.''

``Is this related to the Century Attack?'' A lazy wisp of smoke rolled out of the blue jay's beak as they slowly exhaled. The ember of their cigarette gave their crushed mica eyeshadow an iridescent glow.

``Unfortunately.'' Gaëlle sighed, her shoulders slumping. ``I expected there to be casualties after they announced that the cause was Contraproprioceptive Virus. I just didn't expect the losses to hit within my clade.'' The leopard fidgeted with her choker, the fire opals shimmering as if agitated by her unease. ``Did you uh\ldots lose---''

``No. I'm technically part of a clade, but''---Aurélien took another puff as they swirled a half-empty glass of Armagnac and watched the amber droplets dance against the crystal---``we all seem to be a bit drunk on the liquor of solitude these days.''

``I don't think we're supposed to be alone,'' the leopard murmured in a low purr. ``Not in the System at least. No heart-balm can truly soothe the ache of involuntary seclusion.''

``Then tell me more about the one that you're hunting for.'' A longing saxophone rose above the steady drone of conversation echoing off the cove ceiling above them. The flame of the blue jay's cigarette danced in the sapphire set in their knot cover as they met Gaëlle's adamantine gaze. ``Anything that might help me identify an up-tree instance.''

``Her name was Céleste,'' Gaëlle began, claws scratching lightly against the weathered mahogany bar of the Sombres Reflets speakeasy. ``A lynx. Reddish fur, eyes like Columbian emeralds, and a grin just a bit off-kilter. She was''---the leopard's voice hitched, her aplomb momentarily wavering---``she was not our clade's root instance, but she was very close, far closer than I.''

``Perhaps a round of drinks is in order.'' A plume of smoke wafted from Aurélien's beak and coiled around the dimmed chandelier overhead. The blue jay tilted their glass back and drained the last of the Armagnac in a single graceful gulp. ``You look like you could use one, and my glass appears to be empty.''

``I suspect that I could,'' Gaëlle replied. ``But don't deign to order for me.''

``But of course. A gentleman never presumes,'' Aurélien clicked their beak in amusement, arching a well-defined eyebrow. ``Bartender!''

The bartender---part of the sim---was a peculiar creature with a body like molten silver and two wings of fractal beauty stretching outward from their back. A perfect mélange of the masculine and the feminine, a celestial effulgence clung to them as though their very essence was woven from strands of sublime light. In the blink of an eye, they stood before the pair, cocktail shaker in their white-gloved hands. ``Your usual, Monsieur Delacroix?'' they asked, voice entrancingly mellifluous.

``Of course,'' the blue jay replied, extinguishing their cigarette in a nearby glass ashtray. Embers deposited amidst the ash briefly flared before fading like moribund stars. It took the bartender only a moment to pour Aurélien a tulip glass of Rémy Martin and add a sphere of flawless ice, clear as fine crystal.

``And for Madame?'' The celestial being tilted their head toward the leopard.

``Scotch.'' Gaëlle clutched her choker tighter, the nubs of teeth-scarred claws striking melodically against the gold like diminutive bells. ``Three fingers, neat, with exactly three ice cubes. Something Lowland, but not Auchentoshan.''

``Lowland,'' the bartender repeated, their tone like windsong. Their wings shimmered before gracefully propelling them upward as they judiciously gazed over the top shelf. The chosen bottle was Glenkinchie 24-year, its label soft and faded like a well-loved plushie. ``A marvelous choice, Madame.''

They descended like a dandelion seed, placing a squat glass in front of the jaguar. Uncorking the bottle with an almost balletic movement, Aurélien immediately caught a potent whiff of spiced fruit and honey as they poured three precisely-measured fingers and added the requisite ice cubes. ``Thank you,'' Gaëlle murmured, lifting the glass and inhaling deeply.

``\emph{À votre santé},'' the bartender replied, before hastening away like a Spirit of Ecstasy bonnet mascot mounted to a Rolls-Royce Wraith GT3. Gaëlle's gaze was briefly lost in the amber depths of her Scotch, leaving Aurélien to briefly wonder if she saw Céleste's eyes staring back.

``\emph{Portons un toast},'' Aurélien murmured, gently nudging the jaguar out of her reverie.

``A toast to who?'' Gaëlle pursed her lips, index claw pensively tracing the rim of her glass.

``To the prodigal sons and daughters,'' Aurélien suggested. The flickering light refracted off the contours of the exquisite Baccarat crystal in their hand, casting a kaleidoscope of color across their azure plumage. ``To those we've lost and are yet to find.''

``And to the memories they've left for us,'' Gaëlle added. Her gaze softened as she brought the amber liquid to her muzzle. After a deep sip, she sighed and placed the glass back on the counter, her gaze dropping to the marbled mahogany. ``Amen.''

``Take as long as you need to gather your thoughts.'' The blue jay turned to peer at the narrow silver of cityscape visible through the nicotine-stained transom window above the speakeasy's entrance. Bitter rain fell in dense sheets, the tires of dour sedans dousing the sidewalk as they sped past. ``We have nothing but time in this sim. I understand that this can be\ldots difficult.''

``Difficult\ldots'' Gaëlle echoed, her index claw tracing abstract patterns on the bar as her gaze remained trapped in the depths of her Scotch. ``You make it sound like I'm trying to solve an algebra problem.''

