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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:18:18 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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(10/27/03 2:08 am)
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Silence and Firelight (Continued)
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The Jappa woman nodded, then thought for a moment, uncertain if it would be polite, but decided to ask anyway, “Why do you throw bread into the fire?”
“Bein’ tha first piece ta be gi’en’ thanks ta tha Lady fer tha food. An offerin’ o’ sorts,” she said with a shrug.
“Ah. To the Kami. Yes, I see.”
“Be loosin’ me stomach fer it an’ dinnae be wantin’ ta jest be thowin’ it away. Gi’en’ it ta tha fire be better,” Bhen Rudha finished with a shrug.
“Oh.” Sumire put her fork down and took a sip of wine. Finally she asked, “I am sorry . . . did I offend?”
The Red Woman shook her head slowly, as if answering the question for herself before giving it away, “Nae, I be . . . surprised ta be hearin’ tha name o’ Falkan tis all.”
Blinking, Sumire resisted the urge to turn and look at the other woman, or show any such reaction, and instead stared at her mug of wine. “You know of the merchant Lord Falkan?”
“Aye,” she answered simply, her voice quiet and distant. Bhen Rudha picked up her mug and took a long drink, nearly finishing it. Part of her now wished she had kept to her silence, it would have been better than the memories that came with that name. Perhaps she could steer the conversation away . . . she would have to see what the other woman said next.
Edited by: BhenRudha at: 10/28/03 12:17 am
phalon1
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(10/29/03 9:47 pm)
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The Story of Great Aunt Eurayle.
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Kaisa took a long sip from the mug of wine before she began to speak.
“Ah let’s see…Your Great Aunt Eurayle…Eurayle was my mother’s twin sister, but the two could not be more different. Mother was a practical and sensible woman – not to say she was cold and without humour, because that could not be farther from the truth. She was a good wife, and wonderful mother. She would have been a wonderful grandmother too. I wish you could have known her. Oh, how she would have doted on you and Gelasius. We had such a warm house while I was growing up – the kind of place you couldn’t wait to come home to.”
Phalon smiled, thinking she knew exactly the kind of place of which her mother spoke.
“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that Mother was grounded, a woman content in her home, surrounded by family, and not much caring to roam far beyond those boundaries. Eurayle was different, even when they were children. My grandmother would tell them not to stray far from home while playing, and mother would often be left to come home alone, Eurayle off somewhere on one of her fanciful adventures, or talking to nature. She used to tell mother that all living things spoke, if you listened hard enough. The trees of the forests, grasses and flowers of the meadow, waters of the stream, and beasts living within these realms, all had tales to tell. ‘Listen’, she’d tell mother. ‘Don’t you hear the brook singing to the willow bending over it. Drink of me, it says. I will help you to stretch your roots strong and deep, so that you may, it turn, provide shade and shelter to our fellow creatures living in my waters, and in high in your canopy. We have a partnership, you and I, and must care for those that depend on us’. Mother listened, but never quite heard the same things Eurayle did. But Mother adored Eurayle – everyone did - her vivaciousness, her zest for life, the way she never seemed to touch the ground when she moved, instead floating above it. Mother described her during these times, as a bee flitting from flower to flower, drinking in all of life’s nectar.”
“Something happened though, while they were in their fifteenth year, that changed Eurayle. A little girl from the village had wandered away from her mother at the market one day. The girl’s mother had searched everywhere in the village, but her daughter was still missing. Word spread through town, and soon everyone joined in the search. They checked the buildings, the wells, and the stables – everywhere a child might hide. The meadow and the forest were combed. The search produced nothing, and the sun was beginning to sink low in the horizon. Finally Eurayle spoke, and asked to see the girl’s cloak. As she held it, she told of a frightened girl hugging a scraggly mongrel, surrounded by loud men. They seemed to be standing on a wharf, with tall masts behind them. People were skeptical of Eurayle’s tale, but she was adamant in her claims that this would be where they’d find the girl. Not knowing where else to look, or what else to do, the girl’s father and some of the men from the village raced off on their horses for the seaside village hours away. It was not until late into the night that they returned, with a sleeping, but unharmed little girl in her father’s arms. It seemed the girl had been playing with the mongrel while her mother shopped in the market, followed the dog when it jumped up into it’s owner’s wagon, and fell asleep next to it. The merchant, finished with peddling his wares at the market, returned to port, meaning to catch the next departing ship to replenish his dwindling supply of goods. When the men from the village arrived at the wharf, they found a very distraught little girl and a more distraught merchant and sailors who were not able to make heads or tales out of the girl’s story through her sobs.”
“All turned out alright, and I’m sure the merchant would have soon figured out what had happened on his own, but Eurayle was thought of as a heroine and it became known in the village that she could “see” things. Soon villagers began coming to the house wanting Euryale to give them a glimpse into their futures. Farmers wanting to know if their crops would flourish, maids in love, begging to know if their current beaus were the one they would marry, and young men, wanting to know if their loves would accept their proposals. All kinds of questions, and the more Euryale used this sight, the stronger it became. She would lie in bed next to mother at night, and cry herself to sleep. Yes, she confided to mother, the farmer’s crop would flourish, but he’d lose it all in a barn fire. Yes, she’d sob, the maid would marry, but her new husband would beat her, and yes, the young man’s proposal would be accepted, but his young, pretty wife would die in childbirth. She could not bring herself to tell these people the horrible things she envisioned, and soon she became an empty shell of what she was, her former energy for life seeming to seep out of her, a bit more with every vision she saw.”
Phalon rose and walked to the window. She opened the shutters to let in the cool night air. The rain had ceased while they were talking and the moonlight glowed bright in puddles left on the street.
She could imagine exactly how Euryale must have felt. Although she told no one of her visions when she first started having them, the barrage of images flooding her mind as she walked through the crowded market place, or flashes into people’s lives as they hugged and tried to console her after what the Romans had done, was too much to bear. That, coupled with the death of the one she loved, and delivering the retribution she so craved was what sent her into her period of madness from which she never thought she’d emerge.
“Phalon? Are you alright, dear?” Kaisa had crossed the room and stood next to her daughter.
Phalon turned to her mother, and smiled. “Yes, Mom. I just got a bit warm sitting next to the fire and drinking the wine.”
Together, they stood at the window looking out into the now peaceful night, each lost in her own thoughts for a moment – Phalon thinking about her past, and her mother, wondering about her daughter’s future. They watched Zena and Vassaly come into view, and part, Vassaly headed to the Inn, and Zena quietly entering the house. Both women breathed a sigh of relief at their safe return.
“More wine?” her mother asked, raising the nearly empty bottle.
“Sure, why not?” Phalon replied. “Come, let’s sit again. Continue your story, Mom. Finish telling me about Eurayle.”
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:25:50 GMT -6
Zena 1
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(10/30/03 7:36 pm)
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Late Night With Phalon And Kaisa
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She placed her hand against the cool stone archway and hesitated. The fire was blazing in the kitchen hearth and Zena took a good deep breath of the oregano and parsley that wafted through the air from the drying pegs just above the fire. It smelled so good, so simple and fresh. This world was so different from the one which crouched like a starving lion just outside the town, waiting to swallow them whole. Somehow she had to explain to Kaisa and her family that their kindness was a danger to them now. No one would move tonight at least, the heavy storm would have made mud pits of the dirt roads making it impossible to move the wagons and chariots that came with the army. A benefit of being taxed into oblivion, the paved Roman road, had not yet reached this insignificant place. “Tomorrow I will call a war council. By then I will have a plan,” she hoped. Her eyes slid over the two forms in the firelight. “I wonder if Phalon knows that she has her mother’s gestures. In this light they look so much alike. Family. That is what it is like to have blood family. You see yourself in them.” Gabby stirred in the room behind her and Zena felt the warmth of her feelings for the girl fill her. She thought of Evergreen and tears welled up and threatened to pour over her lids. “Family by choice, not by blood, is still family.” As she lingered at the entrance to the kitchen she relived in her mind the better days when Evergreen was more settled and happy, before the Senator came. Then, from inside her reverie she heard one word, “Eurayle”. It snapped her back to the darkened room and she spoke before she intended in a response to the name.
“Eurayle...."
Phalon and Kaisa looked toward the arch in the same inquisitive way. “Zena? We saw you come in.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was looking for the warmth of the fire..and I heard you say Eurayle. That name has significance to me, although I’m sure it can’t be the same person. Don’t let me disturb your conversation, I’ll see you in the morning.”
She turned to go back to the sleeping quarters, unaware that part of her heart was drifting down the street from the Inn.
EvergreenLM
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(10/31/03 12:09 am)
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Silent Witness
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She took the stairs leading away from the Inn, and Vassaly, two by two with her mind focused on the duality of thoughts. Loyalties, duty, reason, abiding faith and trust…collided with the direction and calling of the heart. Go there-come here…turn around- go forward…look ahead-never look back. She was swimming in deep emotional water and finding it difficult to see where the banks of the shore lie.
A slippery step…a minor loss of balance… a slight misjudgment and the fates cast out their hand. She went down on her knees, and in that instant he took the advantage he had hoped for waiting in the dark. Her hands went up, but too late as her fingers dug into the cord that garroted her neck. She violently kicked out her attacker, but the slippery ground had joined as conspirator in her taking.
Breath…ah…gasp…fight…keep the fingers under the binding around my neck…its cuts off my voice…no one will hear…
And before the darkness set in as the last light of the day fades with the setting sun, she looked up into the eyes of her captor. Raspy…choking…one incredulous thought… Apollinarius…one forced word of surprised betrayal…why? As she began to slip into unconsciousness, the grip was loosened returning her senses to her. He wanted her to know...know that it was him...that he was in control.
And in the ensuing struggle it flew from her finger as he pulled her back into the shadows before pushing her face down in the saturated ground, kneeing her in the back while keeping the cord taunt under the heel of his boot. With his hands now free, he quickly bound her wrist.
When finished, he lifted her by the leather belt surrounding her waist, pushed her towards her horse now nervously pawing the ground sensing danger. When she refused to step into the saddle, he leaned in with his lips against her ear whispering a message causing her knees to go weak. She could feel his hot breath accompanying his words.
“Do… as… I… say or I will go upstairs and send her to the Elysian Fields telling her it was at your directive. Now… get… on… the… horse”
Looking up towards the Inn and back at her betrayer, she nodded, yes. And as he held her arms, she stepped her toe into the stirrup, swung her leg up and over seating herself as he took the reins leading her to where the black stallion waited.
And as they blended into the night, a small intertwined band of silver and gold shaped as a delicate vine lay waiting on the ground… a silent witness waiting for discovery.
"We're stuff of the soul, Gabrielle."
gabbyfan4ever
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(11/5/03 6:25 pm)
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As Gabby lay in bed she wondered idly if her legs would ever look the same again after they were healed. They felt heavier today, the girl thought grimly. Of course, she had no one to blame but herself for that. If she had only been more patient she would not have tried to stand up on her own in what was obviously not enough time for such a drastic step. She only hoped she had not set back her healing by much. Perhaps she should tell Phalon about what she had tried to do, and she might be able to get an honest answer as to how much longer she will be bedridden in the process. Gabby wondered if Red would have to hold inside what should have been her pain until she was fully healed. She prayed this was not so. The pain she had felt before Red interceded was unbearable, and she could not imagine holding it inside for this long. The fact that she had was nothing short of amazing. The coming and going of new faces into the household did not touch Gabby. The events of the people outside of her bed were not for her anymore, and they merely slid along the outside of the invisible walls she had unconsciously created around herself. She let those people close to her in, but she could not contribute to anything that was going on around her and she therefore tried to block out any acknowledgment that it existed. The days melted together in the undistinguishable blur that happens when there is nothing to be done. Gabby did not even realize this process of becoming more and more withdrawn into herself was happening. Instead the girls mind wandered where ever it pleased, stopping only for the occasional conversation, and afterwards she was reluctantly forced to retreat back within herself. This was her life.
Zena 1
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(11/5/03 8:48 pm)
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Wine, Women and a Story
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“Wait, don’t go.” Kaisa whispered so that those who were sleeping would stay in their dreamscapes. Zena pivoted slowly on the ball of her foot and cocked her head to one side, as was her way when she was unsure of herself. Kaisa nodded and Phalon filled a wooden goblet with wine, holding it out to Zena. She crossed the room to the hearth gratefully accepting the goblet and the offer of company. As she passed the beautiful honey colored table, she ran her long fingers over the polished surface and wondered how it had appeared in the kitchen. The fire in the hearth was consuming the new log that Phalon had added and the dampness in Zena’s clothing began evaporate, along with her anxieties. Perhaps the wine helped. In the next room Gabby stirred again and as Zena slouched into a chair she realized that she had not checked on the girl in hours.
“Gabby has been in the house for such a long time, fresh air would be good for her. Tomorrow I will......no! Tomorrow we may have to leave.” She frowned and ran her hand through her damp curls.
“Drink your wine. You look like Atlas, carrying the world on your shoulders. Let it go for now, and Mom will tell us about Aunt Eurayle.” Zena sighed and sipped from the goblet, tasting the strong grape essence.
“Did you say the name was familiar?” Phalon leaned forward to whisper.
“Yes, but it was long ago that I knew someone by that name. In our training years. Please Kaisa, tell us the story.”
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:26:46 GMT -6
EvergreenLM
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(11/5/03 10:20 pm)
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Betrayed
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They traveled through what was left of a long night and as the gray dawn broke on the horizon, Apollinarius stopped near the lake outside of town. He surveyed the surrounding landscape with his vision fixing upon a small cave a short horse trot ahead of them. He had said very little to his captive nor she to him.
The why of it was never fully answered, but she knew that the power of control and misguided aspirations was as powerful as winter wine. She considered all her options and one was surely to kill him at the first opportunity. She also thought of Vassaly with her safety being at the forefront of any plan. Waiting…waiting…just for the right moment and she would extinguish his life light forever. Hades himself could consider the young man a gift…one she would gladly provide.
Zena…go see Zena and then return if you choose after speaking with her. As she rocked to and fro on the horse, the name Zena resounded in her thoughts. On one hand, it seemed so perfectly natural an inclination to go discuss something with Zena. But upon the other side, was a foggy recollection that produced nothing that she could latch on to that made any sense of the familiar name. Why should Vassaly send her, alone, to meet with the very ones she certainly would have had in chains by the following sunset. And why did she ask her such a perfidious question as to her very own name? And a name as such she had called out in so many ways as various notes from a lyre. Her waking reality was no longer making sense, and yet, neither dreams gave answers or peace. She was lost and drifted between two conflicting shores.
“Get off the horse!” He commanded as he grabbed the corner of her leathers and pulled her to the ground. The prominence of her left cheek bone began to bleed and added a crimson ribbon to the now purple hue that throbbed out her heartbeat.
She slowly moved to her knees and leaned against Whisperer unflinchingly standing to her side as she regained her balance and stood upright. He withdrew his baton from his belt and jabbed her between her now aching shoulder blades.
“Move ahead! In there.”
They entered the small opening with both hesitating, perhaps sensing at the same time that it had been recently occupied. The musty air was laced with the smoky scent of burned sycamore. A large ray of the morning sunlight dancing in and out of a clearing sky beamed down through an opening in the craggy ceiling giving illumination to the dank enclosure contained in the side of the natural rise in the landscape.
Again, he prodded with the baton, but this time she turned and snarled out at him uttering an oath and a promise that she would be by his side when he and his baton entered Tartarus. The outburst was met with the back of his hand, and although she reeled backwards, she did not fall. She soon found herself standing in the center of the cave with her bound hands lashed to the gate post of the small livestock pen. Sliding down to her knees, she allowed herself to sit back as she glared up at her captor.
“They will come searching for me you know that don’t you?” She said with a low, determined, and even tone.
Appolinarius laughed as he checked the bindings on her ankles. “Looking for you? You have been looking for yourself”…he rose up towering over her… “and I had already found you long ago…before we left the villa…before we set sail and you ever set a boot print upon this land. But, my consul, I want all of you… every one of your kind.”
She thought he surely was mad and speaking in riddles for which she had no time or reason to decipher. He turned and stopped in the opening with the now risen sun giving backlight to his ominous form.
“Don’t go anywhere…Evergreen.”
"We're stuff of the soul, Gabrielle."
Edited by: EvergreenLM at: 11/6/03 10:57 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:27:45 GMT -6
phalon1
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(11/5/03 11:22 pm)
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The Story of Great Aunt Eurayle, (cont.)
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“Eurayle....”, Zena exclaimed from the doorway.
Phalon and Kaisa looked toward the arch in the same inquisitive way. “Zena? We saw you come in.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was looking for the warmth of the fire..and I heard you say Eurayle. That name has significance to me, although I’m sure it can’t be the same person. Don’t let me disturb your conversation, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh no, dear. Come. Sit by the fire and share some wine with us. You look chilled to the bone. Phalon, get Zena a mug and fill it with wine.”
“Uhm, Mom?” Phalon held the wine bottle up, and turned it upside down. Not so much as a single drop dripped onto the floor.
“We didn’t!” Kaisa exclaimed, looking at the empty bottle. “A whole bottle? Are you sure? Ah, well. Here, let me get another.”
She handed Phalon another bottle and a mug for Zena, and started bustling around the kitchen. Phalon turned to Zena to fill her mug, and seeing her brow furrowed, wanted to ask her what came out of the time she spent with Vassaly. She knew Zena well enough to know that the expression on her face meant she was mulling over some turmoil within her mind. A murmur from one sleeping in the next room prompted Zena to say, more to herself than to Phalon or Kaisa, “Gabby has been in the house for such a long time, fresh air would be good for her. Tomorrow I will......no! Tomorrow we may have to leave.”
Phalon was puzzled. Leave tomorrow? Why, she wondered. Gabby was not ready to travel yet, nor was BlackWolf. Not wanting to question her here, in front of Kaisa, though, lest something were terribly wrong, and not wanting her mother to worry, instead she said, “Drink your wine. You look like Atlas, carrying the world on your shoulders. Let it go for now, and Mom will tell us about Aunt Eurayle. Did you say the name was familiar to you?”
“Yes, but it was long ago that I knew someone by that name. In our training years. But I’m sure it’s not the same woman”, Zena repeated. "The Euryale I knew was a woman from my childhood. A nomad who came wandering through our village one day and ended up staying for quite some time. She shared her knowledge of plants with the Amazons, and we, our knowledge of the hunt with her. It was a vast knowledge she had, both of magical powers and healing remedies of the various plants found in the forest where we lived. Being a young girl, I remember her as an odd woman – kind of scary – who often spoke in riddles.”
“Oh, it’s entirely possible that was Aunt Euryale”, Kaisa replied, chuckling. “Aunt Eurayle was a character, that’s for sure.” She returned to the hearth with a tray filled with plates of food, entirely too much for the three of them to consume this late at night. A small feast really. There was a plate of bread and oil for dipping, a bowl of fruit – grapes, figs, and apples, sliced and sprinkled with cinnamon, (an advantage of owning a general goods shop was that the family was always able to indulge in some exotic thing imported from other lands. Cinnamon was one of these, and one Kaisa especially enjoyed). Another plate was piled high with thick slices of creamy cheese and smoked meat.
