At the dimming of the day [Aiolos]

It was a beautiful evening in late July, Lario's favourite time of year. While technically summer was already drawing towards it's conclusion, it wasn't until this time of year that the evenings and nights as well as the days could be truly considered warm. Here, so far North where it never got truly warm (in the old Incin's opinion) such times were to be cherished. Today had been one of blazing sunshine, almost perfectly clear skies and barely the hint of a breeze, and Lario was glad he had returned from his elemental form a couple of hours after dawn, and thus had spent the entire day in the Council grounds. These extended over a large area and thus he had walked as far as the tall pines that graced the lower edges of the closest hills, edifices that couldn't quite be called mountains but yet had a pure, natural beauty.

Late afternoon, and a feeling familiar to almost everyone but almost-forgotten to this man drew him back to the buildings. It was a rare occasion that he ate with the acolytes these days, but he was welcomed as an old friend; he may be a harbinger, but in his heart he was still very much one of them. It was relaxing and joyous to share conversation and even a few jokes with those he had known for decades or even longer, enjoying simple foods and sharing a couple of bottles of ginger wine that one of the incin zealots had brought back from the town. The meal was almost finished when Lario was handed the note by a younger typh who had recently arrived at the shrine from Sierra Leone. He took it with a smile, draining his glass and leaning back to read it. His eyes flickered with concern as he read the contents, but outwardly there was no reaction.

It was a simple note from a fellow elemental, asking if he was free to talk privately. But the Spaniard now realised that Aiolos was not at the table, and apparently had not been morphed as he had assumed. "I don't suppose anyone has a quill?" he asked, accepting one of the three that were offered and writing a quick reply in English on the back of the note In the grounds, past the Madin shrine? It's a pleasant evening for an after-dinner stroll. He re-furled the scroll, handed the quill back and accepted the offer of another acolyte to deliver it to his friend. Then, after agreeing that ginger wine was indeed his favourite and he would be delighted to take the remaining half bottle, he headed back into the grounds, first pausing to don a heavier cloak. As he walked back through the courtyard, the beginnings of a crimson and gold sunset crept into the sky.

It was a beautiful evening in late July, and the beginnings of a crimson and gold sunset were creeping into the sky, but Aiolos hardly noticed. He was severely conflicted. The effectiveness of his normal evening meditations had been paltry and insubstantial since that fateful midnight meeting with the Demin Zealot just a few weeks ago. Aiolos was torn between feelings of agreement with some of Nolan Cairns' sentiments - such as wanting to stop hiding his Elementalism from the rest of the wizarding world - and concerns over Nolan's possible growing infidelity. Not that Aiolos was loyal to the Council in particular, but he didn't bear them any ill will and considered them good stewards of the Six. So why couldn't he shake this off?

More than anything he wanted to talk to the person in the best position for him as a friend and a Council member - Candelario, the Harbinger Incin, and his old friend. But for two weeks he had delayed, staved it off, made excuses, and worked himself into a vortex of worry. Finally, today, he had had enough. He would need to talk to Lario alone, in an unofficial capacity, and get a feel for how the rest of the Grey was thinking before he decided whether to say anything about Nolan specifically.

He went into the "office" that the Typh acolytes used - a bothy off to the side of the shrine staging area - and jotted down a small note on a piece of parchment: Are you free to speak privately? ᾳᴧፁ He rolled it up and emerged, observing the Discipli and Advocates that were just finishing their late afternoon lessons, and pulled aside a young Disciplus whose name he had not yet learned. "Take this letter for to Harbinger Sandoval, please," he directed in his limited English. "Ish ah, Guilley," the young woman had replied in Council Gaelic, and went on her way.

That should have put his mind at ease, but by this point the normally carefree Typh Acolyte was so worried that he began to have paranoid thoughts. Suppose she couldn't find Lario? Suppose she read the note? Suppose she gave it to Nolan, or Rozenn (the Demin Harbinger)? Suppose Lario couldn't meet with him? Mentally shaking himself, Aiolos forced himself to relax. The Disciplus would not know Nolan, though she would know of Rozenn just as she would know of Lario. Nothing in his missive had been combative, informative, or otherwise suspicious - and even asking to speak to Lario privately was not suspicious, as all who lived and worked in the Council complex knew that the two of them were long-acquainted and close to each other.

The reply came back an hour later by way of one of the Incin Acolytes. Aiolos thanked the man, re-entered his office, and unrolled it: In the grounds, past the Madin shrine? It's a pleasant evening for an after-dinner stroll. Relieved, Aiolos burned the parchment in a nearby torch, then closed up the bothy and headed down the hallways to his - hopefully fortuitous - encounter.