Aurélien shrugged nonchalantly, tilting their head to meet her downcast gaze. ``How long has it been since Céleste last forked? I've always found mathematics far simpler than any matter of the heart.''

``Six months ago. That instance has probably individuated since then, but\ldots I cling to the hope that there's still a part of her out there somewhere.'' Gaëlle paused, her eyes misty as she took another swig of liquor to steady her trembling paws. A moment later, an ice cube loudly crunched between her incisors. ``I should never have trusted the promise of a place beyond death. It's so easy to leave words unsaid when our gaze is toward eternity.''

``You had no way of knowing,'' Aurélien replied, their voice dipping into a lower register, soothing as a lullaby. ``No one predicted that phys-side would lash out at the System with such violence outside of the darkest sims birthed from conspiratorial delirium.''

``There was this...old playground on the sim where the core of my clade still lives. Céleste loved it there.'' Gaëlle's sinuous tail twitched restlessly against the tarnish-spackled brass footrest. ``I'd join her there at the same time every week and we'd sit on the swings and reminisce until we ran out of shared memories or mimosa, whichever came last.''

``And when she wasn't there last week---''

``---the swings swayed emptily as I drank champagne until I could barely stand.'' Gaëlle's words hung in the air like smoke rings. ``Could I bum a cigarette?''

``Certainly,'' Aurélien replied, pulling out a pair of Gauloises from the now-empty pack resting by the ashtray. He tossed one at Gaëlle, her swift reflexes allowing her to pluck it from mid-air. An amber glow rose from the end as the blue jay sparked a strike-anywhere match against the counter. ``Please, allow me. \emph{Une belle femme n'allume jamais sa propre sèche}.''

Gaëlle responded with a little purr, the corners of her mouth curving into a genuine smile as she leaned toward the tangerine flame. She sealed her lips around the filter and took a long, slow drag, exhaling cloud of smoke that smelled like a rain-soaked Parisian café. ``\emph{Merci}.''

``What about the clade listing?'' Aurélien asked, using the last sputters of the match to ignite their cigarette. ``I assume you've already checked, but it never hurts to ask.''

``The clade listing was useless,'' the leopard replied with a sigh. ``Privacy settings keep the information I need sealed off. I suspect that the new instance isn't far from one my clade's usual haunts, but I don't\ldots'' Gaëlle's voice trailed off as her gaze was drawn to the intensifying pitter-patter of thorny rain against the transom window.

Aurélien followed her gaze, watching the rain come down in sheets. The cityscape beyond became a muddled blur of lights and colors, the storm beclouding even the few pedestrians taking shelter beneath an awning. Sighing, the blue jay took a long drag.

``I blame myself for not spending more time with her, for living through a thousand other experiences apart when she was always just a ping away.'' Gaëlle sighed, her paw closing around the ashtray as if to cradle a fragment of fading warmth. ``I always thought we'd have more time.''

``But we never quite have enough, do we?'' Aurélien said, gesturing for the bartender. ``I've inhabited the System for a hundred years, and yet I still feel as though I've only enjoyed a thousandth of what's out there.''

``There's no comfort in eternity when the cocladist you want to spend it with isn't there,'' Gaëlle snarled, lifting her gaze to meet Aurélien's. The heavy silence between them was broken by the \emph{krinkle-plink} of the ashtray meeting the dark oak floor. ``What is forever without them, God damn it‽''

The blue jay turned the stem of their glass between deft fingers. ``Forever is a desert, \emph{mon chérie},'' Aurélien replied, tipping the full glass of eau-de-vie into their beak like a golden waterfall. The liquor was sweet and woody, a taste of timeless comfort.

``Without her, it's a desert without oases,'' Gaëlle murmured. ``Find what remains of Céleste for me\ldots please?''

``You ask me to search for a grain of sand amidst the dunes,'' Aurélien mused. ``For such a task, I require a sieve to narrow my search. Who might have an idea as to this fork's present whereabouts?''

Gaëlle pursed her lips, her sharply-defined brow furrowing as she took a pensive drag on the Gauloises. ``Go to the Farhangdoustan Club and ask for Zamburak Tehrani,'' she murmured after a long pause, scribbling the eight-digit hex code on a crumpled napkin. ``The Zamburak is an old friend on good terms with all the members of my clade\ldots unlike myself.''

``Farhangdoustan?'' Aurélien asked.

``Farhangdoost are admirers of Persian culture. They inhabit a sim along with many from the Iranian diaspora unhappy with the current state of affairs phys-side. Many disapprove of the West Caspian Union despite desertification rendering half the country uninhabitable,'' Gaëlle replied, flashing a gold signet ring engraved with a \emph{faravahar} ringed by Nishapur turquoise. ``Though I rarely stop by for tea these days, I remain a kindred spirit.''

``Very well.'' Aurélien pocketed the napkin with a subtle nod of acknowledgement. Donning a weathered camel trench coat, they studied the leopard's face for a moment while straightening their tie. ``I'll convene with the Farhangdoost tonight,'' they murmured after golden eyes returned their gaze. ``But\ldots no promises, Gaëlle.''

``I'd expect nothing else. Promises are so easy to break.'' A hint of anxiety was briefly visible beneath the leopard's sphinxlike façade before she regained her composure. ``Try not to get lost in the rain!'' she shouted as the blue jay paused in the doorway.