Phalon poured more wine, and Kaisa offered the tray to each of them. Phalon took a large slab of cheese and chunk of bread, thinking she’d regret it later, when she’d probably awake with nightmares from having eaten the rich cheese so late at night, something that often occurred when she ate well after the moon settled in the night’s sky. When they all had full mugs and partook of the offerings on the tray, Kaisa set the tray and bottle on the hearth and settled back in her chair to finish her story.
“Aunt Eurayle became a wanderer. It was not long after the incident with the lost girl, that Euryale left home. She stayed for a couple more years, until Mother was married, and once she was, Eurayle told Mother that she’d made a fine choice - that she was sure Mother would be happy in her new life, and then she left. She left the village she grew up in and all it’s people – people who she knew better than even they knew themselves. It all weighed heavily on her – the things she “saw”, and leaving was her escape. Mother often said that she was sure Eurayle stayed only long enough to make sure her sister would be secure and assure herself of Mother’s future happiness. Having done so, there was no reason for Eurayle to stay.
Traveling suited her well. It rekindled the fire that was once within her. She returned quite frequently in the beginning, and always on the day commemorating the birth of she and her sister. She would breeze into the village – and that’s what she was like – a cool, refreshing breeze on a steamy hot day – for the celebration of their birthday, bringing with her tales of lands faraway, and the people that inhabited them.” Kaisa turned to the dark haired woman sitting next to her. “I know she spent time with the Amazons, Zena. As I said earlier, it’s not impossible that Aunt Eurayle was the woman you knew as a child.” As Zena mused this over, perhaps remembering the days of childhood, Kaisa continued.
“Oh, what stories she had to tell. Tales from the East, where I believe Sumire to be from. Stories from barren lands filled with nothing but sand, tales from thick jungles filled with strange animals and people, and dark tales from the lands of Norseman. But the best, my favorite as a child, where the tales from a northern group of islands she called Eire, Sasann, and Albin. She loved these lands, and loved their people – and they her. She spent a great deal of time there – so much so that they gave her a name in their native tongue…What was it? Eas…Eis? Hmmm…I can’t seem to remember.”
“Aislin Saorla”, Phalon quietly said. “Queen of Dreams.”
“Yes! That’s it. How did you know, Phalon?”
To admit to her mother that she knew her – that Aunt Eurayle was a woman she knew as Aislin Saorla, meant that she had to explain to her mother how she knew her, and that meant divulging her visions, her madness, and that Aislin Saorla was the gypsy that pulled her out of it all, and that was something Phalon would like to keep from her mother for now – or forever. Instead she offered, “I must have heard tales of her during my travels one time or another.”
“Ah, yes. She traveled everywhere it seemed there was to travel, roaming the land and staying for a time with the people she met along the way. Unfortunately with time, and especially after Mother died, her visits became fewer and farther between. She did return right before you were born, Phalon. Actually, she helped bring you into this world. As she held you, your tiny red face breathing the air for the first time, she exclaimed, ‘This child shall be called Phalon.’ It was a name, she explained to me, that was from Eire and meant, to rule, to be in charge. She wanted to be sure I’d tell you that, when you were old enough, that it would be important to you.” Kaisa caught her breath for a moment, then giggled, perhaps the effect of too much wine. “I never did, did I? Always afraid you’d take it to mean you were in charge of this household and try to get away with causing all kinds of chaos, you and your brother.” She glanced sideways at the grown woman next to her. “Well, I suppose you are old enough now.” She giggled again. Phalon smiled and thought that the conversation would soon be coming to a close if Kaisa continued downing the wine for much longer.
“It was a long time after that, before she returned. Many years passed, and it was right after you’d left, Phalon, that she came home again. She couldn’t stay long then – said she had someone elsewhere that needed her immediate help, but knowing how distraught and lost I was that you’d left, she assured me vehemently that she knew that you’d return home again someday. I held onto this hope throughout the years – the fact that she said she knew – and was not just trying to patronize a mother’s grief – that I’d see my daughter again.
I saw her twice more, after that, until the last time she returned. By then she was a very old woman, and she’d come home to die. It was then, that she gave me the ring Phalon, and made me promise that one day, when at last I saw you, I'd give it to you and to make sure you knew it was from her. An odd thing, but it was her dying wish – the last thing she uttered in this world.”
Kaisa sighed. “She was an extraordinary woman, Phalon, and I wish you could have known her.” She looked into her nearly empty mug, and raised her glass. “To Eurayle”, she said.
Zena and Phalon followed suit, raising their mugs. “To Eurayle”, they chimed. Phalon took the ring she’d been twisting around her thumb and playing with the entire time her mother told her tale, and slipped it on her middle finger. It fit perfectly. Looking at the twisted knots of silver, she said in a low tone, under her breath, “Everything is connected….somehow.”
Edited by: phalon1 at: 11/6/03 5:18 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:28:26 GMT -6
Vassaly
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(11/9/03 7:34 am)
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Dream Your Dream of Me
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The door was closed, locked, and for a few moments Vassaly stood with the palm of her hand flattened against the rough planks. She toyed with the thought that she would open it, and call out to footsteps quickly disappearing into the night. But she did not.
I’m going to need some help to hold my ground…
Quietly, with but her voice sounding upon the emptiness in her room, and in her heart, she leaned her forehead on the physical separateness and softly whispered, “Please come back…”
Can you hear me now…can you hear me now…
Shadows created by the warm firelight danced like two lovers on the walls surrounding her solitude. She picked up the commonly formed cup, poured crimson liquid to the brim. Moving to the small chair by the fireside, she sat staring into the flames. Logs ebb and glowed as they burned away, crackling, shifting in position as they gave warmth to her physical body, but not the core of her being.
Oh, the stories I could tell…we make our own heaven, our own hell…trying to get to the other side…
The wine coursed through her blood and in a short time, coated her thoughts like a soft blanket. She sighed deeply, stood up and tossed the last droplets of her liquid serenity into the flames which drank it in with loud pops. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced at the empty bed.
I’m sinking like a stone in the coldest solitude I’ve known…
She walked the short distance, pulled back the linens, and climbed into the cool sheets. She turned on her side, clutched the pillow, her blonde hair flowed out onto the soft bedding as she shivered and drew up her long legs. Her thoughts, mixed with the spiced wine, began to trickle as an ambling brook. Since her return, she had heard the talk, the vinegar tasting gossip of a village. Whispers, side glances, nothing more than polite exchanges to her when before would have been a lingering embrace, a kiss to the cheek. But now, since she had left, with her, the greetings had grown as cold as the soon dying fire in the room.
We make our own choices, we pay our own prices…
And as the wine now called her gray eyes to sleep, she pulled the linens up tight against her throat drinking in the remaining scent of leather, of the loamy earth, of her energy, that lingered in the air. Daylight would soon bring her back to her waking reality. But for now, her breath slowed as she inhaled and exhaled entering into her dreamscape unaware of the play unfolding in the night outside her window.
In my imagination, you are my dear companion, and I am the one you come to, and your voice still calls my name… I am the sound of the bells that you follow… and when you are lost out in the desert, when your fire a dying an ember, the last light you remember is the light I shared with you…and when I dream, I will dream my dream of you.
Edited by: Vassaly at: 11/9/03 8:35 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:36:52 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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(11/9/03 5:50 pm)
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Red Gold, Black Silk
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The answer was too quiet. Slowly Sumire turned to study the Red Woman, and upon seeing the other’s reaction, was now unsure of how to proceed. Picking up the fork, she turned it in her hand while she tried to think of something neutral to say.
“Dinnae be lettin’ yer dinner be gettin’ cold,” Bhen Rudha said softly. She frowned and sighed, trying to throw off the shadow that had settled over their chat by the fire.
Caught staring, Sumire frowned at herself and did as she was told, taking a bite and chewing while trying to puzzle through what she had said to offend the other woman. “Did you know him well?” she finally ventured carefully, not sure if Ven Rua knew that Falkan was dead.
“Be knowin’ him well enough, I be guessin’. Dinnae be ha’in’ much o’ a choice,” she said, her brows drawn together in a frown.
Taking a sip to wash down the fish that now wanted to stick in her throat, the Jappa woman felt the mood and tension of the topic thicken. She started to put the mug down, then decided to take another drink hearing the Red Woman’s last comment. “I . . . well . . .” she picked at her food while she thought. “He was the one who brought me from Jappa.”
“Aye,” Bhen Rudha murmured, swirling the last of the wine in her mug. Her jaw tightened, and it seemed she concentrated all her will for a long moment, till she took a deep breath and knocked back the last of her wine. “Ye be sold ta him?” she asked, setting the mug back on the table.
Blinking, Sumire turned at the question. She put her fork down and sat up straighter. Though she wanted to deny it outright, she knew she could not, “For as much as I would have wished my position was otherwise . . . he treated me well.”
Her smile was bitter when she nodded, saying, “Oh . . . aye . . . he be a gentle enough sort. Anaroad, ye be free nae, be wha’ counts, aye?” Without waiting for an answer, she got up to pour herself another mug of wine, lifting the jug to offer more to her companion.
Hearing and seeing the bitterness in the other woman’s face bothered Sumire. She could not understand why she was so defensive suddenly. Certainly this woman had her reasons . . . still musing on it, she took another drink. Then held up her mug to be refilled. As she watched the liquid rise in the mug, she said, “Yes, I can be counted as free. He was killed in the attack on the caravan.” She looked up to watch the Red Woman for her reaction, and tried to remember if Falkan had mentioned any of his other women. Sumire had been the only one he kept during her time with him. With her mug finally full, she lifted it, murmuring, “Arigatou.”
“Tá fáilte romhat,” Bhen Rudha answered. She moved to the fire and with a small piece of wood, turned over the burning log, exposing the coals and releasing a wave of warmth into the room. Thoughts of Falkan forced themselves to be noticed. It was still hard to hate the man . . . he had always been kind . . . gentle. Quite the contrast from her usual fare. Absently she stacked a couple more logs on the fire and regained her seat.
Sumire continued in her thoughts about Falkan: Although they had had brief visits with other women. They had never stayed. And then there were those times he visited friends who had their own . . . Her eyes went from studying the mug in front of her to the woman who sat across from her. . . . red hair . . . “free now and that’s what counts” . . . Red Gold.
Bhen Rudha sipped then turned her attention squarely to the Jappa woman. “I thin’ ye be lucky,” she said with a humorless grin, “tha’ ye be in tha keep o’ the likes o’ Falkan, instead o’ someone else.” When her words were done, she grunted softly, pressing the heel of her hand to her heart, forcing her breath to remain steady. After a moment, she let her hand fall and took a deep drink from her mug.
Intending to take a long drink, Sumire stopped short and put the mug down suddenly, turning away from the woman with the thick accent when it all came together. Ven Rua’s words and her memory. That man . . . his smell, his coarseness, his words. A game of rich men to trade their possessions. Sumire had refused to talk to Falkan for days after they had left That man’s place. Unbidden, the words left her lips in a whisper, “Black Silk . . .”
“Aye?” she asked, her eyes a little glassy.
“That man. That Roman. It was what he called me . . . Black Silk. He compared me to his Treasure . . . his Red Gold,” she said as calmly as she could before draining her mug.
Her amber-green eyes widened, and she clutched her mug in a vise-like grip. Memory surged . . . his voice in her ear, thick with wine, “She was sweet, with hair black as night and as soft as silk.” He twisted a fist in her long hair and continued, “It’s too bad they couldn’t stay. I would have liked to have seen you side by side, to have woven your hair together . . . Black Silk and Red Gold . . . “
Bhen Rudha whispered the name in Latin, “Serica Nox Noctis,” then shuddered and shoved the memory away forcefully, desperately reminding herself that she was free and he was dead. She touched the torc around her neck with one hand, and held out the other, the one with the scar running across the palm. “Dinnae be a’feared o’ him anamore. His time this side o’ tha Wheel be o’er.”
Hearing the Latin, Sumire sighed and closed her eyes. When she figured that Ven Rua meant to say that he was dead, she turned enough to look squarely at the other woman, noticing her strained expression. And how had the conversation come to this? If she didn't know any better she would blame it on the wine, yet, the geisha of Kageyama were trained in maintaining their grace and composure in nearly all situations, which included a night of drinking and conversation with their guests. She could easily match a general in a night of drinking, sip for sip, cask for cask. Now something she would speak only to her sister geisha at the Okiya was coming unrestrained to a veritable stranger. It was as if for this moment, Ven Rua fulfilled the role of one of her house sisters. And then again, letting such secrets slip past didn't seem to be such a worrisome thing, as soon she wouldn't be around to account for them . . .
“We are free now . . . and that is what counts . . . ne?” she said, with a tired and humorless smile.
“Free . . . aye.”
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:37:49 GMT -6
phalon1
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(11/13/03 1:15 am)
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Finders, Keepers
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Phalon’s head buzzed from too much wine. She lay down on the cot and closed her eyes, wishing the room would stop spinning. It didn’t stop, but instead, gained momentum. To her, it felt as if her body were floating and twirling out of control, and with each turn, a new unanswered question revolving around her Great Aunt Eurayle swirled in her mind.
If Eurayle and Aislin Saorla were the same woman - and Phalon was sure she was - why didn’t she tell Phalon, in all the time they spent together, that she was her great aunt? Surely Eurayle would have known, being a seeress, that the girl she found teetering on the brink of insanity, was her great niece. Why didn’t she take her home to her family? Was it because Phalon had gone mad, and Euryale wanted to spare her parents the grief of seeing their daughter that way? But, afterwards – after she’d been pulled back from the precipice and re-entered life, why didn’t Eurayle tell her then? It just didn’t make sense. So many questions that needed answers. But Eurayle was dead, and Phalon supposed she’d never uncover the truth.
“Phalon? Phaalooon?” She heard a familiar voice, speaking to her over the din of the buzzing in her head. Saorla, hearing her questions, had come back to her from the Elysian Fields.
“Phalon, can you hear me? I’ve got something important I need to tell you.”
“Yes, Saorla, I can hear you.”
“Phalon!” Oh wait…the voice was not in her head, but was coming from someone standing over her, next to her cot. She slowly opened her eyes, trying to focus on the silhouette in front of her in the dark room. “I’ve found her, Phalon. I’ve found Evergreen.”
“Hmmmmm….Zena? Huh?” The effects of the wine were making it impossible for Phalon to focus.
“Though, I think I may have already lost her”, Zena hesitantly continued. “And she’s lost herself.”
Zena’s statements were met with silence, and she might as well been talking to herself for all the attentiveness of her audience. The wine had done her in, and Phalon drifted off, breaking the silence with soft snoring. True to her predictions, her dreams were not pleasant.
* * * * *
The sun was well past the horizon when she woke from her uneasy slumber, it’s brightness hitting her like a slap in the face the next morning. She threw her arm across her face to shield her eyes from the light, and lay in bed still, not wanting to give up the warmth of the blankets, and pondered her dreams, trying to make sense of them.
In contrast, across town, a little boy, not wanting to miss out on one moment of the day’s adventure, had been up for hours. He skipped down the road, humming a tune to himself. Stopping, he patted the pocket of his trousers. Yes, it was still there. He reached in, and pulled out the greatest treasure he’d ever found, holding it up to his face, still amazed at his good luck. The sun glinted off the gold of the heavy object in his hand, and he once again returned it to his pocket for safe keeping. He returned to his skipping, singing now, instead of humming. “Finders, keepers. Losers, weepers.”
Zena 1
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(11/13/03 7:40 pm)
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Losers Weepers
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Fire is primal. It holds back the dark and the things that abide there. If there is a campfire or a hearth with a crackling fire, humans will be drawn to it. In the safe ring of warmth and light, stories will spill out and those who try to take their leave to bed will be held by their companions for the sake of the telling..and the security of the company. At the fire we are all one tribe, the human family clinging to it’s members for a sense of belonging and balance in a universe of unknown and uncontrollable forces.
In the cup of wine Zena saw her own face shimmering in the liquid. She turned the vessal to coat the sides and watched the face distort until she was unsure that it was her reflection. Kaisa’s story of Eurayle knocked at the door of her memory and she was certain that with less wine she could have called the story out. Another time perhaps. As she turned the cup the heavy gold ring she wore clicked against the wood and she flicked it back into place as she had done a thousand times with her thumb and smallest finger. The image of ripe grapes with the word Gaeus intertwined through the leaves shone in the firelight. “ For you…so you will never die…like I promised.” The voice of the child Evergreen making the pledge was as clear in her ears as it had been that day on the rock. Suddenly she was consumed with an ache to see her lost sister again, to throw her arms around her and hear her wisdom. Phalon had drifted to her cot but Zena wanted to tell someone what she knew.
“Phalon, can you hear me? I’ve got something important I need to tell you.”
“Yes, Saorla, I can hear you.”
“Phalon!”
“Hmmmmm….Zena? Huh?” The effects of the wine were making it impossible for Phalon to focus.
“I’ve found her, Phalon. I’ve found Evergreen, though, I think I may have already lost her”, Zena hesitantly continued. “And she’s lost herself.”
Talking to Phalon was an excercise in futility and Kaisa had dropped off to sleep in her chair at the fire. For a moment Zena stood in the center of the kitchen and looked around, trying to decide what course to set. “For you....” She set the cup down hard on the honey colored table, eliciting a grunt from the lightly snoring Kaisa. Buckling her sword and chakram into place as she moved, she stopped briefly to leave a bit of parchment with a message on the table and then she headed for the stable.
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
Edited by: Zena 1 at: 11/14/03 11:23 am
EvergreenLM
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(11/13/03 10:16 pm)
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POSTED
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The cave was not large at all. Just a scoop out of the side of a rolling hillside by unseen hand, a god perhaps in an aborted attempt to resurrect a lost temple, but more likely the result of the natural positioning and shifting of the earth in the first days.
The small pen was functional, but surely could hold little more than a few spring lambs with their dams. A water trough sat at one end alongside moldy straw strewn about giving the air a gamy scent. And here she sat contemplating just what to do with both hands tethered to the smooth round post that held her captive. She tugged with great force on the bindings as if she could simply break them free from that which involuntarily joined her to the cave.
“AHHH…AHHH…send it all to Hades…AHHH…AHHH.”
The roped held firm and it matter not that she stood and pulled upward, or sat on the moldy earth leaning back with all her strength in an effort to be free from that which bound her. She shouted out and heard only her echo in reply followed by small stones rattling down the craggy walls.
In futility, she relaxed and worked her legs straight out in front of her allowing herself to lean back on the opposite post. Her thoughts wandered into the greater picture. Smiling, she thought of Vassaly and how she would make some wry comment on her current predicament.
And as she thought of the situation as presented, her vision went red and the anger at the young Apollinarius rose like bile in her mouth. She would strip him of his Legionnaire’s clothing and stake him out like the common man he was.
Knowing that such focus would cloud her mind and not be of any true help at the moment, she shifted her thoughts to the provincial village. She wondered who was providing sanctuary to the band women she had sailed a sea to find. And more so, she delved deeply in Vassaly’s directive to seek out their leader.