At this time of day it was unlikely there would be anyone else this far out in the grounds. A casual observer might assume that the Madin elementals would claim this area as their own, given that it was in the environ of their own shrine, or perhaps the Demins would feel an affinity with the craggy hills and spend time out here; but Lario had spent well over a century calling Inverness home in one form or another, and he knew the area well. As animals had their own preferred territories and, as creatures of habit, rarely strayed from their boundaries, so did humans, be they muggle, wizard or elemental. Perhaps those affiliated to Earth found their own shrine so beautiful they felt little need to stray past it's trees and plants. Perhaps these hills were less attractive than the bounders that studded the lake shoreline in the opposite direction. The reasons weren't important so much as the knowledge that this was a good place to be alone to meditate, or to have a private conversation.

Because something was bothering his young friend, that was obvious. Private conversations could be had in one's own quarters, or even at the entrance to one of the shrines at a quiet time; Lario had long since lost count of the number of times they had simply met by chance and spent hours discussing every subject under the Sun, oblivious of anyone overhearing. True, there were secrets at Inverness, but these tended to fall into two categories. The secrets of each element, guarded with a fierce love and pride by all everyone affiliated to it. These tended not to be discussed outside of shrines, Council meetings or private occasions. And then there were the secrets that were nothing more than gossip. This man had accidentally been seen morphing in view of a muggle and the Ministry of Magic had needed to perform a memory charm. That woman had refused to allow her child to attend Durmstrang because she didn't believe their education would suit an elemental. This girl...

The old elemental shook his head thoughtfully. No, this was something else. He turned back towards the direction of the Council buildings and waited. But his musings on the subject of gossip brought a very mundane thought into his mind. If a regular wizard or even a muggle was able to see him now, what would they imagine? An elderly man, cloaked in deep red, wandering alone at sunset carrying a bottle of wine? He chuckled at the thought, even as he saw a familiar figure approach. "Aiolos, my friend" he greeted in French once they were close enough that he wouldn't need to raise his voice "A pleasant evening for pleasant company, is it not? Will you walk with me?" he gestured in the direction of the hills, further away from the rest of their fellow elementals.

The voice speaking to him as he approached Çhiamble Madin startled Aiolos for a split second, until he registered the language and the speaker. Then he relaxed more than he had for the past fortnight. Lario's choice of words had much to do with that - it was evident nobody else was close enough to hear them, even though they planned to walk further away from the Council complex regardless, so the Incin Harbinger had referred to him familiarly instead of by title. "I would love to," he replied likewise in French. "Shall we?"

No more words were necessary, the two of them moving toward the hills away from the main complex. Of course, no matter what way you walked away from the complex, you were heading toward hills - such was the consequence of living in the Scottish Highlands. Normally for his private meditations Aiolos went northeast toward Inverness itself (far in the distance), as that was the side of the complex the Typh Shrine was located on. On this occasion they were headed south, toward the River Ness (again far in the distance). It was difficult to find a stretch that the Muggles hadn't built a road up against, but being a wizard had its perks, and they had cordoned off a portion of the riverbank for the Grey Council's use. Aiolos wasn't sure if Lario intended to take them quite that far, though he wouldn't mind.

As they made their way through the evening, Aiolos reflected on Lario's choice of French for their conversation. It was one of the languages they shared in common, Lario having also attended Beauxbatons (a full century and a half before Aiolos, of course), and it was not the all-inclusive Council Gaelic that practically every other Elemental would understand - with the exception of the younger Discipli. The Grecian appreciated the gesture. While as before it was unlikely they would be overheard, Aiolos had never had a need to talk to his Harbinger friend quite as desperately as he did now. Lario was also one of the few who knew that Aiolos' loyalty to the Council as a whole was a default condition, that his true loyalty was to the Elemental sources themselves - part of the reason that he like Lario had become an Acolyte in the first place.

"Lario," he began in French again after some time, though not stopping his footsteps. "I've been on the receiving end of some uncomfortable opinions about the Council - opinions which I genuinely cannot determine whether or not they are true. And you know how unusual that is for me." He stepped over a fallen tree, picking up the hem of his robe as he did so, and went on, "I will probably ultimately tell you from whence I heard these troubling things, but if you would give an old friend some peace of mind and either refute or confirm them first, you would honour our relationship greatly."

They reached a small cliff, or steep hill face, and Aiolos did at this stop and look over the vista in front of them without truly seeing any of it. "I'm sure you can already tell that this disturbs me more than I have ever felt before."

The old elemental had a suspicion what this was about. Not the source, or what was actually worrying his young friend, but there was something in the other's stance, the cadence of his words, some small look in the eyes that added up to major concerns. Perhaps not many would see it, but you didn't get to be almost two centuries old without learning to read the smaller nuances of body language that might otherwise be overlooked. Knowing the other man couldn't currently see his facial expression, Lario allowed himself a smile. He could read people, but not his native tongue. Writing and reading in Spanish was something he hadn't learned as a child, and had simply never got around to. Always there had been more pressing matters...and perhaps there always would be, he mused as they walked on.