``In a storm like this, everyone's a little bit lost.'' Aurélien's figure was a silhouette against the gunmetal-tinted world outside, blending into a tapestry of rain-soaked cobblestone and flickering neon. The veiled glow of distant gas lamps painted a watercolor canvas of shadows and smeared light. ``But \emph{après la pluie, le beau temps}. Enjoy your Scotch.''

The leopard turned, pleasantly surprised to find a fresh glass of Glenkinchie set before her. Taking a measured sip, Gaëlle watched as the blue jay's blocky figure slowly diminish until it was gone from her sight, swallowed by the relentless deluge.

\#

If the atmosphere in the Sombres Reflets was \emph{The Maltese Falcon}, the Farhangdoost Club was \emph{Brick and Mirror}. Aurélien stepped onto a cobblestone street lined with neatly-trimmed groves of Persian cypress and slowly exhaled. Dead ahead, a three-story building with a majestic art deco façade was impossible to miss, emerald green and gold details accented by Kashan tilework. The gated archway permitting egress through an unbroken stretch of wrought-iron fence was flanked by two marble cheetahs, each bearing a gleaming torch of sapphire flame.

Giving an acknowledging nod to an oryx concierge, Aurélien entered the manicured \emph{charbagh} and immediately felt out-of-place. The splendor of Pahlavi Iran reflected in the musky-floral scent wafting from jasmine bushes lining the verdant esplanades. It was as if time itself had become disarranged, twisting in on itself until emerging as an imagined never-past.

``\emph{Salam}. Are you looking for someone?'' An Asiatic cheetah gave the blue jay a polite smile, her sapphire Qashqai-style dress flapping lightly in the warm breeze. ``The Farhangdoustan Club usually isn't somewhere one ends up by accident.''

``\emph{Salam},'' Aurélien greeted her with a tip of their crest feathers and a friendly \emph{jeer-jeer}, all while trying to mask their calefaction. Having paused just beyond the shade of a marble colonnade, their silk-cashmere jacket in the late evening sunlight was quickly becoming a portable sauna. ``I'm looking for Zamburak Tehrani. Would you happen to know where I can find him? Preferably somewhere air-conditioned.''

The cheetah's eyes flickered with recognition as she brushed an errant strand of headfur away from her forehead. ``Ah, yes. Fortunately for you, I saw him not five minutes ago,'' she murmured, glancing up at the early evening sun sitting low on the horizon. ``You might consider donning something a little more\ldots breathable. Most of us here prefer it on the warmer side.''

Aurélien nodded, two blue jays visible for a split-second before one---the visibly broiled instance---quit. A lightweight Algerian-style \emph{gandoura} with full sleeves billowed around the new instance's lean frame, threads in the hue of the Tricolour woven through the collar adding a hint of elegance to the otherwise simple tunic.

``Better.'' The cheetah shot them an approving smile. ``Now, follow me, if you would.''

The cheetah led the way through the manicured garden. After passing a pair of ornate fountains encrusted with lapis lazuli, Aurélien briefly paused at an apricot tree basking in the golden sun. Tantalizing fruits hung low on its branches, positioned within easy reach.

The cheetah stopped alongside them, taking note of Aurélien's intent gaze. ``Help yourself,'' she said with a chuckle. ``And I'm not just saying that because of \emph{taarof}.''

``\emph{Merci}.'' With a smile of gratitude, Aurélien quickly reached out and plucked one of the sun-warmed apricots. Juice dribbled out of the corner of their beak as they bit into it, savoring the perfect blend of sweet and tart. ``Are we close?''

``The breezeway is just ahead,'' the cheetah replied while taking an apricot for herself. ``Are you keen to see the Zamburak right away? I'd be happy to give you the full tour, if you're not in a rush.''

``Very much so, I'm afraid,'' Aurélien responded, swiftly finishing off the apricot. Aurélien's foot-claws clicked as they stepped onto lavish Isfahan tilework, refreshing shade sweeping across their crest. ``But your hospitality is appreciated nonetheless.''

Intricate lattice work and columns to the blue jay's left allowed them a clear view of the inner \emph{paridaiza}. A fern-shaded stream coursed through the center of the courtyard, where manicured orange trees bloomed in orderly rows. Farhangdoost---a mix of humans and anthropomorphic animals---lounged about with languid grace, sipping on saffron lassis or conversing beneath cedarwood and canvas sunshades.

The blue jay nodded, a group of chattering marmosets going eerily silent as they passed. Their eyes studied Aurélien intently, disquisitive expressions etched on their muzzles.

The cheetah's ears flicked back at the sudden silence, a slight frown gracing her otherwise serene features. She gave the marmosets a curt nod before slightly quickening her pace ``We aren't exactly a tourist destination,'' the cheetah murmured apologetically. ``I'd imagine few Farhangdoost expect to encounter one fond of the old Troisième République strolling about.''

``I gathered as much,'' Aurélien replied. ``Is it much farther?''

``Not at all.'' The cheetah paused before a gilded door engraved with Persian calligraphy so intricate that Aurélien wouldn't have been able to decipher it even if they knew Farsi---which they absolutely didn't. ``This is where I leave you, Aurélien Delacroix.''

``I don't recall giving you my name,'' the blue jay remarked, surprise momentarily flashing in their sharp eyes.

``Gaëlle told me you were coming,'' the cheetah replied succinctly. ``I'm Anahita, one of the Hamsarparast---volunteer hosts. If you need anything else during your sojourn, simply ask for me at the nearest call-box.''