Why?... Why? And for what purpose did the young walking dead man call me by the name of the one I seek?
And so she sat. Her stomach rumbled signaling its demand to be fed as she licked her dry lips listening to the drip…drip…drip of water seeping through the slimy rock walls.
“AHHH…AHHH!”
Once again she jerked on the bindings, but instantly stopped midway noticing for the first time that her finger was bare…it was gone…her ring was no longer there for the turning…for the remembering. Her wrists were now red, raw and a small trickle of crimson trailed down her forearms. And she wondered how it all came to be this way…
"We're stuff of the soul Gabrielle."
Edited by: EvergreenLM at: 11/13/03 10:20 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 3, 2004 21:38:58 GMT -6
Zena 1
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(11/14/03 1:04 pm)
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So Near And Yet So Far
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The dawn was edging out the night as Zena strode down the street to the stable. She pulled back the heavy wooden door by it’s leather handle and slid in between door and jamb. Demetrius the stable hand was still in the back with his family, she could smell the morning meal as it cooked. Ergo turned her head and whinied at the sound of her mistress.
“Ah girl, I missed you too. Let’s go, let’s run eh?” She stroked the silky side and slipped the saddle on Ergo’s back. When they were ready she led her slowly to the door and then out into the street where the sun was beginning to burn away the dampness. Just as she placed a foot in the stirrup a small familiar voice called her name.
“Zee! Wait! I have something to show you, and it’s mine!”
“Apollo! Why are you out so early. Go home for breakfast!”
“Awwwwww. Where you goin’?” His eyes narrowed at the sight of the weapons on her side and back.
“I have something to do.”
“Can I come?”
“Not this time. Go home and tell your grandmother I will be back before noon.”
“Why can’t I go with you?”
“APOLLO!”
“ok....ok” He turned to go and Zena regretted her impatient tone with the boy.
“Apollo. I’m sorry. Next time I go I’ll let you ride Ergo with me.”
“Can I ride by myself?”
“Not yet. Later. OK?”
“Ok."
She swung up on Ergo’s back and waved goodbye, taking the road she had walked the night before with Vassaly. The road led to the sea and if the Romans had indeed come to this shore they would have disembarked at the end of this road. How far they had moved up was unknown and Zena hoped to creep up on the camp and gather some information as to the strength of the detachment and distance from the town before she formulated a plan. As they passed the pond and Jason the shepherd’s sheep pen, Ergo stopped and refused to move. She snuffed at the ground and pawed the earth. Zena slid off her back and bent down to look at the tracks. A lone horse, with two riders had left imprints in the rain soaked earth. “These weren’t here when we left” she thought. Moving low and with sword drawn she drew close to the cave. In the mud there were signs of a scuffle and as she leaned toward the opening there was movement inside.
“ZEE!"
Her body acted before her brain could engage and Apollo found himself looking cross-eyed at the point of her sword resting on his nose.
“By the quiver of Artemis, WHAT are you doing here?” she hissed at him.
“Shortcut.” He stammered backing up to avoid the sword.
“I TOLD you to stay back!”
“Can’t.” Zena knew that arguing with the boy was useless.
“Look, something is in there and I’m about to find out what. So stay here.”
“Wolves.”
“What?”
“Wolves.”
“They eat the sheep when Jason isn’t around."
Zena gave this some thought but she wasn’t sure the boy was right about what was moving in the cave: a battle with an angry wolf could be costly. And, time was passing and the Romans would be on the move again.
“I know I’ll live to regret this, but you can come if you promise to be quiet."
His smile was like the sun but he quickly controlled himself and whispered, “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse."
She raised an eyebrow and they both remembered the chaos mice had just caused. He looked down at his bare feet. Zena swept him up under her left arm while sheathing her sword and they mounted Ergo. “We’ll leave the wolves to their nap. But I swear Apollo, if you say one word...."
They galloped off toward the sea.
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
EvergreenLM
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Posts: 371
(11/15/03 8:12 pm)
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Goin' Nowhere
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Weariness overtook her and she allowed her mind to be emptied, to be free from thoughts that she so desperately tried to gain some semblance of reason.
The air in the cave was thick and dank making her fight dark brown eyes that tried to close and surrender to a tired body. With her arms still securely bound to the gatepost, she was beginning to feel closed in… buried…
Breathe…slowly…that’s it… in and out…breathe…focus…do not sleep…breathe.
"Fifteen casks of wine on the wall…fifteen casks on the wall…drink one down…make room for a new round…fourteen casks of wine on the wall…"
It was of no use. Heavy eyelids won the game and soon she slept.
Noises…sound of voices… I wish to remain in my place next to you…stay…don’t go…don’t wake me…voices… two?... a child?
She fought to return to the waking world through a jumbled confusion of dream sights, sounds, and reality calling her from the place she laid in peaceful solitude with another.
A horse neighing…heavy boot steps…soft short strides…voices…a Shepard boy?...voices… conversation…what about sleeping wolves?...Zena?”
"We're stuff of the soul Gabrielle."
Edited by: EvergreenLM at: 11/15/03 8:38 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:12:14 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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(11/17/03 3:30 am)
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Culture Shock
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Bhen Rudha did not think to share so much with this stranger, and yet, it seemed they were kinswomen of a sort. Part of her wished it were not so, as she could not want anyone in the clutches of that man, and yet . . . she was no longer completely alone. There was someone else who truly understood. Another shudder passed through her frame, and she sighed, tired of the shadow on their conversation for tonight. So she lifted her eyes to Sumire and tried to smile. “Dae ye be wantin’ more dinner?”
The woman from Jappa looked to her plate and frowned. As hungry as she had been, her mouth tasted of ash and her appetite was gone. She lifted her gaze to Ven Rua and said, “I am very sorry. You are upset . . . I did not mean to bring such memories.”
“Dinnae be yer fault. Bein’ verra close anaway. Ye canne be leavin’ four years behind sae easily,” she replied, shaking her head.
Looking sharply at the Red Woman, Sumire wondered what the other might know. Then realized that the words were simple, as were their meaning. “No. You cannot.” It was, after all, only true. Thinking it would be rude to leave her food mostly untouched, she took a piece of bread, tore a small bit, and put in her mouth, to see if it would rekindle her appetite. Swallowing the last bit she sighed, realizing that she would not eat any more this night. Instead she reached for the wine jar, holding it out to her companion.
Bhen Rudha looked into her mug, then shook her head. “Nae, I dinnae thin’ I cen be takin’ much more tanigh’ than be left in me mug . . . thankee though.”
“It is well, Ven Rua-san.” As the Red Woman declined the wine, Sumire lowered the jar without pouring herself any. The custom of serving declared that if you offered more food or drink to someone and it was refused, then you could not partake. If Ven Rua was done drinking then it meant that so was she. She sat back. After letting a moment pass she hissed half a word to herself and leaned forward to pour herself another cup. If it offended she’d ask Ven Rua’s forgiveness later. Later.
Giving Sumire a small smile, she got up to shift the hearthfire, sending a flutter of sparks up the chimney. She stood there a moment, taking a sip of wine. Finally she turned to the Jappa woman and asked, “Be tellin’ me abou’ Duibhfaolchú . . . er . . . Blackwolf, aye? How dae she be gettin’ stabbed?”
Sipping slowly from her mug, Sumire considered idly what she might perform for her hosts as a way to show gratitude for their generosity. The question pulled her from her thoughts. “Ah. Oukami-san.” She nodded a moment, then sighed before continuing, “Oukam- eh, Blakwoof-san found me after the caravan attack. She was bringing me back here. A bandit set upon us. He . . . he meant to rob us, and wanted to . . . to . . .” her hand moved aimlessly to find the right word, when she could not she settled for, “to hurt me. Blakwoof-san defended me.” The Jappa woman frowned, the memory and idea still bothering her.
“An’ dae she kill him?”
“Yes. She . . . I thought for a long while, that she was a kami. When she fought, she fought as if her spirit was as quick and as powerful as a kami. But I do not know now.”
Nodding in satisfaction at Blackwolf’s actions, Bhen Rudha asked, “Kami be a . . . spirit, aye?”
Sumire nodded once, “Like to say . . . gods . . . but in everything.”
“Then ye dinnae be sae wrong abou’ Blackwolf.”
“Are you saying, Blakwoof-san is kami after all?” she asked, tilting her head.
The Red Woman leaned back in her chair, mug cradled in her hands. She thought a moment, then tried to answer, “I dinnae be thinkin’ she be a goddess. Nae. She be . . . ehh . . . twinned?” She tiled her head, wondering if that was the right word. “Bein’ . . . joined, ta a wolf spirit. Be nae one o’ tha other, she be sommat o’ both. Anaroad, dinnae be a’feared fer her. She be wakin’ soon I be thinkin’,” she said, unconsciously rolling her shoulder as she did.
Nodding, first to consider what was said through the thick accent, and next to agree, “Ah. So desu ka,” she mumbled to herself. “An amazing thing, ne?” she asked, then glanced furtively at the Red Woman and the others around the room, wondering if it was indeed as wondrous a thing to them as it was to her. Then she heard the words wake up soon. “Honto- Eh . . . really? Do you think so?”
“Aye, she be an amazin’ woman,” Bhen Rudha replied, then she sighed softly. “Be thinkin’ anaone findin’ the group be amazin’ in some way o’ another. An’ aye, I dae thin’ sae. Duibhfaolchú be strong o’ body an’ spirit.”
“I am glad to think so. She is kind and courageous. There is much I owe her,” Sumire paused, considering the treatment she had received from the entire group, “owe everyone.”
Looking down in her mug a moment, the Red Woman drank the last of her wine. “Be chances ta be payin’ back happenin’ all tha time with this group.” She smiled wryly as she looked back up at her companion. “Dinnae thin’ too mana days cen be goin’ by withou’ some sort o’ savin’ someone.”
Sumire thought about Red’s words with a neutral expression at first. She knew her time with them was very short, and so her chances, as Red described them, probably would not come. Even so, a slow smile appeared and she nodded. “Perhaps . . . but not all have the same . . . ehtou . . . currency.” She frowned, thinking that made little sense, and went on to explain, “In Jappa, I entertain at the royal house of Kageyama. I am known as geisha, or geiko in my country.”
“Entertain? Dinnae be sure o’ wha’ ye mean.”
“I am a woman of the arts. Music is my craft. I sing, play instruments, dance. This would be my currency.”
Bhen Rudha tilted her head in thought, then nodded, “Aye . . . bein’ perhaps like tha bards o’ me homeland.”
“Bards. Mm . . . where is your homeland, Ven Rua-san?”
She looked out the window, considered, then pointed in a vague West direction. “I be from the isle o’ Eriu. Ta tha West o’ wha’ tha Romans call Britania.”
“Ah. West of Britania. Eriu . . . yes,” Sumire said, though she was not quite sure where it was the other woman was talking about.
Noticing this, the Red Woman made a face and said, “Bein’ Hybernia wha’ tha Romans be callin’ me home.”
“Ah. Yes. This name I have heard.”
“Dae ye be . . . magician tae?” Bhen Rudha frowned, searching for words. “Nae magician . . . priestess. Bards be holy people tae.”
Sumire frowned a little at the question, then she chuckled softly and shook her head. “Oh. No. I am no priestess. Although, our royalty consider it good luck and prosperous to have a . . . group of private artists within the palace. Kageyama geisha are unusual. It is more often that an okiya, house of geisha, entertain for many different clients.”
Considering this, Bhen Rudha nodded slowly and said, “Me Athair . . . er Father . . . be Clan Chief, an’ he be ha’en’ tha services o’ a writer o’ history an’ a Bard.” She chuckled and continued, “They dinnae be gettin’ alon’ tae well. Tha Bard be thinkin’ tha other be nae good enough, an’ the writer o’ history be sure tha Bard be changin’ his work.”
The Jappa woman shook her head, smiling. “I am sorry. I do not understand.”
Still chuckling, she tried again, “Sorra. Emm . . . Bards be singers, speakers o’ history, aye?”
“Oh. Hai, yes.”
“Dinnae be writin’ anathin’ down . . . be honor bound ta be keepin’ all in their head.”
“No writing of history? Sou ka.” Sumire tilted her head, the thought of not recording history in writing seemed foolish. But then, the idea of a history-singer keeping history in their head was very interesting.
Bhen Rudha shook her head, answering, “Be talkin’ ta tha Bard me Athair kept. He be knowin’ tha one hundred verses o’ tha story o’ tha Arrival o’ tha Tuath de Dannan by tha time he be ten.” She made a face, then asked, “Hundred . . . ten o’ tens, aye?”
Sumire nodded and said, “Yes. One hundred.” Her eyes then widened as she realized what the other had said. “Oh hundred verses of a song at ten years. Amazing, ne?”
Holding out a hand, the Red Woman continued, “Then he be knowin’ tha five hundred verses o’ tha Death o’ tha Tuath de Dannan afore he be fifteen. An’ he be knowin’ all tha other histories an’ songs afore he be granted Ollave . . . em . . . Master Bard.”
The Jappa woman blinked, saying, “It is wonderful.”
Laughing softly, Bhen Rudha answered, “I dinnae be able ta be learnin’ all o’ tha’. Though I be learnin’ all o’ tha sacred songs o’ me sisterhood.” She waved a hand, “Anaroad, a writer o’ history be takin’ tha tales an’ settin’ them down in tha Ogham . . . em . . . tha letters tha’ we sometimes use.”
Writing things down only made sense to Sumire, but when Ven Rua went on to say, “Be an insult ta tha verra lives o’ tha Bards, who be tha livin’ history o’ tha people,” she pursed her lips and remarked, “Of course.”
“Me Athair be believin’ tha’ both be good, sae kept them, an’ ne’er tired o’ hearin’ their fighten’.”
“Mmm. A man of strong character to be in between two quarreling persons of such importance.”
A wave of grief washed over the Red Woman, and she replied softly, “Aye . . . me Athair be tall an’ strong.” She sighed and shook her head, remembering the last time she had seen her father alive and then . . . after. Grief gave way to anger and she looked down into her mug. Seeing that it was empty, she set it most carefully on the table and took a deep breath. She needed a second and a third calming breath before she was able to settle.
Sumire nodded at Ven Rua’s words, then watched the other’s reaction, sensing that there was probably nothing she could say that would be right. She simply did not know enough, and prying now seemed out of the question.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:14:20 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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(11/17/03 3:30 am)
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Culture Shock (Continued)
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Finally Bhen Rudha looked up and murmured, “I be sorra.”
“There is no need for apology.”
“An’ yer parents. Be they waitin’ fer ye back in . . . em . . . Jappa?” she asked, with a smile of gratitude.
It took a moment for Sumire to gather the words for her answer, the concept was difficult for her to express. Presently she shook her head and replied, “I have no memory of those people who brought me to this world. However, it can be said that the woman who raised me, at the okiya is my mother. She is mother to all the woman at the geisha house. Okaasan. This is what we call her.”
“Aye, I be knowin’ tha’ feelin’. Though I be lovin’ me Athair an’ Máthair verra much, I be also lovin’ me teachers. They be like me Máthair as well.”
With a smile, the Jappa woman nodded in Kaisa’s direction and spoke of her in low tones, “It is very like Obaasan. Grandmother. I can tell she is well loved by this house full of people. She reminds me of my Okaasan, Lady Akino.”
Nodding, the Red Woman replied, “Aye, Seanmháthair be remindin’ me o’ some o’ tha elder priestesses o’ me sisterhood.”
Sumire echoed the other woman’s nod and sat back in her chair with a sigh, contemplating the fact that she would not see her Okaasan again. “Lady Akino is always so . . . serious. She does not smile very much, and she constantly pushes us to work hard at our arts and studies. There is never time for relaxing. However, we did make her smile and laugh. Her laughter is as rare as a gem.”
Though they grew up on either side of the known world, the spark of kindred Bhen Rudha felt for this woman grew. “Me Oide, tha’ be teacher, Sorcha was verra stern and be like ta be dumpin’ ye in tha’ dirt a’fore smilin’ at ye.”
Sumire arched a brow, thinking that a teacher who dumped one in the dirt would be a teacher of the fighting arts. This she could not comment on except in a limited manner to be sure. “I suppose it is a teacher’s way to apply the lesson before love.”
“Be verra true. Oide be sayin’, ‘Dinnae be sae foolish ta be thinkin’ ta be trustin’ tha Bandiá ta be wieldin’ yer weapon. Be yer hand on tha handle’. In fact, she be sayin’ tha’ verra much ta me, a’fore I be truly understanin’ wha’ she be meanin’,” the Red Woman said with a nod.
The pause stretched long before the Jappa woman replied, “That is . . .” Her voice was carefully neutral as she continued, “I am noticing that women here wield blades as men do. In Jappa, it is forbidden for women to take up the blade.”
Bhen Rudha’s brows shot up in surprise. “Ye be serious?”
“It is true.” She took a breath and continued casually, flicking her wrist in a sharp, distinctive gesture. “The penalty is death.”
“Be tha women be teachin’ tha grandest heroes o’ me homeland,” she said, still somewhat stunned by the other woman’s first pronouncement, let alone the second one.
“That . . . is . . .” Sumire shook her head. She decided that she should stop, her opinion on this mattered little in this strange land.
“I be sorra. Dinnae be thinkin’ tha’ be sae smart. Be mana women be more fierce with a blade than a man. Be loosen mana good hands.”
Sumire stood abruptly. “Excuse me. I am finished eating.” Keeping up the appearance of having casual conversation when it had taken such a . . . distasteful turn was something she was only willing to do for so long. And given the Red Woman’s last comment, it was time to end it.
Bhen Rudha stood as well, holding up her hands. “I be sorra . . . be nae meanin’ insult.”
The only answer she had for the other woman was, “It is our way. I do not apologize . . . and neither should you.” Knowing that there was a sharpness to her words she could not entirely smooth away, she tried to soften her departure. “Thank you for your company . . . I would like to perhaps share some of my art after dinner, so I need to speak with our hostess.”
“I be verra glad ta be meetin’ ye Su-mee-deh,” she said, taking particular care to pronounce the woman’s name.
“The pleasure was mine, Ven Rua-san,” she replied smoothly, ignoring the other woman’s further apologies with a smile. She nodded as she excused herself, “Perhaps we can talk later. Pardon me for now.”
“O’ course . . . “ she said as Sumire walked away. With a sigh, she sat back down and refilled her mug with water. She wanted something to drink, but was done with wine for tonight.
The conversation replayed itself in her memory, and she frowned at how it ended. How very strange to live in a place where the price of protecting yourself with a sword was death. Oh, she supposed that there were plenty of other weapons . . . and how often would a musician need to be protected . . . there had to be other, warrior people . . .
Her thoughts rambled on as silence wrapped itself around her once more.
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1657
(11/23/03 1:15 am)
Reply
Seeking that Lost
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The house was unusually quiet for this time of day, and Phalon supposed the rest of its occupants had already risen and were about their business. Despite the height of the sun in the sky, she lingered in her cot, not quite ready to leave it’s comfort and warmth yet.