Lario didn't try to fill up the silence with poorly-chosen words. There was no need, and he was comfortable with the quiet. It gave him time to compose his thoughts, even before he knew exactly why they were there. When Aiolos finally spoke, it was telling that he too spoke in French. The older man had chosen their mutual language to let him know that it was fine to keep this meeting a secret, that whatever was said would remain between friends. So the Incin elemental listened, saying nothing, until he was sure that the other had finished. In his younger days Lario had been impulsive, excitable, and would likely have interrupted after just a few words, assuming he already understood everything about the situation. Strange, how he would have been so eager to advise a century or more earlier when he would have had so much less to say.

Now, he thought over what had been said. Uncomfortable opinions would be anything that directly contradicted the Council's teachings...so someone was suggesting they reject their stance of neutrality? It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, but while Voldemort was powerful those had been exceptional circumstances. Lario couldn't imagine what might prompt someone to make that suggestion. He dismissed the possibility for now, while at the same time keeping an open mind in case there was something he hadn't thought of.

The other disquieting thought that presented itself was that someone disagreed with elementals keeping apart from the rest of the wizarding world. If that was the case... a suspicion crept quietly into the Spaniard's mind and whispered a name. He had barely noticed that they had reached the top of a small cliff, though now they slowed to a halt he recognised the place.

"When I was a small boy I would climb this hill" he said quietly "I thought it was the biggest adventure I could have on my own; everything else was studying and learning...not that I minded, of course. But to come out here, to take a risk that nobody else knew about, that was a thrill I hadn't experienced anywhere else. Until the day I fell, of course, and I was found within minutes, because of course the acolytes knew I was heading out alone. They couldn't risk a ten year old wandering into a bunch of muggles and accidentally setting them on fire."  He smiled and shook his head "Secrets in the Council are unusual, but not unheard of, you see. And if they start out that way, they tend not to remain that way for long..."

It was his way of reassuring Aiolos that, while he wouldn't mention their meeting, he would offer what advice he could and they could decide together if anything further needed to be done.

At first Aiolos couldn't understand what relevance the story that Lario was telling had on the current situation, other than an interesting anecdote about where they had ended up. But he had been friends with the now Harbinger Incin long enough to know that the Spaniard spoke little that was useless, and there was a reason for what he was sharing. By the time Lario smiled and made his remark about "secrets in the Council," Aiolos thought he understood. Lario would keep Aiolos' privacy and anonymity, but one way or another the word would eventually get out. The Grecian steeled himself as he decided to take the plunge anyway and mentally lean on his friend for support.

"It's been... suggested to me," he began slowly, "that the Council is in error for holding us back and keeping us in hiding. Which I realise is not an unusual thought." He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling quite dry, and went on, "It's been suggested to me that the power we wield would best be used to provide a benevolent... uh... rule over..."

He shook his head violently and clenched his fists before letting out a primal sound of frustration, "AAGH!" Then he looked Lario straight in the eyes and blurted out, "Some Elementals think we should control the rest of wizardkind. That because of our powers of magic of the natural world, we should come out of hiding and force the foolish warmongers among wizardkind to stop fighting each other and start using their powers responsibly."

Aiolos quite suddenly dropped to a sitting position against one of the trees, taking in several deep breaths as a combination of panic (at having spoken the words) and relief (at having reported them to a friend in authority) took him over. His internal conflict manifested outwardly only as the lightest of breezes, whirling swiftly around his head and body but small in strength. The feel of the air would normally calm him down, but he knew this was a deeper, more complex problem than he had yet faced in his tenure as an Acolyte. Not bigger than, perhaps, Voldemort's war, or the rogue attacks on Beauxbatons, but carrying heavy implications nonetheless.

"The same person that I spoke with implied that the Council's democratic method of rule was weak, and that democracy only develops when there is no real leader," Aiolos managed to add, more subdued than before. "That part I am almost certain I don't agree with, but I have been so confused. The strength of the man's conviction made me falter in my own beliefs, more than once."

What he wanted to do was ask Lario straightforward questions about the Council's plans, intent, overall goals. But what he needed, first, was some sort of comfort.

Hands folded loosely behind his back, Lario walked slowly, appearing to admire the clouds and be interested in the small things of nature. While he had an appreciation for all things, whether or not of his own element, what he was actually doing was giving his young friend the opportunity to speak in his own time. Even if nothing was said, that would be perfectly acceptable too; sometimes just being in the company of another was enough to put one's mind at ease and help to see things more clearly.