``Much appreciated.'' Aurélien tilted their head in a respectful nod. Turning to depart, the sudden pressure of Anahita's paw on their shoulder froze them mid-step.

``One more thing, gumshoe,'' Anahita added, voice dropping to a soft purr that was almost drowned out by the wind-rustle of the orange trees. ``Don't forget to enjoy the delights of the Jannah Room.''

Aurélien shot a questioning look at Anahita, but the cheetah simply stepped back and gestured towards the parting doors with an inviting smile. Heading into the antechamber, enormous cabochon gemstones came alive as the last rays of the setting sun streamed through the threshold. Striking figures of peacocks, elephants, and leopards adorned the walls, gazing at the blue jay with jeweled eyes.

Striding purposefully forward, Aurélien brushed aside a velvet curtain to reveal the unvarnished splendor of the Jannah Room. The domed ceiling shimmered with breathtaking blue and gold mosaics depicting the triumph of the King of Kings at the Battle of Thermopylae. Rhythmically strumming, a tar accompanied the hypnotic melody of a santur, filling the sun-dappled \emph{panjdari} with serene music.

To Aurélien, the music seemed almost an afterthought compared to the esculent flora.

Trees with branches of charcoal-charred \emph{nān-e-barbari} were laden with beef-stuffed dolmeh, skewers of richly-spiced lamb kebab, and bite-sized \emph{tahchin} cakes. Beneath them, bushes with lifelike marzipan leaves bloomed with vark-garnished baklava in the shape of pomegranate flowers. A river of golden wine meandered through the center, its sweet aroma intertwining with the scent of rosewater and saffron. Candied tulips bloomed betwixt fountains of borage tea, the beaks of clockwork hummingbirds drawing honeyed nectar from the flowers.

``\emph{Dorood}.'' A king cheetah gestured, goblet in paw, from a floating chaise. Clad in a sumptuous ruby kaftan, Aurélien's intuition marked him as none other than Zamburak Tehrani. His deep-set eyes twinkled with a mischievous spark as his tongue brushed across his gold-capped incisors ``Are you thirsty, stranger? Please, drink your fill.''

``Your hospitality is appreciated, Zamburak.'' The blue jay carefully wrapped their claws around a goblet---one of many---from a table inlaid with mother-of-pearl and flanked by chryselephantine statues holding wicker baskets overflowing with luscious fruit. Respectfully inclining their crest, they allowed the aureate current to fill the chalice to the brim.

Bringing the goblet to their beak, the vapors wafting off the golden wine filled their nares with the rich scent of honey and saffron. After a tentative sip, a blissful warmth rolled down the blue jay's throat, leaving only a hint of brûléed sugar lingering on their palate. A moment later, Aurélien was struck by a bubbling delectation that sent a shiver through their feather-tips.

``May you always find the fruits of life to be sweet.'' The Zamburak lifted his goblet in a leisurely toast. His eyes, molten gold studded with flecks of emerald, studied Aurélien over the rim.

``And may your hospitality remain ever-bountiful,'' Aurélien replied, matching the Zamburak's gesture before taking a sip of the golden elixir. The esoteric feeling of tranquility that followed reminded them of the narcotic Panelim they'd been plied with in the hospital prior to their upload.

``Now, what has brought you to me, hrm?'' The Zamburak's question was followed by a chuckle, a rich baritone that reverberated through the Jannah Room like a firm strike against a \emph{daf}. ``Surely you're not here simply to enjoy a few baklavas.''

``I was told by Gaëlle to seek your counsel,'' Aurélien said, watching as the Zamburak's eyes lit up with recognition. ``You know her, yes?''

``Ah, yes\ldots Gaëlle,'' the Zamburak purred. ``Hopefully you haven't come here seeking my counsel. I am cast in the mold of the Joker of Medina, wise as much as foolish.''

``Fortunately, I only desire information. I'm looking for a member of the Khayyamzadeh Clade.'' Aurélien kept their gaze steady. ``Gaëlle seemed quite interested to know her whereabouts.''

The Zamburak's eyes narrowed to glittering slits before he let out a slow, measured laugh layered with both amusement and exasperation. ``The Khayyamzadeh Clade are a tricky bunch. Are you sure you'd like to get mixed up in their affairs? I find it's rather like trying to bathe in pitch.''

``Perhaps it's a mistake,'' Aurélien replied, setting the goblet on an ebony table with a gentle \emph{clink}. The blue jay's beak seemed to almost curve into a thoughtful frown as they turned slightly away. ``But, sometimes, one has to sing amidst discordant thunderclaps to find the melodies hidden in the storm.''

Using a small wooden paddle, the Zamburak directed his chaise into a small pull-off and climbed onto a shore of smooth-tumbled lapis lazuli. He brushed his kaftan, scrutinizing Aurélien with a keen eye that seemed to instantly size them up. The cheetah strolled over and picked a pomegranate from a tree interlaced with vines of silver-gilded fairy floss. Effortlessly slicing it open, he revealed the \emph{masghati} within.

``If you wish to charge into the storm, I will not stand in your path,'' the cheetah murmured, offering a half of the honey-soaked pomegranate pudding to Aurélien. ``The one you seek is still much like Céleste, for better or worse.''