The remnants of her dream were fading quickly, and she tried to hang on to them awhile longer. The dream was just broken fragments now. Tiny pieces of a larger whole, that somehow she felt should be remembered – that some meaning important to her would be revealed if the pieces were fit together.
* * * * *
In her dream, she was wearing a blue robe – not the royal blue of her old one, the one she’d laid over Bhen Rudha at the close of their battle against Evil. This robe was a blue the color of the sea and was made by the weaver with the fiery hair and glassy stare. It was not floor length, but nearly so, and stopped just above her ankle. The yoke of the garment was the color of red wine, and along the back, above where the two fabrics met, was embroidered a row of amber and ebony green fern fronds. The yoke made a slight dip - a wide V - at the center of her back, and in that V, an intricate knot in the same amber color of the ferns was embroidered. The same material that made the yoke, lined the inside of the robe. Phalon had never felt a material so soft. So comforting. She ran her hands across the nap, admiring its texture, when she felt hands pulling upon her robe. She spun around, the fabric swirling about her legs. Unseen entities surrounded her. Laughter and giggling filled her ears. The wind kicked up, and the robe’s material flowed out behind her, the hands ribbing it from her back. The entities, the robe, and the wind were gone, and Phalon was now alone in a dark forest.
She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her head bent, and hands pressed to her forehead. She felt despair at having had her robe torn from her. An aching, a mourning, as if the robe were just more than an article of clothing meant to keep the sun off, and cold out. It was a part of her, and she felt lost without it. Uncontrollable sobs wracked her body, and she crumpled in a heap on the forest floor.
“Don’t let them do it, Child. Don’t let the Furies’ madness start to tug at the corners of your mind.”
Phalon looked up, and saw Aislen Saorla standing above her, pieces of onion she held in her hands slipping through her fingers and landing on the ground in front of Phalon. “Gather the pieces, Phalon. Put them together and make yourself whole.” The last piece of onion dropped to the ground, and Saorla held her hand out to Phalon. Phalon grasped the gnarled hand, and let herself be pulled up from the ground. “Go now, Child. Go find what was taken from you.”
Next, she found herself running through the forest, afraid of what may lay ahead, but more terrified of what was behind her. Blindly running, tears streaming down her face, she nearly ran into Zena, stopping short just before she ploughed into the other woman. “Zena!”
“Phalon! What are you running from?”
“I’m searching for something I lost, but I can’t seem to find it. I don’t know where to look.” What was she looking for? The robe? Something else?
“Me neither”, Zena said. “Have you seen her, Phalon? Have you seen Evergreen?”
* * * * *
Phalon sat bolt upright on the cot. The sudden movement caused a stab of pain to her head – the effects of last night’s wine still lingering. She ignored it. Evergreen! Phalon remembered Zena saying right before she drifted off to sleep last night that she’d found Evergreen. She felt a pang of guilt for not being able to stay awake for Zena’s revelation.
She hastily got dressed and threw some cold water on her face from a pitcher setting on the table by the window. Drying her face and hands, her stared out the window, not believing she’d slept so much of the day away. She had to talk to Zena right away and find out what she learned.
In the kitchen she found Lyndara sitting at the table, already cleaning vegetables for the coming night’s meal. “Lyndara, have you seen Zena this morning?” she asked.
“Morning? Why it’s nearly midday, Auntie Phalon”, the girl replied. “But no”, she went on. “I haven’t seen her, but she left a note. It says she’s out scouting for something, but she should be back by nightfall.”
Phalon took the note from Lyndara’s outstretched hand and read it to herself. Zena was gone. Searching, but where? Vassaly. Vassaly would know where to find them both. She set the note down on the table. She headed towards the door, and called to Lyndara over her shoulder, “If your grandmother asks where I am, just tell her I’ll be back before dinner.”
Lyndara shrugged and went back to peeling onions as Phalon started towards the inn.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:18:04 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 78
(11/25/03 4:14 am)
Reply Omatsuri
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Sumire nodded once more to the Red woman. Though she had ended the conversation abruptly, she wanted to make sure the woman understood that she really wouldn’t mind talking with her again, never mind that it would be unlikely.
On her way to talk with Kaisa, Sumire found herself stopping by the table where Frieda’s fabrics were displayed. There was so much color that she could not help caress a swath of flannel or study the different patterns. While a couple of the warrior women talked amicably with Metussa on what kind of tunic patterns she and her friend might be able to make, Sumire stood quietly at the edge of the conversation admiring the wares. A flash of rich golden orange caught her eye and she moved forward, reaching under one of the women’s outstretched arms to uncover a fold of silk.
Pulling the fabric to her, she spanned it across her arms and lifted it to the light. Turning this way and that, viewing it at different angles she whispered a word to herself now and again. She would have gone on with her scrutiny of the silk, but something caused her to pause and look up. The talk between the warrior woman and the seamstress had faded to silence as they stared at her.
“Aah.. oh. I..” turning, Sumire held out the silk towards Metussa. “This silk... Where...?” She shook her head and started again “This is... I am sorry for asking, but what price is this?” Metussa looked at the other women and then shook her head uncertainly at Sumire. “Well, I am not sure..”
“You sell it but do not know the price?” Hearing her own words spoken so directly and on the verge of insult made Sumire cringe inwardly. More attention was being drawn to her conversation, which bothered her. Yet other considerations demanded that she must know, so she did not detract it or apologize.
Metussa twisted a bit of cloth in her hands and glanced somewhere beyond Sumire. With a shrug she offered, “Well you see, it’s just that Miss Kaisa..”
“What Metussa means to say is that it’s no worry of yours, my dear,” finished Kaisa as she walked up to the table and lifted a fold of the silk in her fingers. “If you like it, we will see you in it.”
“Ah.. No-no. That is not what I mean..” Sumire shook her head and then moved closer holding the fabric up for the others to see “This is silk from a city in South Jappa. See this...” Tilting the cloth so the light would play across the surface to reveal a small woven pattern, she continued, “Three small marks.. repeat to look like river reeds. This pattern, it is the crest of the town where it was made. This is Kurokawa silk.” She looked up and added, “It is a very fine silk.. A favorite of the Southern Houses of Jappa.” Their blank expressions turned to nods of assumed appreciation.
Nodding to Metussa she lay the cloth down on the table again. “This amount of Kurokawa you have here, is worth... -“ She stopped when she realized she didn’t quite know how to translate the value to these people. Both En and Dinar coin seemed hollow considering the silk and what these people truly held valuable.
“And something so fine would look lovely on you..” Kaisa held up a length of it to Sumire’s shoulder.
Gently gathering it and setting the bolt aside, Sumire declined, “Grandmother, I cannot accept this.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I cannot. I am sorry. It is not my color.” She smiled pleasantly enough. When Kaisa arched a brow in a look that said she thought otherwise, Sumire continued with her half lie. “There are certain colors a person of my position and age can wear. This is not one.” She masked any longing for the familiar silk she had as she watched the woman begin to fold it away. The best course seemed to ignore the fact that the rich hues of a setting sun, deepening to a dusky crimson within the folds, would make an absolutely stunning autumn kimono with the right obi and accents. Even if she would order such a kimono made, she would be long gone before it was ever completed. It was well enough that she was a foreigner and had alien ways; it helped them accept whatever she decided to tell them.
But, even so, it did not look like Kaisa was convinced. Sumire decided to take a different route other than simple refusal of Kaisa's offer. She reached to smooth a hand over a deep blue fold of cloth.. "However.. This.. is a color I might wear." She smiled at Metussa and then looked at Kaisa, whose expression seemed to brighten somewhat. "If grandmother will alow, I will pay for it." When Kaisa started to shake her head Sumire lowered her eyes, but lifted her hand, the woman paused and she continued.
"Grandmother," she brought her eyes up to make eye contact with the matriarch and a few of the other women who where there "In Jappa, I often entertain the House that I am bound to. If it would please you, and the house, I could perhaps offer some music or singing. It is a small thing, but it is the only thing I have to offer for your hospitality." When it seemed like Kaisa would again insist that there was no need to pay, Sumire bowed low, and her voice was quietly insistent in it's plea. "Please allow me this, Obaa-san. It would please me."
Kaisa chuckled, "Well, now now, enough of that. I would hardly turn away some music after dinner. If it pleases you, then I'm sure we will all be pleased. I welcome your music because you offer to share it. My hospitality is earned simply by your presence in my house. Nothing more."
"Understood, Grandmother. If you would excuse me, I must prepare." She gave a nod to Kaisa and the others, then slowly left the room.
Once she was back in the bedroom, she dropped her smooth graceful pace and began to quickly undress. She found her kimono folded neatly on her cot and was slipping her arms into the sleeves while the Greek dress was sliding down her hips. While in between acts of a play or part of a performance, she was used to the furious pace of the quick change behind a partition. However, at those times she always had at least one attendant or maiko helping her dress and undress. Fastening the obi about her waist was difficult without an extra pair of hands, it was never tight enough. Even so, she managed. Bringing up her roll from under the bed she sought out a few things necessary to ready herself. Most of her make-up was lost in the caravan raid, but she was at least able to salvage enough to accent her lips with red and dark liner for her eyes. She had none of the combs to fold into her hair to create the distinctive hairstyle of the geisha, but she was able to twist her hair up and secure it nicely with long lacquered pins. After a few breaths to calm herself from the rushing, she tucked her fans into the obi, grabbed her flute and knelt at the head of Blackwolf's bed.
"Oukami-san, I don't think I will ever sing or play for anyone after this. May you hear my song in your dreams and may it comfort you. It is for you as much as it is for Grandmother and her house." When she heard a stirring she looked up at the young girl with the injured legs who had woken from a doze. Not having noticed the girl previously, Sumire nodded to Gabby and said softly "I play for you too, little sister. May it lift your heart from your pain at least a little while."
She rose, lifted the flute and began to play. It was a whisper of a hymn that seemed to soften the sound of the falling rain outside. Gabby, who had began to sit up, settled down again to just listen. It was like nothing she had ever heard before. It sounded so far away and peaceful.
The song remained delicate and soothing, calling the chill from the rain. It flowed away from Sumire to fill the space of the room. Simplicity alowed for the melody to circle about itself and fold into an easy rythm. Sumire slowly opened her eyes and gazed sidelong at the young girl. As she was hoping the girl’s eyes were closed and she breathed evenly. Stepping with every other beat she gradually backed out of the room, while continuing the lulling song.
She used the closed space of the hallway to amplify the voice of the flute, its low hum carpeting her path. Her steps were slow and precise, matching the gradual ripple of sound that preceded her. Bare feet no longer felt the warmth of the floorboards but the chill of soaked grass. She had brought the rain inside, but for only a moment.
When she turned from the hallway to the entrance of the dining room she greeted the stunned silent faces with a nod and lowered the flute. Where the echoes of flute song faded, her voice lifted, keeping the melody seamless. The words they would not know, but it didn’t matter. The mood alone might evoke a translation. Her hands moved in flowing gestures, adding to the words. She sang of cool and soothing rain that brought chill enough to draw loved ones closer. She sang of how the morning mists would eventually shimmer and evaporate in the air under a heavy lidded sun. She sang of how the smell of a damp wood fire was almost comfort enough when early darkness came after a golden sunset. She sang of Autumn.
As her steps led her further into the main room, her audience opened up offering her an impromptu stage in their midst. Once given the room, her walk became more of a swaying dance in cadence to the song.
How very strange. She could sing and dance interchangeably, but she couldn't remember doing both at the same time. Usually she would sing or play while other geisha danced or vise versa. It took a little more concentration to meld the two crafts within a single performer, but she was beginning to enjoy the interlacing of physical movement within the musical aura she created.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:20:07 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 78
(11/25/03 4:14 am)
Omatsuri (Continued)
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While the song wound down she noticed her audience settling, and found that there was a ring of younger children close to her. Perhaps they would enjoy a festival song a little more than the song of seasons.
There was a moment where the stillness stretched out between the end of the song and the point where her audience felt they could breathe again. At once they voiced their pleasure in hushed words and soft applause, to which she bowed deeply and upon straightening went right into her next offering.
It had been so long since she had danced at a festival that her mind had to race ahead to remember the words of one of her favorite Omatsuri songs. Service in the royal houses could sometimes be stifling, in that the Lords and Ladies often thought their geisha too refined for such common things as festival performances.
Trusting she had engaged her audience well enough she now asked for their participation. A hand stretched out from her side. From her wrist her hand tipped left and right to show the beat that guided a soft chant.
Itsumo kodomo dake ga asobu
Jinjya kawaru fue to taiko
Tooku chikaku narihibiku
The rhythm was apparent and soon she heard a few feet tapping and then hands softly knocking upon table-tops. The children were quick to lend their clapping and laughter. She could not help but smile. Now she had percussion that was essential for a song befitting a festival. There was so much more that was missing. Flute, bells, more drums.. more voices. There was no way to make up for it; but to honor the spirit of the festival and her audience she did her best to give them at least a taste of the celebration. With a nod of thanks she trusted her audience to keep the beat and began to move in a dance that was more lively than the one before. The words she had chanted for rhythm now tumbled out in a lyrical theme that maintained the playful march of the Omatsuri. Once she had begun to move, it all came so easily, as if she were years younger. There was even a piece of verse that lent itself to translation; just one more small thing she could offer them.
Hitori hagureteita itsumo no mani ka
Sora ni chitteku hi no hana mitoreteita
Omatsuri...
Make a dream come true tonight
fushigi no yoru ga kuru
nuke michi ga aru kamoshirenai
achira no sekai made
And so her movements went; a dance of bending and turning and slow motion spins. It was an illusion of motion perfected to make it seem as if she danced on currents of air. Arms arced in turns overhead and knees looked like they would draw up into high steps, but were instead placed gently in a pivot that turned her, not quickly, but with enough flow to cause the long sleeves of her kimono to fan out slightly.
dare?
mekakushishita yawarakai te
shiroi kitsune no omen no anata wa dare?
Omatsuri...
Make a dream come true tonight
fushigi no yoru ga kuru
nuke michi ga aru kamoshirenai
achira no sekai made
Each turn brought her around to face another facet of her audience. By the second chorus, a fan appeared in her hand and she turned it liquidly, drawing on other illusions of the dance. It was a lantern first she carried to light the way with a wavering flame, then it became the silver moon that villiagers would dance under. With a liquid slight of hand, one fan then became two. Excercising deliberate control the slow juggle of fans became a dance through falling leaves. The play of fans became whatever her words and movements suggested they be; flitting moths, floating feathers, tumbling sakura petals, the embers of festival fires.
At some point she went from offering her entertainment as a gift to embracing it as her own celebration. She was no longer acting the emotion of her dance or song, she lived it.
Omatsuri...
Make a dream come true tonight
odoru hito no wakuguri
burimuita yukata no kodomo
are wa tashika ni watashi
Omatsuri...
She danced alone. There were no bells or flutes or samisen to guide the music. There were no waving lanterns or smells of food and fires. There was no din of jubilant crowds. Her voice was solitary, but with her eyes closed she heard the strangers lending their pulse to her steps, and imagined they danced with her. It still rained outside but the celebration came from within.
Though within her joy there was an ache when she realized the song was coming to an end.
Her dance ended as the song wound away from their circle. She spiraled down until she was upon a knee, head lowered, fingertips barely touching the ground. She eased back to sit on her knees. Whispering a quiet "Doumo..” to their applause, she folded the fans and tucked them into her obi, and then withdrew the flute. Her mind was a bittersweet confusion of joy and loneliness. She needed something calming. Something to settle the exuberance of the omatsuri and lift that bit of melancholy that threatened. A story of the creation of the world as told through the eyes of the Elements. Easy, beautiful, a beloved classic; it would be a perfect selection for her friends.
The music was cheerful and chaotic, as were the Elements when they were young and unburdened. Shrill calls juxtaposed with low thrumming moans made some of those listening squirm. It was cacophony. But soon enough patterns emerged as the Elements began to assume character and depth. They recognized each other as siblings and began to play. As the story progressed so did the music. The weaving of notes and themes at first chaotic and carefree, blended to confidence and purity.
Somewhere in the middle of the Taming of the Elements, the melody changed on her. She had become so comfortable with playing that she didn’t realize the story had gotten away from her. The song that made it’s way through was the one she had played earlier in the day when she had fled into the alleys. Those who listened probably would not realize she had gone off course, so she tried to bring the melody back. The transition was uneven but she was able to return to her original choice. And no sooner had she resumed when the melody snuck itself in again. This time, rather than risk an unseemly performance she gave in and let the music take her.
Gorgeous swells of resolution and hymns of destiny crafted their own concert thru the night. Flute song no longer spoke about the beginning of the world, but it’s end. She could not deny it was one of her finest pieces and so she played on.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:21:51 GMT -6
Zena 1
Zena Scrolls Host
Posts: 841
(11/27/03 8:56 pm)
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The Long And Winding Road
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As the road brought them closer to the sea, the air began to taste of salt. The roadside was littered with large boulders and there were fewer trees for shade. The landscape spoke of ocean storms that brought the power of wind and rain ashore. At first she had let Ergo have her head and they flew along the winding and rutted road. “It’s as if she is following a scent” Zena thought to herself. “Is she chasing after something the way I chase after Evergreen?"
Apollo nestled against the hollow in her shoulder grinning as far as his little mouth could stretch, clinging to her forearm and clearly having the time of his life. He had never been this far from home and it was all one grand adventure.
After a time she reigned Ergo in and they trotted first and finally slowed to a walk. At the base of a hill Zena pulled up and sat listening.
“What is it Zee?”
“Shh. Listen with all of your body” she cautioned. He followed her instruction and realized that without his knowledge he was bouncing slightly in the saddle as he leaned against Zena. It was a measured thumping, not random as it would be if stones were sliding down the hillside. On the breeze he caught a faint trumpet sound, and the smoke from a fire spiraled up into the blue sky at the crest of the hill. He turned his head to look up at her, his blue eyes wide. She looked down and nodded slightly. Apollo had put the pieces together, they were not far from the Roman encampment. The vibration made by thousands of sandaled feet suddenly stopped and Zena slid quickly from the saddle. She pulled Ergo off the road and into a small ravine where she could tie her to a scrub tree and bent to whisper to the boy.
“For the love of Artemis and your grandmother, do as I ask, Apollo! Stay here and guard Ergo. I need to see how many there are and we need a way home when I get back! No matter what happens, don’t make a sound!” Her fingers held his arm firmly and for the first time since he had known her he was too frightened to disobey. She turned from him and began to climb the rocks to give herself a good vantage point for observation.
At the top of a large marble boulder she flattened herself out so that her profile was low and she looked down into the camp. It was small by Roman standards, perhaps only one cohort but the numbers were still large enough to be hard to overcome. No toxic stew would do it this time. A lone rider came in from the road they had just left and stopped at the sentries posted at the western side. By the grace of the gods he had remained just ahead of them. The horse looked familiar although the rider did not, and as she recognized his mount her heart began to beat rapidly, it was Whisperer! Zena caught her breath and now knew what Ergo had sensed. She squinted and followed his progress as he entered the camp pulling up at an elaborate tent with banners and standards outside. There, under the shade of the tent flap staked out as an awning she saw a small dog chained to a pole. “Zeus! It’s Little Dog!” She needed no more evidence, Evergreen was with them as Vassaly had reported.