But apparently not on this occasion, As the old Harbinger had feared, there was more afoot than a simple concern. Someone was speaking of things that were tantamount to heresy, things that had been discussed, nay, fought over in the past. There was a long history of elementals who felt that they were better than muggles, better than regular wizardkind, that they should rule over them all. It was a distasteful, wrong belief in Lario's mind, but he had hoped it would not come to a head so soon. Another few decades, even years and he may no longer be around to worry about the possible consequences. That was simple postponing the inevitable, but "at least I wouldn't be the one to deal with it" he sighed quietly, almost inaudibly.

For he knew what was coming, knew as soon as Aiolos began to speak. At least one person within the Council was voicing dissent and attempting to gather others to that viewpoint. When the other man let out a cry of something almost akin to rage, Lario stopped dead in his tracks, startled. He turned and looked Aiolos directly in the face as the other blurted out his fears. And then it was all out in the open, and he had no choice but to take it seriously. he nodded, but offered no further response as yet. He sensed there was something more. Relaxing a little, he allowed the tiny flames that had sparked at his fingertips to expire and return to their source.

"Let me ask you this" he began, thinking of previous arguments that had happened within the Council, decades and more earlier "If the most violent warrior on earth proclaimed himself leader, and you followed him, would it be out of trust and belief in his teachings, or out of fear that he might destroy you? Democracy develops when leadership is benign or at most nonviolent, and when those who are not in charge do not feel threatened by those who seek to lead them." He paused, wondering how much he should say. It was clear that the younger man wanted comfort, but for the moment it was beyond him to offer so much. His own mind was reeling from the discovery that things were more serious than he had thought. 

"The source of these implications. One might say it was unchanging as...these mountains, mightn't one?" he asked casually. Lario almost hoped that his suspicions were entirely wrong.

Unchanging as these mountains.

Aiolos appreciated Lario's use of circumspection when it came to asking about "the source," as he put it, of the unrest. The "mountains" of course meant the stone, Demin. But Lario was even more correct than he realised. The greater Inverness area, within which the Grey Council sat, was nested directly between the Northwest Highlands and a branch of the Grampian Mountains called the Cairngorms. Cairngorms, as in Nolan Cairns. Aiolos wouldn't say anything trite like saying that things would be "going south" soon, but somehow he was still fairly certain that Candelario was already suspicious of, if not certain of, the origin of the implications.

"I would say yes," Aiolos answered hesitantly, continuing their conversation in French and still trying to clamp down on the whipping little breezes of his own discomfort. "But that would also mean that such ideas and such discord have been a regular counterpoint to the Council's position. Can it really have been that way for so long?" Even as he spoke the words Aiolos realised that, of course this could have been a long argument continuing. Elementals lived longer than most of wizardkind to begin with, and they had been around for a very long time already. Surely there would have been questions as time went on of whether or not to totally reveal themselves to the rest of the world, magical or otherwise.

"There is a certain safety in remaining with the traditional, the what-is-known, the comfortable and able to control," Aiolos mused, voicing his split opinion to his old friend. "But there is also an allure and a blind promise to the changing and the what-could-be." He looked back at the Incin Harbinger and asked, "How sits the Council on this matter? Do they all support the old ways, or is there no clear consensus?"

So the cycle continued. For that was the way Lario saw such things; life didn't tend to happen in closed pockets of time, but rather as  an interconnected series of events, never really beginning or ending but rather flowing from one thing to the next. Perhaps the watery analogy was incongruous with his own element and personality, but it made sense, particularly given that certain things seemed to resurface time and time again. There had always been those who sought to disrupt the balance of power within the Council, generally for their own benefit, and always they failed. However, there was always a price to be paid…

"Longer than you or even I can imagine. In this case, when the source is as unchanging as these mountains, the unrest is as underlying as the bedrock upon which we stand." he sighed, and stared out across the land upon which he had lived for almost two centuries, a place he loved. "And of course, the Council's position is as unchanging as the unrest. Non-interference, secrecy…I hardly need to continue. The majority of the Council support the traditional viewpoint; those of us who have studied the ancient historical manuscripts understand the necessity of secrecy. But…" he hesitated, not wishing to shut down the discussion. If his friend was concerned and, as it seemed, having doubts about the wisdom of the Council, the last thing he wanted to do was to make Aiolos feel he couldn't voice a dissenting opinion.

"As I said earlier, secrets in the Council are unusual. But secrets spoken to the Council, or a member thereof…well, not all words need to be repeated." In other words, tell me what's on your mind. Let me know why you're worried, and then we can decide how best to deal with it. "And let us not forget, our rule of non-interference was well and truly broken when we sheltered children in The Ward not three years ago. In fact -" he smiled to himself "I still receive letters from one or two of those who I taught to speak French and Spanish…"