Gratefully accepting, the blue jay tilted the natural bowl into their beak and allowed the juicy \emph{masghati} to dribble over the edge. Sweet-tart with an underlying note of rosewater, the delicious contrast was an unexpected delight. ``May I be direct, Zamburak?''

``By all means,'' the cheetah replied, waving for the blue jay to follow as he leisurely padded over to the opposite end of the room.

``Why didn't Gaëlle come here and simply address this matter herself?'' Aurélien asked.

The Zamburak rolled a pomegranate seed between his paw pads, studying the vibrant red hue that perfectly mirrored that of his kaftan before popping it into his muzzle. He paused before a wall adorned with ornate \emph{shamshirs}, his golden eyes reflecting the intricate patterns of the Damascus steel. ``Her reasons are her own,'' he murmured. ``But Gaëlle has always preferred to scatter her messages to the wind\ldots and sometimes, that wind arrives in the form of a blue jay.''

``Do you have cigarettes here?'' Aurélien asked, fidgeting by dancing a gold Napoléon coin between their knuckles. ``I could summon some Gauloises, but when in Tehran\ldots''

``Of course,'' the Zamburak replied, his muzzle curving into a smile as a flick of his tail sent a wave rippling through his kaftan. With a flick of his paw, a humidor appeared on a nearby pedestal, filled with a variety of ornate cigarettes capped with plum-colored filters. ``My personal favorite from back when I was phys-side, tobacco from Bahman cigarettes re-rolled with organic paper.''

``You are too kind, Zamburak.'' Aurélien deftly selected a cigarette and lit it with a heavy table-lighter the size of a hardback novel. Exhaling a ring of blueish smoke, the rush of nicotine restored the blue jay's composure. ``Gaëlle told me that you maintain good relations with all members of the Khayyamzadeh Clade. That must be difficult.''

``I try to keep a sense of perspective about interpersonal disputes.'' With a wave of the cheetah's paw, the elaborate murals adorning the ceiling faded away, revealing a cosmos undimmed by light pollution. Stretched out like a silk canvas, the twinkle of vast galaxies and nebulae seemed to swirl and dance amidst the cosmic inkblot. ``Tell me, stranger. What do you see when you gaze up at the night sky?''

``Stars, of course.'' Aurélien replied.

``I would've said the same thing, once.'' the Zamburak replied. ``Then, a teacher opened my eyes to a deeper truth. Now I see infinite stories, all intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. Stars born and dying, civilizations rising and falling\ldots all woven into an eternal tapestry stretching across the æther.'' Seeing a flash of intrigue in Aurélien's eyes, the Zamburak continued. ``In the grand scheme of things, the disputes we endure and the misunderstandings we face...they're no more than footprints on the cosmic beach.''

``The universe sometimes requires us to place our hands upon the sand and leave a mark, even if the wind will eventually erase it,'' Aurélien replied, exhaling a plume of silver-white smoke towards the welkin. ``The wind may efface the imprint, but the beach remembers the weight that once was.''

With a playful smile, the Zamburak used his barbed tongue to scrape the interior of the pomegranate clean. Setting it aside, he removed a \emph{shamshir} with an emerald the size of a tangerine set in the pommel and balanced it in the center of his palm as though it were the feather of Ma'at. ``Then I must ask; are you a believer in the sibylline arts, Aurélien?''

``Perhaps something of the divine survives in the sublunary realm around us,'' the blue jay replied. Aurélien took a deep draw, studying every detail of the intensifying ember at the tip of their cigarette. ``Lines of code cannot sculpt dreams any more than I can carve a ray of sunlight.''

``Then I will clue you in. Every \emph{shamshir} here''---the Zamburak drew the saber from its damascened scabbard---``holds a secret, just as a scabbard holds the blade.''

Aurélien pursed their beak, instinct drawing them to a \emph{shamshir} with a golden hilt adorned with strips of shimmering fire opal. The iridescent scales pulsed in their grasp as they shed the scabbard to reveal a blade etched with an angular motif of a falling star streaking across the horizon. ``And how would I reveal such a secret?''

``The same way a humble cheetah learned many years ago,'' replied the Zamburak, brandishing a \emph{shamshir} that gleamed like the stars on a blanket of unbroken snow. The crossguard was formed from a silver-banded section of fossilized \emph{Smilodon }incisor, rustic and opulent in equal measure. ``Are you familiar with the basics of swordplay?''

Aurélien's feathers bristled with anticipation. ``I know enough not to cut myself,'' they replied, the opalescent spark in their eyes matching the hilt of the \emph{shamshir} their claws lightly gripped. Taking in the weight of the weapon, the blue jay found it heavier than a fencing saber, but with a masterful balance that encouraged the wrist to arc and pivot.

The Zamburak let out a throaty laugh that echoed across the chamber as he settled into an \emph{en garde} stance. The traditional Persian music faded away, replaced by the lively interplay of a saxophone and bassoon. ``Then let us begin the Shamshir Dance. Fortunately, the stakes are quite a bit lower here than phys-side.''

Aurélien moved lightly on the balls of their feet, the blade in their hands perfectly balanced as they mirrored the Zamburak's poised stance. ``The first rule of the Shamshir Dance''---the Zamburak tensed as he stored energy in his thighs---``is to listen to your blade.''