She backed down from the boulder and gathered her thoughts. There was no chance that she could slip into the camp with Apollo waiting here. It was dangerous to leave him for too long with his own curiosity building and the sentries posting a picket in advance of the column. It was best to return and confer with the sisters. The sun was reaching it’s zenith and the rocky hillside was radiating heat. As she scrambled down the trumpet sounded again from over the ridge and the soldiers, who had been on the move since dawn, broke ranks for a midday rest. “Good” she thought, “there is time to stay ahead of them on the road.” When she completed her descent she ran to the ravine where Ergo stood waiting..alone. She drew her sword and crouched, moving through the bushes around the small stream as stealthily as she could. And then she saw them, a robber from the stew escapade and Apollo. He held the boy so that he was off the ground and at his little throat he pressed a dagger. “Looking for something, Amazon?”
Vassaly
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Posts: 12
(11/27/03 10:01 pm)
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In the Mist
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She was dreaming and in her night escape the day was crisp and clear. The wind blew golden and auburn leaves from the trees that scattered down upon the ground like a multicolored carpet. The sky was the color of blue like the dress she wore that rustled around her long legs. She loved the season before the cold sky opened releasing its winter bounty and covered the Grecian countryside in a still soft blanket of white. And in her sleep she likewise pulled the bed linens up tight around her breast and embraced the fabric of the blanket that covered and comforted her.
In her dreamscape she walked a small path that led to the lake that was now surrounded by trees with their branches exposed and sparsely covered with the last of the remaining leaves holding on not wanting to give up their season of life. The sun hung low in the sky and the water reflected its light like jewels she had once seen worn by a passing Roman noblewoman. The water shimmered and called her into its mesmerizing dance to and from the shore.
And as she sat by the water’s edge, the cold north wind blew back her golden hair as if hands ran unseen fingers through its wavy texture gently brushing the strands away from her face. To the east side of the lake a figure stepped from the shadows of the hillside with hand raised in greeting. Her heart shuddered with recognition and expectation. She rose from the place where she was seated, smoothed out the fabric of her cerulean blue dress before waving a return greeting to the approaching figure. She had waited so long…so long and now the time was at hand.
A flock of birds flew over head staying close in formation of allegiance to their own species. And in her dreamscape she felt the rushing of their feathered wings. Did they fly through me like tiny darts? Each living thing must find its own kind and therein abide taking strength and comfort from the familiar. She was of her own kind and therein she found her own peace in the world without dutiful explanation to her brother, the village…or to herself. It was what it was…
She left her spying place by the water’s edge and moved towards the other side of her spiritual piece of silver approaching from the east. And as they closed the distance between them walking among tall golden grass that blew like the lake come to abide on the dry land, she saw the smile and likewise returned it with her own forged in that familiar connection of two that shared one being.
In a moment as likened to the flutter of a child’s eyelash, she reached out to the vision and as she did so, the smiling face and outstretched hand blew away into a mist. And through the veil, the figure walked into the gaping mouth of the waiting hillside, raised a beckoning finger to her before turning and disappearing...gone... swallowed into the landscape.
And in night escape, she struggled to remain by the lake to find her way into that very mist,to also blend into the waiting rise in the land. But the reality that was her true life awakened her to sound of insistent rapping on her bedroom door with a familiar voice calling her name…
“Vassaly…Vassaly…are you in there? Please come to the door…its Phalon…open the door…I need to talk to you...wake up.”
Edited by: Vassaly at: 11/27/03 10:24 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:23:26 GMT -6
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1696
(12/3/03 11:45 pm)
Reply
Genuine Reprievals
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She walked out into the sunlight, any other day its brilliant glory welcome. Today though, for Phalon, a throbbing headache pulsating behind her eyes from having drunk too much wine, and its brightness seemed harsh and vicious. She held her hand to her forehead and narrowed her eyes until they became accustomed to the light. Once that done, muttering to herself that never again would she partake of so much of the drink, she started out towards the Inn.
Along the way, she came upon a group of children tossing a stick to a small dog. The dog would dart away after it, its tail wagging happily, retrieve the stick which was nearly as big as he, and drop it in the center of the circle of delighted children with a series of “Again, again! Throw it again!” yips and yaps.
She stopped and watched, wistfully remembering watching Evergreen, Zena and Gabbyfan playing the same game with Little Dog during their more peaceful, happy days. Where was Little Dog now, she wondered? With Evergeen? Where was she? And Zena, for that matter? Where had she gone, and what exactly was she scouting? Phalon remembered the reason she had dragged herself out of the house, and was about to hurry on her way to the Inn, when one of the children - a scrappy looking, freckle-faced boy - spied her watching their game.
“Look!” he cried. “It’s one of them!”
The laughter stopped, and a hush fell over the group. The only noise now, was from the dog carrying on with his yapping, eager for the fun to continue and not particularly caring why it had stopped, only knowing that, for some reason, it had stopped.
“I was just watching you play”, Phalon offered. “Your dog. He’s cute. He reminds me of a dog I once knew.”
“The dog!” another boy called. “She’s looking at the dog.”
“Did you hear her?” a blonde haired girl of about ten asked. “She said a dog she once knew.”
A younger girl, who looked to be about Apollo’s age, took a few steps towards Phalon. “We found him,” she explained. “We named him Small Dog.”
“Stupid girl!” shouted the freckled faced one. “They eat dogs, you know.”
Phalon was taken aback at the venomous way the child hissed those last words. Simple words of a child, but full of hate and distrust. She’d come across it before traveling through towns – the unwarranted fear and suspicion in the eyes of villagers. She hadn’t expected it here though, in the place that she was raised, where everyone while she was growing up seemed friendly and open. A nice place to live. Was that though, just an idyllic vision seen through the eyes of a child? No, she said firmly to herself, remembering the camaraderie, kinship and kindness of the town’s inhabitants after the Roman raids, each losing something, but ever willing to help out their neighbor, who may have lost more, maybe less – it didn’t matter. These were good and kind people, just grown fearful perhaps by events in their past which they were unable to control. Fearful of strangers, fearful of the unknown. She sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her friends here.
“She looks hungry. Grab the dog before she attacks it!” another of them yelled. One of the older boys scooped up the bewildered dog, which still wondered why the stick was laying on the ground where he’d dropped it. The children started to scatter, running this way and that, some of the girls shrieking as they went.
“We DO NOT eat dogs”, Phalon called after them, frustrated at their ignorance.
Only the little girl lingered. She took a step closer to Phalon and said, “I don’t believe you eat dogs.” She smiled up at Phalon.
“Rhea!! Stop talking to her. You better come now, before I tell your Mom on you”, Freckle-Face yelled over his shoulder as he ran.
Phalon bent down and whispered to the girl. “I do, however, eat nasty little boys with red hair and freckles for breakfast. Not often though”, she winked. “They upset my stomach, and leave a sour taste in my mouth.”
The little girl giggled, and Phalon continued, “You’d better go now, Rhea, before he makes good on his threat to tell your mother. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble.”
The girl turned and ran to catch up with the other children, but not before giving Phalon another of those wide grins. It was a genuine smile, the kind that only children can give freely, before they’ve learned how to conceal their true emotions and hide behind a false grin. The girl turned back once and waved, and Phalon waved back, a genuine smile crossing her own lips.
Funny, the sun which only moments earlier seemed harsh and unrelenting, now felt good against her face. The throbbing in her head subsided, and she felt much lighter than she had. She spun on her heels and continued her path to the Inn, feeling much better than she had and eager to hear the good news from Vassaly about where to find Evergreen. And hopefully Little Dog too.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:24:18 GMT -6
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1707
(12/7/03 10:16 pm)
Reply
Inn the Know
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She was oblivious to the stares and whispers as she walked through town, her mood still brightened by the smile of the child, Rhea. Her optimism was apparent in her step as she neared the Inn, eager to speak to Vassaly. Vassaly would tell her that she’d seen Evergreen in a town not too far away, and that is where Zena would be by now, sharing a good meal and a fine mug of wine, before bringing Evergreen back here to her friends – her family.
Her pleasant imaginings came to an abrupt halt though, as she approached the door of the Inn. Darkness and cold enveloped Phalon, although the sun still shone bright in the sky. She placed her hands on the wooden door, worn smooth from years of previous patrons doing the same - pushing the heavy slab open, looking for a good meal, a warm bed, or just camaraderie shared over a good drink. Phalon was looking for none of this, and though her business here was urgent, she paused before entering, her hands seemingly glued to the wood. Then it hit her. Hit her with such force that it seemed an army of men on the other side of the door burst through and barreled down upon her…
Her hands went up, but too late as her fingers dug into the cord that garroted her neck. She violently kicked out at her attacker, but the slippery ground had joined as conspirator in her taking.
Breath…ah…gasp…fight…keep the fingers under the binding around my neck…its cuts off my voice…no one will hear…
Evergreen?
The darkness lifted and the sun’s light engulfed Phalon once again. Its warmth did not diminish the chill she felt though, and she rested her forehead against the door, catching her breath as if she were the one with the cord around her neck. After a moment, she regained her composure best she could, pushed the door open and stumbled into the main hall of the Inn.
It was nearly empty, the morning rush having subsided a while ago, the patrons having gone about to the tasks of their day before some would return soon for the midday meal to fill their bellies again with the large, rich portions of food that came forth from what seemed like an endless supply from the Inn’s kitchen. The cook was the same as was employed by Vassaly’s parents while they were alive, and her food had gained a reputation as being some of the best in this part of Greece, and at meal times the place was nearly always full.
It was quiet now though, the only inhabitants being the girl who helped serve the meals, who was now busy cleaning and readying the place for the next meal, and a young man who looked to be close to the same age as the girl. The young man leaned back in his chair and placed his feet up on the table, draining a mug of what Phalon assumed to be mead. She winced at the thought, her headache having returned with a vengeance. His mug now empty, he said to the girl, “Get me another, Woman.”
“Get off your bum and get it yourself, you oaf! I am not your servant, nor will I ever be. You’d better get that straight now, Leonidas Ignatuis.” She swatted at him with the cloth she was wiping the tables with. “And get your boots off the table. Have any manners ever penetrated that thick skull of yours?”
He placed his hands in front of his face in mock fear. “Leonidas Igantuis? You must be really be mad. Only you and my mother call me that, and only when I’m in trouble.”
It was clear they were teasing one another. It was also clear they were in love, and Phalon felt almost rude for interrupting. “Ahem….Excuse me. I’m looking for Vassaly”, she said.
The young man took his boots off the table and stood. “Why would the likes of you be needing to speak to Vassaly?” he roughly asked, trying to make his voice deeper than what Phalon assumed was his normal tone.
“Leonidas Ignatuis! Your manners.” The girl tossed her cleaning cloth on the table and came to greet Phalon.
“Again with the full name? I think I should probably go back to bed and start the day over, as much trouble as I’m getting into thus far”, he said trying to win her over by flashing a smile.
The girl glared at him, and once he looked appropriately humbled she continued towards Phalon. “You’re Kaisa’s daughter, aren’t you? Phalon, is it? I am Althea. The oaf over there is Leo – most of the time. Leonidas Ignatuis when he’s being incorrigible.”
Phalon smiled in spite of the foreboding dread she felt stemming from the vision she had outside the Inn, and from the thought that Leo might try to prevent her from seeing Vassaly. “Yes, I’m Phalon, Kaisa’s daughter.” And looking at Leo now, “And I do not eat dogs”, she defiantly added, instantly shaking her head at the stupidity of the statement once it was out of her mouth.
“That’s a good thing”, Althea said, “because we don’t serve them here.”
She laughed – a pleasant twinkling sound that reminded Phalon of little bells, and Phalon could not help but laugh also. Even Leo joined in, and Phalon let out a sigh of relief. Neither he nor Althea would give her any trouble.
“I really need to talk with Vassaly. Is she here?”
“She hasn’t come down yet this morning”, Althea said. “Which is very unusual”, she added. “I’ll take you up to her rooms.”
Phalon followed her up the staircase and down a hall until Althea stopped at Vassaly’s door. “I’ll leave you now. Just call if you need anything.” She smiled, then turned and left.
“Vassaly…Vassaly…are you in there? Please come to the door…it's Phalon…open the door…I need to talk to you...wake up.” Phalon rapped at the door.
Instantly and clearly, Zena’s words came to her – words the previous night she had failed to absorb. “I’ve found her, Phalon. I’ve found Evergreen, though I think I may have already lost her. And she’s lost herself.”
Knocking harder now, more insistently, “Vassaly, I want to talk about Evergreen….and Zena.”
Edited by: phalon1 at: 12/7/03 10:23 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:26:11 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 86
(12/8/03 10:29 pm)
Reply Stealing Away
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Echoes of the last refrain lingered in Sumire’s head and she sat, transfixed. Eyes stared unseeing at the woodgrain of the floor in front of her. Within that gap of time she was far away.
A knife lies a hand’s breadth before her in the grass. The sun warms the back of her hand as she reaches for it. As she turns it and levels it at herself, the blade reflects the breathtaking colors of a gorgeous sky...
The last song was a simple reassurance that the world was holding its breath waiting until she came to that place. Once she had rejoined her destiny, the world would go on as it was meant to; her role in it fulfilled. All would be right again.
Through a mild haze she heard their applause and enthusiastic words of approval. Someone patted her shoulder and went on to say something. A child tugged excitedly on her sleeve. Blinking away her vision, she realized her present world was suddenly in focus and loud with gathered voices. Thanking everyone, she bowed several times and, with a grateful smile, nodded to those words directed at her.
Smiling at the children that tugged her sleeve, she tried to understand but they spoke much too quickly. It took some concentration but she did gather enough to understand they wanted to see her fans again. Just as Kaisa was about to shoo them away, Sumire shook her head and chuckled letting Kaisa know it was all right, and that she would oblige them. Opening her fans once more she began to demonstrate some of the mesmerizing patterns and impressions of birds and animals. When it was finally time for the children to go to bed, she enjoyed a little more conversation with the women before she had to bid her leave, claiming exhaustion.
Quietly she gathered her things and repacked her roll. Setting it at the foot of her cot, she lay down and waited. Soon the entire house would sink into the quiet of sleep and allow her to take her leave. It shouldn’t take too long.
Yet.. that moment never seemed to come.
Grandmother and Phalon stayed up talking, Bhen Rudha left at some point, the one known as Puella woke up suddenly as if from a dream and was walking about, Zena who had left earlier in the evening seemed to have returned and was talking with Puella, Phalon returned to bed. It was a restless night feigning sleep trying to wait for the moment of her departure. Every time she made an attempt someone would either stir to leave or return from somewhere. At one point, surprised by Zena’s pre-dawn return, she was caught standing in the middle of the hallway. Sumire simply mumbled something and acted like she was returning from a visit to the little private room outside. Zena hardly noticed, she was so intent on trying wake Phalon up. It seemed like there was something happening, but it was no longer her concern.
The sun rose and to her frustration, she had not been able to sneak away. Perhaps this was not the morning. Perhaps it was a test. Now tired and sleepless, she watched the rise and fall of Blackwolf’s breathing while she contemplated what she was to do.
She had to leave. That was imperative. There was no way she could go on living among these people after having given her gifts as a farewell. Letting them appreciate the memory of her was acceptable, further complicating their lives was not.
Silently she observed as the household woke up and eventually took her own part in the morning’s bustlings in order to find when she might be able to slip away. It came soon enough; everyone who was awake was involved in the morning’s chores, or going off on errands.
When things were busiest she chose her moment and left. No one seemed to notice. She had tucked the parasol next to Blackwolf and covered it with the blanket. On it was a note to Blackwolf asking her to accept it as a gift. She wished she could leave a note or something for Kaisa, but what to say that did not further complicate things? Oukami might understand. Whispering a few words to Blackwolf she left by the back door and found her way down the path that had led in the direction described to her.
The night before, after the children had been put to bed, Sumire had complimented Kaisa on the meal and went on to ask where such fresh fish had been caught on such short notice. As she had hoped she was told of a small lake not to far away, fed by stream that eventually joined the ocean. She was certain that this stream would be where she was supposed to have seen her final sunrise.
Well, she had figured, if she didn’t greet the sun, at least she could say her goodbye as it was setting. It seemed like it was just as fitting to end it then.
Soon enough she emerged from the trappings of civilization to a path that lead past fields and toward a lightly wooded area. Upon a small rise she could see the pond and a few people that fished there. Allowing herself enough distance to not be seen, she left the path and began her circuit that would eventually bring her to the stream that fed the pond.
While she walked she began to think about how her life had come to this conclusion...
Edited by: the chaotrix at: 12/8/03 10:38 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:26:59 GMT -6
Vassaly
Registered Member
Posts: 13
(12/10/03 12:36 am)
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Dancing at Mid Morn
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The noise of clanking dishes, the dull scrap of chairs being pulled away from the spot where they nested under tables, shouts of orders, laughter intermingled with an occasional disgruntled remark of a hungry patrons, went totally unnoticed by the woman sleeping above the din of the crowded Inn. Below, Althea busied herself clearing the tables as fast as they were vacated by satiated diners only to move on back into the kitchen to bring forth another serving tray laden with breakfast fare.
The harried server silently noted Vassaly’s absence in between her thoughts of killing Leo if he barked just one more command at her. Even the heavy iron pots tolling against the side of the large wooden vats where they were deposited to be thoroughly scoured following the morning meal, did not wake the sleeping woman. Althea made an agreement with herself to go upstairs as soon as the morning rush had passed and finding the time to reassure her that all was well with the normally punctual and hardworking co-owner of the busy Inn.
She heard her enter seconds before she saw her. Actually, it was what she didn’t hear that keyed her to the arrival of Amazon standing in the doorway. The noisy room quieted to a buzzing hush with side glances and subdued gestures pointing out the woman now making her way across the wooden floor with all the obvious intent of making contact with the surprised server.
As was her accepting nature, she quickly assessed the new topic of conversation as a pleasant person with a kind face, but disarming eyes…the kind that saw into the depths of your very soul. She had seen such a look behind the eyes of another as a young child. In fact, she again made mental note, that the face of the other looked strikingly similar to the one making her way towards her at that precise moment. Althea had heard stories of how the woman saw visions, spoke in riddles, and had left the village one day to never return. This one coming her way could not be the vanished one as the face was much too young. Such puzzlement this was…
“I really need to talk with Vassaly. Is she here?”
“She hasn’t come down yet this morning”, Althea said. “Which is very unusual”, she added. “I’ll take you up to her rooms.”
Phalon followed her up the staircase and down a hall until Althea stopped at Vassaly’s door. “I’ll leave you now. Just call if you need anything.” She smiled, then turned and left. A puzzlement indeed…
“Vassaly…Vassaly…are you in there? Please come to the door…its Phalon…open the door…I need to talk to you...wake up.” Phalon rapped at the door.
The woman wrapped in the coverings on the bed stirred fighting the need to stay where she had found herself in her dreams and vigorously ignoring the intrusion of the waking world pounding at her door.