Closing the distance between them in a graceful pounce, Zamburak aimed a swift downward blow at Aurélien's midsection. At the last possible second, Aurélien mirrored his action on the upswing in a sonorous \emph{clang} that shook the stars. Flicking the tip of the \emph{shamshir} as if plucking at invisible harp strings, the blue jay grimaced and slowly drove the cheetah back.

``The second rule''---the Zamburak continued, luminous eyes gleaming under the starlight like a radium watch dial---``is to listen to your opponent's blade as you would your own. Any less and you are merely sparring instead of dancing with your partner. This is a dance, not a duel.''

Aurélien nodded, caught off guard as the Zamburak launched himself forward, his \emph{shamshir} slicing through the air in a horizontal arc. Just in time, the blue jay parried, the meeting of blades ringing throughout the \emph{panjdari}. The impact wasn't jarring; instead, the melodic transfer of energy was as though their \emph{shamshirs} were singing to one another. ``Are there any more rules that I should be aware of?''

``Fortunately, just one more. The third rule''---the Zamburak said with calm conviction---``is to clear your inner eye to observe all that may be observed. Together, we allow the Shamshir Dance to unfold and allow the universe to speak to us. This is the mystic art of \emph{shamshirfaal}.''

Parting their beak, Aurélien drew a quick breath as they narrowly dodged another sweeping cut. Despite giving off the initial impression of a beast of leisure, the Zamburak was shockingly athletic. ``And you've found that this\ldots{}\emph{shamshirfaal} works?'' they asked, leaping atop a table and gracefully parrying from the high ground.

``Talk less and observe more,'' the cheetah replied smoothly, launching himself onto the table with Aurélien. The wood creaked under their combined weight, the Persian carpets around them billowing slightly in their wake. ``Silence is a language all its own.''

The Zamburak's \emph{shamshir} whizzed by, barely an inch from Aurélien's beak. The blue jay stumbled backwards, but quickly regained their footing as they were simultaneously struck by inspiration. ``The language of two co-cladists sitting together in an empty playground, saying nothing and yet everything to each other at the same moment.''

``Very good,'' the Zamburak said approvingly. He shifted his stance, back leg extending to prepare for another lunge. ``You're a fast learner.''

As if on cue, the lively saxophone and bassoon music faded away, replaced by an instant of perfect quiet as though the universe itself were holding its breath. Both \emph{shamshir}-wielders paused to savor the moment of suspended reality, their eyes locked in an exchange that transcended mere words.

And then, breaking the stillness, the Zamburak lunged forward, \emph{shamshir} gleaming like molten silver under the starlight. Long-buried memories swirled in Aurélien's inner eye, sweat dripping from their forefeathers as they employed elegant parries learned in another life and another body. Superior agility keeping the Zamburak off-balance, the blue jay managed to hold their own.

If the Zamburak was Céleste and Aurélien was Gaëlle, then their relationship had been a delicate balance, each one needing to listen just as much as to speak. Every meeting of their blades echoed the natural rhythm of conversation, the Zamburak's flowing, off-rhythm strikes embodying Céleste's mercurial spirit, while Aurélien's calculated parries and cuspate ripostes reflected Gaëlle's minervan nature.

Céleste's fork became clearer in their mind; no longer an abstract notion but a lynx slowly emerging in Athenian glory. The Zamburak managed to slip under Aurélien's guard, and the blue jay caught a glimpse of deep crimson as pain shot through their side. Stumbling backward, the shock of the shallow wound jolted them into perfect focus.

``Silent paws in the snow,'' Aurélien muttered under their breath, feathers bristling with insight. Their backward stumble had spilled a small mountain of Turkish delight onto the floor, leaving delicate tracks visible in the powdered sugar. ``Is the Farhangdoustan Club the only part of this sim?''

``No, it is not,'' the Zamburak affirmed with a dulcet purr. ``While I personally prefer to sunbathe on Kish Island, there are a few among the Farhangdoost who prefer to live amidst the snow-capped peaks of the Zagros Mountains.''

``How do I get there?'' Aurélien asked, sheathing their \emph{shamshir} to mirror the Zamburak's movement. The cheetah plucked a piece of Turkish delight off the floor and popped it into his muzzle before gesturing toward a door that had materialized in the nearest wall. ``Really? That's it?''

``Sometimes a door is just a door,'' the Zamburak replied as he turned a knob covered with a thick coating of crystalline frost. It swung outward to reveal a sprawling vista of white-capped mountains, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like giant daggers. Snow fell gently, dancing and swirling in the crisp air before settling in a thick blanket on the ground.

Aurélien, still nursing the shallow wound on their side, hesitated. ``Is there anything I need to know before I go through?''

``You're going to want to fork on the other side.'' The cheetah took the blue jay's \emph{shamshir} and slotted it neatly back into the appointed holder. ``Do come visit us again, Âghâ Delacroix. All friends of culture are welcome at the Farhangdoustan Club. \emph{Safar khosh begzared}.''

``\emph{Merci},'' Aurélien replied, giving the Zamburak a respectful nod before pausing at the threshold. Ruffling their feathers and drawing a deep breath, Aurélien stepped through the doorway and immediately beak-planted into a snowbank, conking their crest against the unyielding trunk of a fallen tree\ldots{}

\#

Aurélien awoke half-frozen, the powdery snow having soaked through the thin cotton of their \emph{gandoura}. With an aggrieved sigh, they forked into a climate-appropriate outfit, swapping the lightweight tunic for a well-insulated down jacket and waterproof pants. A fierce wind stirred their plumage, nipping at the slight gaps between the feathers on their cheeks. ``I could have done with a warning about the drop, Zamburak,'' they murmured under their breath.

In the distance, Aurélien caught a glimpse of red-orange light through the rapidly intensifying flurries. With no other signs of civilization in sight, they began to trudge toward it, pulling their hood tighter while tilting their beak down against the bitter cold. Their thickly-gloved hands fumbled for a cigarette, only barely managing to tear the pack open on their fourth attempt.

Framed by the swirling snowflakes, Aurélien withdrew a single filterless Gauloises. With years of practice, they clamped it between the frost-kissed edges of their beak and lit it with a strike-anywhere match. Drawing the smoke deep into their breast, Aurélien let the rush of nicotine siphon some of the piercing chill away.

After a few minutes of effortful trekking, Aurélien stumbled into a small and irregular clearing. Standing out against a background of scraggly trees, the red-orange light illuminated a rustic log cabin with shutters painted a vibrant gold. A healthy plume of smoke curled from the stacked stone chimney, while a pair of well-loved skis were propped against the railing of the front porch. The half-smoked Gauloises dangled from Aurélien's beak as they climbed weather-beaten stairs that loudly groaned with each step.

Aurélien rapped their knuckles on a dense oak door adorned with a wreath of juniper branches interwoven with fragrant strips of dried orange peel. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a cozy living room bathed in the glow of a half-spent fire, playful shadows dancing across the worn Persian rugs dotting the hardwood floor.

``\emph{Quelle surprise}.'' The lynx standing in the doorway appraised Aurélien with emerald eyes, a half-smile on her muzzle as the acrid smoke from the Gauloises mingled with the frosty air. ``I wasn't expecting company but\ldots convention demands I offer you hospitality. Just put that damn cigarette out before you come in.''

Aurélien wordlessly flicked the Gauloises into the nearest snowbank. Stepping over the threshold, they were greeted with the beak-watering scent of roasting meat. The blue jay silently cursed themselves for neglecting Anahita's advice to fully appreciate the delights of the Jannah Room. ``You keep a lovely home,'' Aurélien remarked.

``It doesn't quite have the grandeur of the Farhangdoustan Club, but it suits me just fine,'' the lynx replied. Futzing over a silver-plated samovar warmed by a small kerosene burner, she poured steaming tea into a pair of chipped porcelain cups as Aurélien hung their jacket over the back of a chintz armchair. ``Do you take sugar?''

Aurélien rubbed their hands together for a moment before stretching them out towards the primally-satisfying warmth of the hearth. ``Yes, two spoonfuls,'' they said reflexively. ``And if you'd be so kind, a bit of cream, \emph{s'il vous plait}.''

The lynx huffed out a laugh as she sauntered back to the barebones kitchen tucked away in the rear of the cabin. Opening a crazed porcelain icebox, she retrieved a small bottle of cream and shook it gently before adding a generous measure to one of the tea cups. She set them down on a gnarled ashwood table, steam swirling delicately upward in the lukewarm air. ``Here you are, stranger.''

``Thank you.'' Aurélien lifted the cup to their beak, grateful to have something to further warm their cold-stiffened fingers. They took a deep breath of the fragrant steam before taking a measured sip. Strong and laced with a hint of cinnamon, the tea settled comfortably in the pit of their stomach. ``So, you're Céleste's fork, yes?''

``Are you here to offer condolences?'' The lynx stiffened slightly, her eyes darting to the slowly diminishing fire before settling back on Aurélien. She took a leisurely sip of her tea, her nubby tail flicking with mild agitation. ``You could've left a vase of ice-lilies on the porch in lieu of undertaking a \emph{vol de la mort}.''

``No, that's not why I came,'' Aurélien replied. Their feathers ruffled slightly under the weight of her attention as they turned to stare into the swirling umber within their cup. ``I'm here because I was tasked with finding you. And\ldots perhaps also to put some ghosts to rest. Aurélien Delacroix, at your service.''

``Is that so?'' The lynx's ears pricked up as her foot-claws rapped against the unstained pine floorboards. ``Was it Gaëlle who requested your services?''

A slight nod of the blue jay's head served as confirmation. ``She was most eager to get in touch with you after all that has happened as of late. Are you aware?''

``I enjoy voluntary solitude, but I don't live under a rock.'' The lynx's face remained inscrutable, her emerald eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. Aurélien noted she wore a familiar signet ring, silver, engraved with a \emph{farvahar}, and ringed by brilliant Kerman garnets. ``No one mourns an untimely passing more than I.''

``Except perhaps Gaëlle.'' Aurélien tilted their head to the side, observing the lynx carefully. ``What kept you from reaching out?''

``It's not that I didn't want to.'' The lynx's gaze flickered momentarily, her tufted ears dipping slightly. Her lithe figure cut an argentine silhouette against the chintz, her silver-white dress flowing around her like liquid starlight. ``But the past has a way of keeping us apart, doesn't it?'' she murmured, her nubby tail swaying in rhythm with the crackling fire.

``Yes,'' Aurélien finally echoed in a low susurration. ``It has a knack of doing that.''

``Gaëlle nursed a crush on Céleste for many decades.'' The lynx softly chuckled. ``She never let on too strongly, always courteous to a fault...but Céleste knew.''