Knocking harder now, more insistently, “Vassaly, I want to talk to you about Evergreen….and Zena.”
Such names spoken from the outside her bedroom door, were strangely familiar as the sounds floated in through her ears to flutter inside her sleeping mind. But the only name she whispered in response was Leara as she struggled to remain in the other world seeking the one beckoning for her to follow.
Streams of sunlight filtering through the slats on the bedroom window joined the aural assault as bits of dust dancing in the rays tapped on her eyelids insisting that gray green eyes awaken to join in their play. Vassaly raked her hand through her hair pushing it up and away from her forehead. She turned onto her side and reached out as to encircle something that was not there… and only then did that realization cause her body to surge with the energy that rushed her into acute arousal of all her senses.
POUND…POUND…POUND…
“You… in the hallway …quite down…I paid for the room…not to hear your bleating out at some sleeping tavern wench!”
Silence followed the bellowing male voice with Phalon not responding as she would have liked in other circumstances. The sound of clinking and raking of metal upon metal was her only quiet and unheard reply.
Ah there…got it…got it…Amazons have their ways…which often earn them a night of incarceration until the offending lock meets Evergreen’s instant get out of the dungeon free technique. Glad I paid attention the last time we…
Whooompph!
The mumbling Amazon went rolling in as Vassaly released the inside latch at the very instant Phalon had pushed against the now unlocked door. The two women fell into an involuntary embrace as they tumbled backwards. Dancing away from the open threshold, the startled Vassaly quickly found her footing, stopped their motion, and held Phalon out at arms length.
“By the gods above, Phalon…this better be important…” Vassaly was not a happy tavern wench….
"We make our own choices...we pay our own prices"
Edited by: Vassaly at: 12/12/03 4:32 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:32:55 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 90
(12/12/03 2:22 am)
Reply Omoide: Nobody’s Wife
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Sumire entered the wooded area and kept a path she imagined would be parallel to the edge of the pond but out of sight from those that fished there. Eventually she should find the source that fed the pond.
There was a slight drop in temperature once she entered the trees. She walked slowly, enjoying the play of dappled light on her as it filtered through. There was the chitter of a squirrel here or a soft buzz of an insect, and her soft foot falls. It felt kind and welcoming. Expectant. Knowing. It was almost comforting. Almost.
As pleasant as the woodland walk was, her thoughts kept circling back and she wondered how her life had become so burdensome. In doing so, passing through the trees became an all too familiar sensation that brought recent memories.
~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
Sumire smiled as she watched the merchant lord finally place his next piece on the board. Falkan was now starting to play the complex mental game of Go. He learned quickly. Now the game would become more interesting and last longer. He caught sight of her smirk and made to remove the piece he just placed down, but she cautioned him against it by lightly setting her fan upon his hand. “Iie, Danna. You have placed it well... It is a good move. Do not be swayed by the expression on my face. Not yet. We are not yet at that level of the game.” She removed her fan and nodded to him.
“Oh.. And if I remove it and placed it here?” challenged the merchant lord, taking the piece and placing it at another mark.
Sumire considered a moment and said, “Then I would think you were playing like a child.”
“And what if I wanted you to think I was playing like a child so that I could lure you into my trap, eh? What then Sumire?” Falkan smiled in that way of his, everything was a wiley joke.
She paused only long enough to put the words together. “I would step into your trap because the trap you carefully built is only a smaller part of my trap that I built when I placed my seventh piece over ‘there’” Sumire lightly tapped a white chip on the board with her fan and arched a slim eyebrow.
Falkan’s brows knit and he leaned closer to examine first her piece and then his and the marked distance between the two. His eyes quickly traced the relationships between the black and white pieces on the board and the spaces in between. He then looked up at her, eyes wide “How? Where? I don’t see. When did you–?”
Sumire could only hold her face still a moment longer and then she laughed, shaking her head. “Joudan, joudan! I only joke. For now we will play more simple games. The traps will come later. You will see.”
Their levity was interrupted by distant shouts and a guard snapping back the flap to the tent they were in. “Lord Falkan, the tail end of the train is being set upon! We need to get you clear.” The guard looked at Sumire who was starting to stand. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.
“I’m not going anywhere but to defend what’s mine.” Falkan grabbed his ornate scabbard which hung from a post within the tent. He turned on Sumire who looked like she was about to follow. “You stay here until we return for you. I’ll send Daisuke to you.”
Sumire shook her head in protest and was about to say something when she was cut off by the merchant lord’s growl. “Do as I say. You are to go nowhere unless your bodyguard Daisuke is by your side. Wakarimasuka?”
At hearing this, a tight smile of acquiescence appeared on Sumire’s face. She gave a slow singular nod and moved smoothly to sit. “Hai, Danna. Wakarimasu.”
As soon as Falkan and the guard left she rose quickly and reached for her higasa and tucked her fans into her obi. She exited the tent and immediately looked about. It was oddly quiet at the head of the caravan. Everything was focused on the part of the caravan being attacked. It seemed wrong to her, and intensified her need to find Daisuke. She made toward the hind end of the caravan when she stopped short. Her breath caught and the folded parasol slipped from her limp fingers. She had stumbled upon two bodies: Falkan and his guard. The chaos of the caravan attack was still at the far end but moving closer.
A cold chill crept through her bones even before she heard Daisuke’s quiet voice behind her, “So. You would rather stay with your merchant lord, eh?”
Her expression smoothed from stunned to neutral upon hearing him. She turned and bowed low. “No, my Lord. My place is my service and duty to you.” She heard the soft metallic sigh and then click of his sword being sheathed. Her eyes lingered on the ground as she raised her head. When she lifted her eyes to him she tilted her head and affected a casual manner. “My Lord has grown weary of our former owner. It is well enough.” she said smoothly. Whatever she might have felt for Falkan she could no longer afford. So she made it evaporate and refused to acknowledge any feelings of loss. It was easier to go on without such encumbrances.
As stunned as she was by seeing Falkan dead and knowing it was by Daisuke’s hand, she was relieved to find Daisuke. Now she could assume her true duty: defending her noble Lord. Sumire glanced around and made a quick assessment. People from the caravan were staring to run past them. “Come my lord. I think that both ends of the train are unsafe. We must–“
Daisuke grabbed her wrist and pulled her after him towards the front end of the caravan
“We leave by the Northeast end of the wagons. It will be open for us.”
“But.. How can you know, my lord?”
“Here, this should lead us out..” he said looking as if he had found some path he knew would be there.
“I don’t think–“ she increased her pace so that she was hurrying beside him, rather than being pulled along. Her eyes were constantly darting about. They had already started to deviate from the route and were taking a path through the trees.
“Lord Daisuke, where are we going? Why this way?” Sumire started pulling her wrist from his grasp, trying to draw his attention to her, trying to slow him. He twisted his grip, tightening it, and stopped.
“Listen to me, woman. At the last town, I made arrangements: the goods of the caravan for our freedom.”
“You bargained with thieves?” she whispered. She could not help the incredulous expression that crossed her face. You’ve killed us, her mind wept.
“There were rumors that a group of warrior women were in this area.”
“I heard the rumors too, but now is not the time! And not– not with this!” she waved with her free arm in the direction of the caravan.
“It is time when I say it is time, woman!” he began to twist her arm further, displeased with her outburst. “You will do as I say, when I say.”
Growing impatient with his arrogance she began to speak even more frankly then she would have dared before this, “You need not remind me of my duties, my Lord, but please think a moment–“
”You are here because I need you. You will infiltrate this clutch of women, you will find out if this Xena is among them, and if not you will learn where she is.”
“We have already been over this. I know what I am supposed to do. But like this? And now? And what if they are simply a band of women? There was not enough in those rumors to tell us they will be of any use in getting to your ‘warrior princess’ ”
“You will do as I say. If there is anything of use you will wring it from them. If I so deem they are in my way, you will eliminate them. ” He twisted his grip further in his growing anger.
“Lord Daisuke, please hear me. I know it is important to find out what powers this woman had and take them, in order to secure your bid for Higuchi, but to succeed you must survive! To deal with the bandits of a foreign land is just..” She shook her head angrily cutting off exactly what she wanted to say, but the thought was plain on her face. Arguing with him at a time like this was just as stupid as making deals with thieves. Turning her arm out of his grasp, she walked away from him and made her way back on the path they were headed. Her time of deferring to the young Lord of Kageyama was over. She needed to get them out of this.
Fury surged through him as her face betrayed what she had not said. Then she dared turn her back! He caught up to her, grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. His backhand caught her full on the face. She staggered back, but he caught the font of her kimono.
“I bought your freedom, you stupid woman. Don’t you understand that?” he pulled her close and explained in a quiet fury, “After all this is done and I bring Higuchi into Kageyama’s reign, I will need to bring heirs into Kageyama’s latest conquest. You will be a wife at Higuchi. Can you understand at least that much?” She understood, but she couldn’t speak. The obvious answer was to thank his generosity and graciousness, which she was trying to do but her mouth was not working. Her mind was racing too fast. She had the sudden urge to laugh at this horrendously absurd situation.
Her lack of comment further stoked his ire. He shook her and hissed through clenched teeth “..or did you enjoy sharing that westerner’s bed that much?” His raised voice held a desperate pitch.
Oh no, not this. Not now, she mentally pleaded to no one in particular. He was just a stupid boy after all.
“No, please do not misunderstand. I serve only Kageyama. It is by your grace that I will continue to serve my Lord Daisuke...But we need to get free first, yes? Please. Let me go before you, my lord.” She pried at his fingers clenched tight over her kimono. He did not move. His expression was taut and his eyes were hard and glassy. Sumire could see that she had hurt his pride and more than that. Had she known he felt like this...
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:34:10 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 90
(12/12/03 2:22 am)
Omoide: Nobody’s Wife (Continued)
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It was too late. There was no time to mend things or make right misunderstandings. Her only hope was that there was time enough to get themselves out of this mess.
“Please, Daisuke-sama... I will do whatever you ask of me..” Still trying to pry his fingers loose with one hand she reached out a with the other and laid it on his chest just under his throat. She lowered her voice; cool, calm, soothing. She locked her gaze with his. “A wife would go before her husband to prepare his way...” His iron expression wavered. “..I have never had the chance before. Allow me to start now, and show you how worthy I am, ...Danna.” Her voice became thick with implied emotion when she used the term ‘husband’. He closed his eyes, struggling with himself. Placing her hand lightly upon his jaw she whispered, “We will get free and you will see, Daisuke.” His gripped loosened and calmly she detached herself from his grasp. “Come, my Lord. Let us get free then.”
Their flight began again. With the exception of the copper tang of blood in her mouth, she was able to will away the incident from the forefront of her mind. She would worry about becoming entangled in the plans of an warlord’s ambitious son once they’d survived.
The narrow path soon opened up and she slowed down. Daisuke made a move to pass her and she caught his arm to hold him back.
“No, my Lord. Wait..” there was something beyond vision or sound that made her pause.
“There’s no time” He shrugged off her arm and moved past her “The sooner through this, the sooner we are free.”
With him going forward she was forced to move as well. It made it harder to sense the path ahead. When she had paused she felt it less, but once they were moving again, the air changed. There was a density. From one moment to the next she went from feeling it, to hearing it. The tension of a bow being drawn.
A Trap.
She dropped and swept Daisuke’s legs from under him, saw the arrow chip a piece of armor from his shoulder as he fell. The second from the other side of the path flew over them both. She was up in time to sweep an arm at the third and then fourth.
Two archers. One on each side of the path.
“Get up, My Lord. You must run.”
As Daisuke jumped to his feet he drew his katana. He saw Sumire with her back to him, facing the direction of the archers, her arms out wide. She was creating a shield for him.
“Get behind me, idiot woman! What are you doing!?!”
“What I was trained to do, my prince,” came the quiet answer. She did not even glance at him. Her attention was on the arrows which were coming as quickly as the archers could shoot them. A couple more came and she dispatched them easily. She waved an arm at one and her other arm at the next. The arrows seemed to disappear. The contrast of her liquid fast movements to her calm words while she spoke was eerie. “They are waiting for us up the path. If these archers do not pin us here, there will be more further on. You must find another way. But please go now.”
“I will hew down these dogs before I let them hurt you..” He made to push past her but she stepped backwards into him and powered an elbow into his chest causing him to involuntarily step backward, thereby keeping her in front.
“Go now, stupid boy! RUN!” she hissed at him. Two more arrows came with that moment of distraction. She deflected one and snapped out a hand to catch the other before it could find his throat. She caught the arrow, an instant before he sliced it with his sword. Without even acknowledging him she tossed the severed arrow aside and watched for the next. So, he might know how to use the sword for more than running through soft merchant lords.
“As long as I can stand before my Lord I can control these two archers, but there will be more. Go now, Lord Daisuke. Cut south until dark and then circle west, if you can. I will follow when I am done here.” Sumire removed a fan from her obi. With a sharp crack it was opened, the metal-tipped spines extended beyond the oiled paper into dangerous points.
He looked at her in disbelief. Arrows hung caught in the long sleeves of her kimono. Her fan wove a slow serpentine pattern until it snapped out and broke an arrow in mid-flight.
“Im- Impossible. I won’t allow it.” He stammered, moving up by her side, sword poised and waiting for the next volley.
“It’s too late for such ludicrous demands. I’ve saved your life twice before but you were too young to know it.” Her eyes restlessly went between the two archers, who she could distinguish from the shadows now. “My path might end here so that yours goes on. Now go!” She heard the subtle crackle of dried leaf under a boot and realized that they had a moment’s repieve.
“They’re moving” she hissed. Stepping backwards, further up the trail, she pulled Daisuke with her.
“No. I’m not leaving you. We’re getting free together.” He moved closer to her, and put himself in line with one of the archers. In a single arc of movement she shoved him aside and let fly with one of her lacquered hairpins. She felt the caress of air as an arrow flew by her ear. The sound of a grunt came from her own target, but she knew it was only enough to give the archer a minor distraction.
fwwp Kshhk– a half-second’s glance to her side, showed the halves of an arrow that would have pierced her shoulder, falling to the ground. Daisuke had already turned his sword and was at the ready again, watching the archer for the next.
Having seen the attack on his mate, and his perfectly timed shot thwarted, the other archer faded back, further into the shadows. Sumire took the opportunity to drag Daisuke further away, up the path.
“Listen well, my prince. If you wish to cling to your fool dreams then you must leave now. I am nothing to you but your servant and I cannot serve you if you are dead. Leave me these two now and I will find you.”
“You are so much more..You will be my--”
“No. I am servant of Kageyama. All my life has been spent in training for this. The Secondary Training of the Kageyama Geisha forbids marriage. I am nobody’s wife.” Expecting this proclamation would jolt him into realizing the futility of his plan, she was shocked to see him calmly nod.
“You said you would prove yourself worthy. Now let me prove myself worthy.”
“Fool! Have you no sens–?!“ Her words cut off as the handle of Daisuke’s katana cracked over her temple. She dropped heavily to the ground.
“They will not harm you, Sumire. I will not let them. I am a Lord of Kageyama.”
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
Edited by: the chaotrix at: 12/12/03 2:57 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:34:40 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 95
(12/18/03 3:12 am)
Reply Omoide: Buried Voice
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((Author's Note: This one contains graphic content (rape), although not too graphic, maybe PG13.))
~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
Even though her vision had not cleared and her body was paralyzed and numb, feeling the bandit’s weight upon her and his grunts were enough to tell her what was happening.
It was nothing to her. Simply an unanticipated obstacle in her duty to protect Daisuke.
She had not counted on Daisuke trying to ‘protect’ her from danger. Where was that idiot? She found it frustrating that she was being prevented from protecting her Lord. If this was happening to her, what had happened to him? She started to panic and then quelled it. There was no time for panic or frustration if she was to get herself out of this predicament and back to Daisuke’s side.
Her thoughts were quick and calculating as she began to assess her situation and plan to overcome her attacker. She could feel where most of his weight was centered, and where exactly his hands were holding her down. The leaden weakness that unconsciousness had brought was starting to fade. She felt strength returning to her limbs, yet she kept herself relatively still. Erupting from stillness would bring about swift results. It was so much cleaner than pitting force against force. As soon as she had her vision back she would try to see what weapon, if any, was available; if there proved to be no accessible weapon then–
DARE HE!?
The interjected thought was no thought at all but a spark of incredulous fury. So unlike her. Its rawness interrupted her mental preparations. Knowing such emotions hampered efficient work, she pushed past the internal cry, and focused again on her coming attack. If she were to lock this arm that was closest at the same time she rolled opposite his center, that would give her enough–
Pain. The numbness faded and left open the flood gates. It had been distant at first, but now it had a jarring volume. This brigand hadn’t been the only one. How long had she been out? Was Daisuke dead then?
More clarity returned. Her radius of sound increased beyond the bandits ragged breathing and obscene whispers. She began to hear other voices. Her vision cleared then to include the boots of those who encircled her and waited for their turns. If they were only closer she could–
DARE THEY!!??
The spark of fury blossomed into a peal of thunder in her head. It was her own voice, but it was someone else’s passion. And it was irresistible. No more thought and planning. It consumed her and fueled her actions. The only bit of icy control left she utilized to bring them closer: with a whimper she gave them a lame struggle. They moved in to help hold her down. Snaking a hand free, she swiped a boot knife and then released the whirlwind of fury. Lost in the spinning rage of dealing death, there was only a dim awareness of hearing Daisuke’s war cry.
The fourth one dropped at her feet. There wasn’t another near her. In that moment of stillness, she pulled her torn kimono closed while the other hand flipped the dagger, adjusting her grip for a throw. She looked for the one who would be fifth and found none. Her fluid pivot revealed that there were more bodies than she had a hand in killing, and swaying above those, was a mortally wounded Daisuke. Dropping the dagger, she rushed in and caught him as he collapsed. She ignored his apologies and desperately tried to save him.
“..I brought down eleven of those dogs before they even touched me...Would that I could have killed them all before they... before they.. I’m so sorry–“
“Hush. Be still, my Lord. You need to stay with me.” Feverishly she tried to find the worst of his wounds to staunch them. But as soon as she thought to focus on one slash, her fingers would find a deeper cut, or she’d see blood trickling from a new source.
“...I wanted only to prove myself...to my wife..” He actually smiled at her. She couldn’t remember when he had ever turned a smile on her.
“But you have, Danna...You must live so that you can marry me... Danna!” you stupid, stupid– Her desperation fermented into anger as she felt his life slipping through her inept fingers.
“...Sumire...” Hearing her name through such a weak whisper, she closed her eyes. He spoke her name as an equal. As more than a friend.
“No.. Daisuke. Don’t– Please..” But there was precious little she could do to save a man who took on an entire band of brigands single-handedly in order to save her.
Men were such fools.
It wasn’t until later, at the stream, she realized that the internal voice, though uncharacteristic of her, was as much hers as it was the echo of someone else. Someone who had taught her the value of certain things. Someone who she refused to think about. Someone, who like Daisuke, had been a fool. As the cold water of the stream numbed her wounds, so she willed it to kill the ache of distant memory.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:36:07 GMT -6
Zena 1 Zena Scrolls Host Posts: 851 (12/24/03 8:44 pm) Reply Red Dawns -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Is this your son Amazon? Do you know how easily I could snap his neck, the way you did my brother? Or should I just slit his little throat?” Pressing the dagger tightly against his prey he pulled Apollo’s head back to make his throat more vulnerable. A tiny pulse beat against the skin of his neck but the boy kept as still as the doll of rags that his smallest sister dragged everywhere with her. “Brave boy!” Zena thought. She held her sword lightly in her hand in case she had to change it’s position quickly and blinked as the dagger the thug held caught the noonday sun and momentarily blinded her. She shifted slightly to the right to avoid the reflection. Zena’s serene demeanor covered her fear and no one observing the scene would think for a moment that it was the thug who held the control. Softly and evenly she spoke, “Do I know you?” “Know me?  ” he screeched in return. His body tensed and the shabby pieces of mismatched leather armor that he wore nearly fell from his scrawny body. “You should know me!! I was there! I was there!!” “I’m sorry, “ her soft voice wrapped itself around the thug’s frantic mind, “I do not understand. Where were you?” “In the forest...You killed my brother! You snapped his neck when he was helpless from your poison!!!!” “It was not me.” She cooed at the filthy bundle of raging anger. “It was!! It was!! We were all sick..you could have gone..left us...but you came back..Grebus couldn’t defend himself and you twisted his neck...like I will with your son!!" She held out her left hand, palm up, but made no move to lower her sword. This was not merely a situation of opportunistic greed or violence. Something had been gnawing away at the spirit of this man for some time, warping his soul. “Tell me about your brother.” Softly, softly she drew his mind away from Apollo. “Brothers...we were brothers...he was the only one I trusted...can you understand that? No one else to trust but my brother...alone..alone." He was actually weeping now, and tears were washing into his grizzled beard. “The Furies are surely driving him mad” Zena pondered silently. He sobbed and suddenly shouted to the sun above: “Oh Grebus!! She killed you..the red one..I will avenge you..I promise!!” “What did you say?” Zena felt a twinge of fear and nausea. His burning gaze swept over her as if he realized that he had not seen her before this moment. Leaning toward her in a whisper of a voice his said, “It was the red headed one...naked..like a demon..we were helpless and sick she killed them all but three of us who lay still on the forest floor. She came silently...no mercy...like a demon..." Now he was fully consumed by his own grief and perhaps open for attack. His sobs shook his thin body and she took a step but he pulled himself up and focused again. “NO! I will send your son to Hades!!!!!! He stood so close to the tip of her sword that if they were alone she would have taken the advantage but Apollo would surely be sacrificed before she could do anything. It was then that she noticed Apollo blinking...over and over...and she understood. She flipped her sword to catch the sun and sent the flash directly to the thug’s eyes. His reaction was predictable and in the moment he lifted his arm to shield his face, she moved like a cat to knock him down and held him by kneeling on his chest. Apollo wriggled free and ran behind Zena. “Kill me. Why don’t you just kill me??? The Furies torment me...’avenge Grebus’..all through the night....I can’t eat or sleep..." She turned her head slightly to avoid his foul breath from rotting teeth, “I’m not going to kill you. Amazon’s only kill when they are threatened.” “That’s a lie!!” he hissed from his place on the ground. “She killed my brother and he was no threat.” As if dissolved by despair he began babbling nonsense, weeping and tearing at himself and his clothing. From around his waist Zena took a muddy length of cloth to bind his hands. As it lay across her palm, she ran her thumb over the fabric, a stange piece for a thug to wear. Silk. Beautiful patterned silk under the mud; patterns that reminded her of...something. She tied his hands and pulled him to his feet as Apollo led in the thug’s horse and Ergo. Between them they guided the man up onto the saddle of his horse where he slumped forward. Apollo and Zena mounted Ergo and she took the reigns of his horse to bring it with them. His mumbling ceased for a moment and he seemed to regain his thoughts. “Where are you taking me?” “To justice, I hope." Apollo looked up at Zena and for the first time she saw in his eyes that he had been afraid of this insane wreck of a human being. She nodded encouragement to him and he settled in against her body. They took the road away from the Roman camp and grimly Zena set her thoughts on what was ahead. Zena "Agere Sequitur Esse" |
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:39:08 GMT -6
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1798
(12/31/03 1:39 am)
Reply
Spent Time
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Come on, come on, come on. Vassaly had refused to answer the door and Phalon resorted to trying to trip the lock. Just a little bit more. Careful, careful. She was glad she’d paid so close attention to Evergreen last time they were stuck in such a predicament that needed a steady, skillful touch. Click. There. Here we goooooo…
The door opened from the inside just as Phalon pushed from the outside. Whumph! She ploughed into Vassaly as she came hurling through the door on unsteady feet, nearly sending them both sprawling across the floor. Their odd little dance continued some distance across the room, then slowly came to a halt. Vassaly straightened, helped Phalon upright and noticing the carved bone hairpin in Phalon’s hand, said, “I see you learned well during your years spent as an Amazon.”
Phalon grinned sheepishly, and tucked the pin back into the knot of sun-streaked hair at the nape of her neck. “I’m not actually an Amazon. Just the crowd I run with.”
“By the gods above, Phalon…this better be important…”
Phalon took a moment to smooth her hair into place, glancing around the room as she did. Her brow began to furrow and Vassaly noticed she seemed to be searching for something. Phalon slowly turned in a circle, stopping in front of where Vassaly stood. “She was here….and yet…she was not.”
Vassaly, normally a woman of great understanding and tolerance, was growing impatient with this intruder of her sleep – of her dreams. “Is this one of those visions you have, Phalon? Stop speaking in riddles. I’ve no time for such nonsense this morning. The day is nearly half over, and I’ve stayed in bed for far too long. I’m hungry, and I have a lot…”
“Visions? You know about my visions?” Phalon was shocked. No one here from town knew of her visions. No one here was supposed to know, save for the women she rode in with.
“Everyone knows that you ‘see’ things, Phalon. We all knew something happened…that something changed in you right after Athan was killed.”
Phalon drew in a sharp breath. Athan. She hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud since she’d run away so long ago. The name, his face, his voice, his touch, his scent – everything about him – it was all engrained forever in her memory, but to hear it now, out loud…it felt like a knife sliced into her chest, twisting to the core of her heart.
“It was more than just the grief over his death”, Vassaly continued. She stood at the window, looking out with her back towards Phalon and did not see the other woman grow pale as she gripped the bedpost.
“I remember once, seeing you walk through town in that daze we all had about us then, after the Romans attacked. Yours was deeper though, grief stricken – yes, but there was something more. In that daze, you bumped into one of the Roman soldiers - peacekeepers, they called them. HA! They were nothing more than thugs. Just as he lifted a hand to swat you away, as if you were nothing more than a fly, you grabbed his elbow and told him, without any emotion what-so-ever, ‘Death will come to you soon, Roman. A death far worse, and more painful than any you have dealt by your hand, I can assure you. Leave here now. Forget this town, these people and forget you were ever Roman. Do this, and instead your death will be one embraced in age, after a life fully lived. I know this to be true.’
I thought he’d take his sword and run it through you right then and there. But he didn’t. He looked into your eyes and saw something wild, and he was afraid. So deep was his fear, he didn’t even wait for the cover of night to leave. I watched him sneak out of town, towards the sea, shortly afterwards, shedding his Roman uniform as he went.
I suppose we all were a little afraid of you then. Your unnerving stare, your mutterings. You started to avoid contact with people, and they with you. Kaisa…”
“Kaisa! My mother knows?”
“Yes, Kaisa was sick with fear that you’d soon go mad.
Kaisa knows? Oh, the irony. She hadn’t understood the visions or what was happening to her. Thinking that the gods had flung a curse down upon her, that the Furies were driving her mad, and unable to handle her grief over Athan’s death, she’d left town – left her home and her family. Not wanting anyone to know of what she thought was insanity; she left everything she loved behind. Kaisa would have comforted her in her grief and quelled any fears of madness. No she wasn’t insane then – the madness would come only after she avenged Athan’s death. If only she would have talked with her mother – her mother knew – and would have understood. Probably would have told her the story of Eurayle then, and not have had to wait twenty years to tell it. Twenty years! Wasted time – time she could have spent with her father before he died, time spent comforting her mother, time watching her nieces and nephews grow from babies into children. “So many years…”
She hadn’t realized she was speaking aloud, hadn’t seen Vassaly cross the room and stand before her, until she felt a hand on hers. “Phalon? Phalon…”
Phalon looked up and saw comforting gray eyes. “Phalon”, Vassaly softly spoke, “you never did say why you came here.”
It took Phalon a moment, and this time Vassaly was patient. When she gained her composure, she said, “Evergreen. She was here, I know, although, oddly, I feel that she wasn’t.”
A knock on the door, and Vassaly lit across the room and threw the door open as if she were eagerly expecting someone.
Upon seeing Althea standing in the hall with a tray of food, a slight frown of disappointment crossed her face. It quickly vanished, and she spread her arm inwards towards the room, beckoning Althea. “Althea! You’ve brought a tray! How thoughtful of you. Come in, come in.”
“It’s not much. The breakfast has been done hours ago, and the midday meal not yet begun, but I thought you’d be famished by now. It’s not like you to sleep so late, Vassaly.”
“I know, I know. Come Phalon. Sit with me at the table. She’s brought plenty.”
Althea set the tray laden with fruits, breads, and hot, rich broth on a small table near the window. She smiled at Phalon, and before leaving the room, turned to Vassaly and asked, “You’ll be down for the midday meal?”
“I’m not sure, Althea. Phalon and I have a lot of catching up to do.” Althea nodded and closed the door behind her.
Once they were again alone and seated at the table, Vassaly said, “Yes, she was here. And you’re right. She wasn’t really Evergreen. She’s Leara now. Leara of Rome.”
The broth smelled delicious. It was hot, and the steam tickled her nose as she blew into the mug to cool it. She was grateful for the food, not only because she hadn’t eaten yet today, but also because it gave Phalon something to do while she listened to Vassaly tell her story of Leara, instead of interrupting her with questions.
She listened the whole way through, from start to finish, and although Vassaly spoke in flat tones, her voice only betraying emotion once or twice with a slight cracking, her eyes gave her away. Those gray eyes that were comforting to Phalon moments ago, now were filled with a sadness the depth of the sea.
“I sent her away”, Vassaly finished. “I sent her to Kaisa’s. I sent her to Zena.” She sighed and let her arms drop limply to the table.
The scuffle outside the front door, rope around a neck, lungs tight and mouth gasping for air…
Phalon reached across the table and gripped Vassaly’s forearm. “I don’t think she ever made it to Kaisa’s, Vassaly. Or to Zena.”
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:41:05 GMT -6
1 Xwpfan
Registered Member
Posts: 1250
(1/5/04 7:08 pm)
I want to be like you...
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The evening meal was long since done and Xendra was feeling a bit overwhelmed the events involing Timeleon and Boudicca made her heart heavy like she had absorbed far too many emotions at one time.
More than anything she longed to walk alone in the cool night air but her company expected and she could not dissapoint Kaisa or her guests.
Instead Xendra quietly excused herself from the noisy banter of the dinner table and found a stool by the fire to sit and contemplate on the events of the last few days.
Xendra's thoughts drifted aimlessly as she watched the fire change hues and shapes as it flickered along, the warmth of the fire engulfed her and lulled her into almost a hyponotic state,for the first time in a long time Xendra was completely comfortable with her surroundings and the company in which she shared it.
Although Xendra had her eyes closed and body completely relaxed,moments later Xendra could not help overhear the voice proclaim .."I dare ya" .
Xendra carefully raised her eye just enough so she could see out of the slit of her eye - two of Kaisa's oldest boys were daring Vania and pointing towards Xendra.
Xendra quickly reshut her eye and awaited Vania's response.
Vania with hand on her hips and her voice raised said "I am not going to tie her boots together ...that's just childish!"
The boys in a sing song kind of voice taunted Vania, "What's wrong are you scared? See I told you she wouldnt do it girls are chickens. You're a chicken aren't you Vania? bawk bawk!! Vania's a chicken! "
The other boy chimed in " Nah! She's not brave enough to even be a chicken! Vania's nothing but a scarredity cat!"
Their taunts infuriated Vania and she cried out "I am not a chicken !!!..I'll show you !!! SEE!!" and began to creep along the floor behind Xendra.
Xendra closed her eyes tighter and just waited for the little hands to tug on her laces, no matter how brave Vania was Xendra could not allow Vania to successfully tie her boots otherwise all the children would be trying to play endless practical jokes on her.
Xendra repressed a smile as she felt the little hands tugging at the leather laces. Xendra paitently waited until Vania had loosended the last string then Xendra quickly bent down and grabbed her wrists.
Vania screamed in surprise and there was unmistakable laughter coming from the opposite corner.
Kaisa quickly called out to see what was going on and Xendra answered back "Vania was just helpping me with my boots that''s all."
The boys howled with laughter as Vania looked up at Xendra apologetically .
Xendra laughed and offered Vania a hand up off the floor and said to her " If you try that again on someone else try to be more quiet- you might have more success."
Vania's eyes widened in disbelief. " You're not mad at me Xendra?"
Xendra smiled and said, " Mad? No that showed alot of courage - you had no way of knowing how I'd react. I think if you learn how to better use all that bravery and courage someday you could even be an Amazon ....if you wanted."
Vania's enter countenance beamed as she said" Of course I want to be an Amazon someday, I want to be just like you Xendra!"
The words resonanted with Xendra she had once long ago had little voices say the same words to her, voices that had been silenced and passed over to the Elysian fields. Xendra felt her eyes fill to the brim with moisture but she found enough inner fortitude to not let even a single tear drop.
Xendra was relieved that she did not have to deal with her emotions, for moments later Frieda Rose and Metussa were being ushered through to show their wares .
Edited by: 1 Xwpfan at: 1/11/04 7:45 am
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1835
(1/9/04 9:59 am)
Without Firm Conclusion
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Vassaly’s face grew ashen as Phalon described the scene outside the Inn she had witnessed in her mind’s eye. “Are these visions you have ever wrong, Phalon?” she asked, her voice shaky and uneven. “Are you sure it was her?”
“Yes, Vassaly. My visions are often wrong…or incomplete, I should say. More accurately, I suppose I often interpret them incorrectly. I am sure though, whether the vision was wrong or not, that it was Evergreen with the cord around her neck, though I have no notion as to who her attacker was.”
“It could be then, that none of these things you saw ever happened. Perhaps rather, it is something that may happen, and that could be prevented?” Vassaly asked with a glimmer of hope.
“I suppose so, yes”, Phalon answered, but added, “but to treat it as such – to ignore that possibility that she may have been abducted…” She paused. Abducted…or worse, she thought, the same as she supposed Vassaly was thinking, but by both keeping those thoughts to themselves perhaps it would not – could not be. She continued, “to ignore the vision, could put her, us – the town in great danger.”
“You think then, it was someone outside the town that may have done this? She was dressed in Roman military uniform. You know, as well as I, that there is a great hatred of Romans here. If someone from the village saw her come in, they’d have had plenty of time to prepare for the attack when she departed.”
“Yes, but if it were someone from the village, I’m sure we would have heard about it by now. News of someone capturing a Roman military leader would have spread through town like wildfire, especially here at the Inn, where tongues tend to wag the more drink passes over them”, Phalon determined. “Does anyone else know what you’ve told me? That she plans on bringing on her army unless the Amazons are surrendered?”
“No. Zena knows most of what I’ve told you. She knows of Leara, our time spent together and that her troops are hunting for Evergreen and those that travel with her. I don’t think though, unless she’s come to the conclusion herself, that she knows Leara plans on destroying the town and everyone in it unless you and your friends are given up. Or that Leara even knows you are here. Everything that Zena knows happened before Leara came to me last night. And it was only then, when she entered my room, that I knew she knew the town harboured those she sought.” She thought for a moment. “You’re not thinking that perhaps it was Zena who placed the cord around her neck?”
“It is possible”, Phalon answered. “And it would be the best situation. Zena knew the Romans were searching for us. We talked long into the night and I’m not sure what time she left the house for her scouting mission. She could have left near the time Evergre…Leara exited the Inn. Though the storm was over, the clouds still hung in the air covering the moonlight. In the dark, she could have mistaken her for a soldier and attacked to see what details she could uncover. Then realizing it was Evergreen, and since you sent Leara to talk to Zena, perhaps the two of them are together, talking things through.” Phalon seemed doubtful, even as she spoke the theory aloud.
Vassaly saw the doubt in her eyes. “You don’t think this is the way it happened?”
“That is the way I’d like it to have happened. But suppose Leara had no recognition at all of Zena. Suppose she turned and then attacked Zena, taking her as hostage until Evergreen was turned over to her. Evergreen can be stubborn, and Evergreen as Leara, I suppose would have that same trait. If she refused to believe Zena - that she herself was the one she sought to capture – then taking Zena would be the perfect way to get to Evergreen.”
Vassaly nodded, and Phalon continued. “There is another possibility, and perhaps this is the worst of them all. Vassaly, in your time spent with Leara in Rome, did you notice anyone under her command that seemed rebellious to her authority? Someone capable of a revolt?”
“That was not my place with her,” Vassaly responded. “I wanted no part of that area of her life…that side of her. I hated it. The only matter of it I would discuss was to try to interfere – to plead with her to stop. And in that, I’m afraid I’ve failed her.” Her voice trailed off. Vassaly spoke again and it was an urgent plea. “Phalon, we’ve got to find her. We’ve got to start searching now.”
“We will search, yes. We will search, my friends and I, because my friends are her friends too – her sisters. We will search until there is nowhere left to search. But you, Vassaly – you will stay here. Because it is here that Leara will return if she is able.” Phalon added, “Besides, Vassaly, we do not know what we are up against. Your love for Leara, no matter how great it may be…”, her voice faded, and remembering Athan , she finished, “Love is no match for Roman steel.”
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
Edited by: phalon1 at: 1/9/04 4:34 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:42:58 GMT -6
1 Xwpfan
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(1/9/04 7:23 pm)
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Steady Eye on Frieda Rose
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Xendra was not thrilled to sit for a fabric sampling but she was anxxious to further observe the blind seamstress Frieda Rose.
Although Xendra's mind had been preoccupied during dinner, she couldn't help but be amazed at how well Frieda Rose had handled herself.
Despite the constant noise and chatter from the children , hands grabbing food from every direction and being in strange surroundings with even stranger visitors, she had composed herself well.... least until she indulged in a little too much mead .
Even under the influence of mead Frieda Rose was still able to deftly unpack each sample and her assistant Metussa proudly walked around showing off each piece with great care .
Xendra ever observant and curious found herself wondering about Frieda's inate abilities.
Frieda did on occassion require some assistance but did not move as one who had been hampered by the lose of sight. She was not nearly as needy or dependent like some she had seen begging on the streets of other villages.
Xendra kept a steady eye on Frieda Rose,there was something about this woman that exuded an inner strength and demeanor.
Xendra could feel herself making Frieda more nervous than what she already was so Xendra broke off her stare . As Xendra's eyes darted about she looked down and saw Vania huddled close to her and was continually sneaking upward glances at her .