Aurélien took a long sip of the tea, savoring the warmth spreading through the inside of their beak. ``And Céleste didn't feel the same way?''

``No, it wasn't that.'' Shadows cut across her angular cheekbones as she seemed to shrink into the pillow cushions. ``Céleste was fond of Gaëlle, perhaps more so than anyone else. Gaëlle's sharp beauty is a sight to behold, wouldn't you agree?''

``She's like twilight over the Seine, dancing upon the \emph{Tour Eiffel}.'' Aurélien nodded in agreement as a falling log sent a shower of sparks bouncing off the smooth river stones that lined the hearth. ``And what about you?'' Aurélien asked.

``I am a complicated soul,'' the lynx replied, thoughtfully pursing her lips. Soft light accentuated youthful features in stark contrast to the mélange of nostalgia and melancholy in her wizened eyes. ``Céleste's heart had seen too many twilights over the Seine. Dusk also means night is near.''

``True enough, but twilight has its own beauty,'' Aurélien murmured. Taking a sip of their tea, they paused and inquisitively cocked their beak. ``Tell me, stranger. What do you see when you gaze up at the night sky?''

``Infinite stories, all intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. Stars born and dying, civilizations rising and falling\ldots all woven into an eternal tapestry stretching across the æther,'' the lynx replied. The fire quivered momentarily as a particularly violent gust of wind rattled the cabin's foundations. ``I see a storyteller. What do you see, stranger?''

Aurélien paused, taking note of the \emph{shamshir} hanging behind the hearth, hilt inlaid with emeralds matching the lynx's eyes. The scabbard was damascened with a design of a serene river reflecting the heavenly glory of two almond-shaped moons hanging low in the sky. ``I suppose I see heavenly glory, Céleste\ldots and Zamburak Tehrani's old teacher.''

``Mrm, you are clever.'' The lynx's eyes gleamed with distilled starlight. ``So, what now? Are you going to tell Gaëlle the truth?''

Aurélien peered down into the dregs of their tea, scanning for omens in the waterlogged leaves. The hisses and pops of the fading fire punctuated the silence between them. ``I was only hired to find you,'' they murmured, noting what appeared to be the silhouette of a mushroom as they set their now empty cup down. ``What happens next is not up to me.''

``\emph{C'est la vie},'' Céleste quipped, pushing herself off the chair. Squatting beside the hearth, she casually dropped several more logs onto the pile with a resounding \emph{thu-clack} each time. ``We're always beholden to the decisions of others, whether they be friends, lovers, or co-cladists. Perhaps I just wanted a taste of living for myself, at least for a little while. It's been so long since I experienced solitude, I'd forgotten what it was like.''

``And now?'' Aurélien asked.

``Now?'' Céleste shot an inscrutable smile over her shoulder. Turning away, she picked up a wrought-iron poker and pensively stirred the embers before sweeping some of the ashes aside. ``Now I drink until my samovar is empty and consider how much longer I'd like to gaze at the heavens alone.''

``Sounds like a lovely way to pass the witching hour. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome.'' Aurélien stood up and tucked a cigarette into their beak---leaving it unlit, per Céleste's request. ``You've been more than gracious to an uninvited guest.''

``Off so soon? I hope that I didn't chase you away,'' the lynx murmured. ``Our little discussion was just starting to get interesting.''

``Not at all,'' Aurélien assured her while deftly slipping on their jacket, thoughts drifting to their clade, long scattered to the winds. Perhaps it might be time to reach out, if only to have an excuse to enjoy the famous flambéed cocktails of the Le Fougueux speakeasy. ``But, if star-gazing ever gets a bit lonely---''

``---I'll join Gaëlle at the swings with a bottle of Armand de Brignac,'' the lynx murmured. Escorting Aurélien to the door, she crossed the cozy space in a few graceful strides. Upon cracking it open, the pair were greeted by a gust of sharp wind that whipped up ethereal swirls across the wintry landscape.

Aurélien shivered, giving Céleste a warm \emph{jeer-jeer} as they pulled their coat tighter. ``I was going to say you could find me,'' they finished. ``If you're ever in need of a stiff drink and some company, leave a message for me with the bartender at the Sombres Reflets. Just ask for Aurélien Delacroix.''

``Perhaps I should end my brief stint as an anchoress. After all, Death could have just as easily have kindly stopped for me as for my fork.'' A coy smile danced on Céleste's muzzle. ``Can you give Gaëlle a message for me?''

Aurélien tilted their head and cocked an inquiring eyebrow. ``Of course.''

``Just because the stars are scattered does not mean they are separated.'' The lynx looked upward, gazing past the silver-white clouds to the celestial bodies dancing in a cosmic ballet---toward eternity. ``They all belong to the same sky, Monsieur Delacroix.''

\protect\hypertarget{anchor}{}{} ``I'll pass the message along.'' Aurélien closed their eyes as the door's latch clicked shut behind them. The bluejay sent a ping to Gaëlle as an exhausted sigh escaped from their beak. Still, at the Sombres Reflets, there would be time enough to enjoy the satisfaction of providing the first drop of molten gold for relationship \emph{kintsugi}\ldots and perhaps also gather the fortitude to reach out to a few co-cladists. ``\emph{Nos cœurs se tiennent par la main, même quand les distances nous séparent.}''

The blue jay exhaled and vanished, leaving only eternity in their wake.

\textasciitilde{} END \textasciitilde{}