Xendra decided to distract her and pointed at the fabric Metussa was bringing around, "Wouldnt that be pretty material for a dress for you?"
Vania's face scrunched up with disgust as she said" Yuck"!
Xendra laughed out loud and said "Ok lil one which material would you want?"
Vania scrambled to her feet and pointed out the material that looked surpising like Xendra's own tunic. Vania squealed " I want a tunic just like yours!"
There was such love and admiration shinning in her little face,that it startled Xendra for a moment and got her mind thinking.
What was Xendra going to do about Vania? It wasn't like they were going to be here forever, this was just a holding spot for Gabby and Blackwolf to rest and heal, to stay any longer than that would endanger them all.
It wasn't as if Vania was an orphan or anything she had a family, so it wasn't as if Xendra could adopt her or raise her as her own and she wouldnt be around to train her as an Amazon .
Xendra could not bare leaving the girl heartbroken either- it was becoming an emotional intanglement Xendra had not expected.
Xendra sadly shook her head, she knew she was going to have to give this serious thought in the days ahead but for the night she was going to push it aside and make Vania a very happy little girl.
Since the children had already been fitted and measured, Xendra went to approach Frieda Rose about ordering a special tunic,but unfortunately Frieda Rose, with the aide of Lyndra made a hasty farewell .
Xendra was not to be disuaded and approached Metussa before her departure.Xendra requested Frieda Rose's buisness location so that not only could she order the tunic in person, but that it would remain a secret from Vania as well.
Metussa was at first reluctant,unsure if she should give the address to a stranger an Amazon at that but after a few moments she relented and gave Xendra directions to Frieda's shop.
Pleased with the course of events, Xendra walked back to Vania and lifted her up and said, I think it's time for you to go to bed lil one."
""Aw Xendra do I have to? "
Xendra smiled and said, "No but if you don't, you may be too tired to help me out tommorrow."
Vania gave Xendra a quick squeeze around the neck and then scurried off behind her siblings to bed.
As Xendra prepared to retire for the evening, she found her self grinning and humming a bit to herself .
As Xendra laid down her mind whirled with the thoughts of the day and the coming events of the next day.
All her thoughts seemed connected to Vania somehow. Vania, not only had found away to capture Xendra's heart but had managed to fill it as well.
Xendra tossed and turned, her thoughts wavering from happy thoughts to sad thoughts back to happy again.
Xendra was exceedingly glad that would she get to observe Frieda Rose the blind seamstress in a one on one setting and more over thrilled that she would return with home with a marvelous surprise for Vania.
Vania. Xendra's mind just couldnt wrap around what do to about the girl, this wasn't home and Vania wasn't hers.
Xendra laid there in anguish trying to find a solution a remedy that would satisfy heart and mind but she couldnt think of a one.
After what seemed an eternity, Xendra thought maybe she should ask Phalon perhaps she would know the right thing to do.
Xendra crept along the wall as not to lose her way in the dark til she saw two shadowed figures sitting by the hearth sharing a drink. Xendra saw that it was mother and daughter talking and decided not to interupt.
Instead Xendra decided maybe it was time for that evening walk afterall.
Edited by: 1 Xwpfan at: 1/11/04 8:16 am
1itt1e dog
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(1/10/04 6:35 pm)
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Doggone
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The horse stood patiently under the canopy as the rider dismounted and went into the tent. Beneath her the dog strained against his chain, all four feet dug into the dust as he pulled backward, showing his teeth in a snarl. He could smell his woman but he also smelled her fear, her blood.
(oooooooooooo...woman..my woman...g..e..t......o..u..t..grrr..loose, let dog loose!!!)
He pulled until the post that held the awning began to wobble. The horse, picking up the urgency in the dog’s frantic movements became restless. She too wanted to return to the woman she had left in the dark hole in the ground. One sound kick of her powerful backlegs splintered the pole and they were both free. The soldiers ran at them from all sides, grabbing at the reigns and shouting but the dog and the horse were gone before anyone could get a firm hold on the leather or the last few links of the chain. From under the awning Appolinarus slashed at the fabric with his sword, furious at the inadequacy of his men. He cut himself a doorway through the canvas and stepped through bellowing:
“Idiots! Get that horse back! And kill that damnable dog!”
(fast..go fast..no more chain..never..never chain again)
The two plunged into the scrub brush and quickly found a small winding creek. In a short span they had both latched on to a scent that pulled them like a fish on a line and that ran at that scent with desperation.
Cave Canem
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:44:02 GMT -6
phalon1
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(1/11/04 11:53 am)
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Out Through the Inn Door
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Phalon quietly closed the door to Vassaly’s room. It was agreed, with a little persuasion from Phalon, that Vassaly should remain at the Inn in case Leara returned. Vassaly had protested at first, arguing that she could not stand by and do nothing, knowing that the one she loved may be in peril. Idleness, especially in solitude, tends to create worry that can twist itself into gripping fear. But there was a chance that Leara might return to the Inn, and should that happen, Vassaly needed to be there for her.
Phalon walked down the hall and stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the dining hall before descending. Diners for the noontime meal were just starting to filter in, and although the place was not busy yet, there were enough patrons to create a quiet din. Vassaly had told her that Leara implored her last night to leave the Inn with an urgency that implied if she were to remain here she would be in danger. In danger of what? Phalon could not imagine that Leara would order her troops to destroy all these people, and all others in the town mercilessly. Had Evergreen as Leara lost so much of herself that she could issue such an order? It was inconceivable.
She descended the stairs, and upon reaching the main floor, sought out Althea and quietly pulled her aside. “Althea”, she said in a hushed tone, “is there anyone here you can trust? Trust implicitly, and with your life?” “And who is also skilled in weaponry?” she added.
“Weaponry? Trust with my life? Why? Why do you need to know this?” Althea was caught off guard by the question.
“Just answer please. It’s important for Vassaly’s safety, yours, and that of the town.”
“I just…I want to know…why are you…” Seeing the urgency and seriousness in Phalon’s face, she pushed aside curiousness and surrendered without further protest, “There’s Cassius, Vassaly’s brother, of course. And Leo.” She nodded in the direction of a group of men gathered around a table, talking boisterously. Leo was amongst them, and though he still had his feet up on the table seeming to be a part of the revelry, Phalon could tell he was more intently focused on she and Althea than the conversation going on around him. “For all his oafishness”, Althea continued, “he is a good man, with a good heart and intensely loyal.”
“But can they fight, Althea? Can they defend themselves and others if need be?”
“Cassius can fight, yes. He does not stand for unruliness in his Inn, and on more than one occasion I’ve seen him use force to eject those not willing to go who’ve caused trouble here. And Leo won both the archery and knife throwing contests we held here in town last year, at the same time the Olympics were being held in Athens”, she answered. “But again, Phalon, why do you need to know this?”
Phalon ignored the last question. “Good”, she said. “Quietly ask them to have their weapons on hand, and be alert to anything that seems unusual, especially of those who look Roman….”
“Roman! Why would…”
“Sshhh”, Phalon hissed, glancing around the room to see if anyone may have heard. Only Leo was watching them, and satisfied that no one else paid them attention, she continued, “I don’t want to cause any undo panic among the villagers, but yes, there may be a danger of Romans entering the village.”
“What’s going on, Phalon?”
“I don’t know yet, Althea. That’s why I want to keep this quiet for now. Just you, Cassius and Leo, okay? No one else needs to know – not yet anyway. Tell them to be on guard, but not arouse suspicion. Send word to Kaisa’s if you notice anything unusual…especially if the woman who Vassaly left for Rome with returns here.”
“Leara?”
“Yes, Leara. This all revolves around Leara and the Amazons. Now do as I ask, please.”
Althea nodded, clasped Phalon’s hand, and said, “I will, Phalon. You can trust me. And you can trust Cassius and Leo too.” Phalon could see the truth in her eyes, and satisfied that was enough for now, left the Inn.
The heavy door closed behind her and she stepped out into the day. The sun was bright and warm, erasing any evidence of the previous night’s storm. She hurried off to Kaisa’s, but after taking a few steps, stopped abruptly as if she’d forgotten something. She turned back towards the Inn, and her eyes scanned the ground. Just dirt. No flash of sunlight glinting off a band of gold and silver as she imagined she would find. Perhaps Vassaly was right, and this time Phalon’s visions were wrong. By the Gods I hope so, she prayed as she rushed home to alert the others.
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
Zena 1
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(1/11/04 6:48 pm)
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On The Road Again
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Ergo kept a quick and steady pace on the dusty road. Occasionally Zena would look over her shoulder to be sure that the demented thug was still tied on the horse she was leading. His thin form bounced with the horses’ gait but he travelled in another world where nothing but the Furies reached him. She pondered the fact that he had gone from a murderous threat to a helpless bag of rags in just a few heartbeats. His love for his brother and his need to avenge his death drove him on when loneliness consumed his heart. She pitied him. It would have been wise to get out of the noonday sun but Zena knew that the Romans would move once more before twilight and the more of the road she kept between them, the better.
Suddenly, she felt the vibration of hoofbeats coming up out of the rocks directly behind them. The Romans had sent a scout and he had seen them! There was nothing to do but fight. She pulled the horses to a rocky outcropping at the side of the road intending to dismount and send Apollo on while she created a diversion. Before she had time to draw her sword or slide out of the saddle, Little Dog shot past Ergo’s legs. Directly behind him galloped Evergreen’s mare and they were over a small rise and gone as Apollo said, “What was that?”
Zena had no need to urge Ergo forward for the mare had seen and smelled some old friends that she had long missed! On the other side of the small hill, the dog and the horse turned, having realized that the scent they followed was now behind them, and returned with the animal equivalent of great joy at the reunion. Zena and Apollo laughed as everyone was sniffed and greeted with some sign of favor. Only Evergreen was absent from the gathering of companions and perhaps she too would come over the hill searching for what was lost. Zena watched the road for a few moments but Evergreen did not appear.
“Well Apollo, we started out the morning alone and now we have a prisoner, a herd of horses and a dog!”
“Zee?”
“Yes Apollo?”
“I’m having a great time!"
Zena chuckled but felt the urgency to get the mixed crowd of people and animals off of the Roman road. And, although she hoped to see Evergreen chasing her horse and dog, a Roman Evergreen was an uncertain entity. Better to meet her on different terms.
Whisperer tossed her head and seemed anxious to resume the journey so Zena put the dog in Apollo’s arms and they set off again at a much faster pace than she had planned. Evergreen’s mare seemed to have a purpose in her mind and since it was leading them toward the village, Zena didn’t try to plot a different course. It wasn’t far into the afternoon when the pond and the shepherd’s shelter appeared in the distance.
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:45:27 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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(1/12/04 1:51 am)
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Song of Samhain
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Smoke drifted through the air, and she could taste the roast venison and boar over the fire. Mugs clanked together, and men shouted their brotherhood. Her parents sat at the head table, smiling and laughing, bright in their love for this family and each other. And through it all a singing voice wound its way through the room, sparkling in the corners, shining above their heads. The words were foreign, incomprehensible to her, and yet . . . they called to the fair folk, and filled the hall with their ethereal light.
It did not matter that the tune was strange, the rhythm of it different than that of her people. She could feel the festival in the music, and so it did not war with the image that built behind her eyes. She even found herself singing softly to the one line she understood . . . Omatsuri . . . Make a dream come true tonight . . .
Bhen Rudha smiled bittersweetly and opened her eyes in time to see Sumire snap out her fan, and it seemed that her vision carried to this waking world, turning Kaisa’s house into her parents’ feasting hall. She felt that she too sat at the head table, as she never had as an adult, and watched this foreign Bard celebrate the changing of the seasons. Her bare feet added their thump to the drumbeat, and she marveled with them all as she saw in a pair of fans the Moon, the leaves, the feathers . . . the fire.
In her vision, her father became more solid, turned and looked at her, his blue eyes luminous, and smiled.
“Athair,” she whispered.
His smile, so full of love and joy and pride stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes. She wanted to go to him and curl up in his lap, to tug on his beard and feel his arms, stronger than anything in the world, wrap around her. He shook his head slightly and his fingers moved in Ogham signs she read through blurry vision, “Miss you, my little Fiach.”
Her trembling fingers kept her from signing back, but his smile only widened and he nodded, as if he knew what she would say. Then he turned his attention back to Sumire and his image faded back into the shades of her imagination, so less vivid, and heartbreaking in that she had not more time with him.
Perhaps it was because Sumire’s song was so captivating, or perhaps it was because she sat behind everyone else, regardless of the reason, no one noticed her tears and she was able to gather her composure in peace and return her attention to the performance.
In her captivity the Red Woman had lost track of the days, and did not know when in the season it was. She felt that it could be near Samhain, the greatest of the fire festivals, when her people would dance and sing and call out to the beloved dead in love and remembrance. She itched suddenly to leap around a bonfire, to ask her mother and father for guidance in this coming year, to renew her bonds with her ancestors . . . almost she leapt to her feet right then, but she could also feel Sumire’s memories in her music and could not trespass.
When at last the Jappa woman brought her song to a close and knelt on the floor, Bhen Rudha wiped her eyes and gave her applause with the others gladly. This was a rare gift, a treasure she would remember forever. And when the flute was brought out, she quickly quieted, delighted that there was still more to this performance.
The first discordant notes splashed into the air, springing from the flute, and she wondered what the Jappa woman was doing. It was almost difficult to listen to without wincing, though there was one phrase that reminded her of . . . water . . . and the slow, deep sigh made her think of a mountain, ancient and unbendable. The more she thought about it, the more the music conjured other images too, of a great, leaping bonfire and of a blast of wind that could carry trees away.
Sitting up straighter, she listened as carefully as she could. When she heard the first notes of harmony, she smiled, finally understanding the story that was being woven for them with music. She fancied now that she could see the Elements leap around Sumire’s head as the flute gave their beginnings a voice. This was not so different than the way her people saw the shaping of the world, nor in how they would tell the tale. Music had been ever present in her life, as it obviously was in Sumire’s, and seemed a common language between them, which intrigued and delighted the Red Woman . . . this was a sister indeed from the other side of the world.
The chaotic music gentled, becoming by degrees harmony, and somewhere in the process the story changed. Personal tragedy and triumph replaced the conjured Elements, and she sighed to hear it. Such beauty, such grace . . . a fresh welling of tears filled her eyes, for she could think of no other way to express her appreciation for such an offering. The Jappa woman revealed her soul in such a song . . . and claimed that she was no priestess . . . Bhen Rudha shook her head, thinking that if this was not worship, then nothing was.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:46:10 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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To Dance on Samhain
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The performance was long since over, and most had found their beds, and still Bhen Rudha lay awake, thinking about the visit from her father and listening to the rain. It had been a long time since she heard the rain sheeting against a roof. Absently she rubbed the heel of her hand against the knot that rested over her heart, and thought of the first time she had heard such a storm outside.
* * *
“Fechine, finish your dinner.” Her father’s voice called back the twelve year old girl’s wandering thoughts, and she blinked up at him.
“Sorry Father, I was just listening to the rain,” Fechine said, honestly contrite, and tried to do as she was asked. Slowly, however, her attention was stolen back by the rain that beat restlessly against the windows, and soon she was staring into space, her fork held halfway to her mouth.
Dimly she heard a sigh, and felt a hand take her fork. She blinked and blushed, looking down into her lap, “I did it again . . . I’m sorry Father.”
“Nevermind about the food, little Fiach, what is it that you would rather do?” Aed asked, sharing a glance with his wife.
Immediately she said, “I want to go outside.”
“Are you sure?” her mother asked softly. Fechine nodded, her attention shifting back to the window, no matter how hard she tried to keep her attention on her parents. “Then let’s go outside,” Islene said, and rose from the table.
“I want to go outside too!” Sile demanded, not willing to let her sister have anything she didn’t.
“This is something for Fechine and your mother,” Aed said, placing a hand on his older daughter’s shoulder. Before she could get a real tantrum started, he continued, “Besides, it’s too cold and wet for me, why don’t we go play Hart and Hounds by the fire?”
Mollified, but not entirely happy, Sile made her way to the chairs by the hearthfire, but not before she cast a dirty look back at her sister. Fechine missed the look, her attention still riveted on the rain, and the prospect of actually going outside in it. Her mother’s hands fell to her shoulders, and she was steered gently to her room, where she was told to take off her clothes, so as not to get them dirty.
* * *
Bhen Rudha heard the rain whisper her name, and smiled into the dark. If she could not dance around a Samhain fire, then at least she could dance in the rain. She rose quietly from bed, and made her way barefoot to the bathing room, where she took off her clothes and set them folded neatly on a bench. Cool air glided over her skin, and she shivered with chill and anticipation both. Standing in the doorway to the outside, she remembered her mother in the rain.
* * *
“Do you know why you want to go outside, Fechine?” Islene asked, losing the ties of her gown before slipping it over her head.
“I . . . it wants me to . . .” she stuttered and stopped, looking up at her mother with wide amber-green eyes. “All I can hear is my name, Mother.”
Islene smiled, remembering the first time she heard the rain call her to dance, and cupped her daughter’s face in her hands. “The Lady understands that sometimes we carry heavy burdens in her hearts, and sends the rains to help us ease those burdens. So sometimes, it is good to go outside and let the rain wash us clean.”
“Like when we’re sad or angry?” Fechine asked.
“Exactly like that. Though sometimes those burdens are greater than simple sadness or anger. Sometimes they are great pains that can only be eased or diminished by the rain, and not washed away completely.”
“But what if we don’t have any burdens? Why does the rain call us then?”
“Ahh . . . then the Lady wants to cleanse you of all the small things you carry, so that you can be strong enough for the burdens that will come later.”
“Do you have burdens Mother?” the girl asked, and watched sorrow mix into the pride that shone on her mother’s face. Fechine never quite understood why she should be so sad.
“Aye, my Fiach, all adults have burdens, though some we are happier to carry than others. Come, there is thunder on the way, let us go dance and meet it.”
* * *
She felt the whispering tickle along her bones that said thunder coming, and stepped into the yard behind Kaisa’s house. As the first drops fell on her head and shoulders, the Red Woman felt the knot over her heart unclench. The pain was still contained, but the burden was already easier.
Standing with her head thrown back, and her arms raised, Bhen Rudha started swaying to the rhythm of the rain, just as the voice of her mother in her memory told her to.
* * *
First they swayed together, feeling the rain beat upon their faces. Then Islene stepped low and to the side, spinning on one foot as she rose. Fechine tried to copy the step and managed to stumble only a little. Her mother smiled and repeated the step, always waiting for her daughter to follow before continuing.
Fechine blinked as she saw the lambent sheen that grew around her mother, and vowed again that someday, she would be just like that. Her mother laughed softly and spun in place, before leaping, as if over a bonfire. The girl rolled her head on her neck, then copied the move, sliding only a little in the mud.
“Come Fechine! Thunder is coming! Let us dance! Dance!”
For a moment, she stood entranced by the suppleness of her mother’s movements, how her long dark hair hid and revealed the tattoo that spread across her back, and the way her eyes lit as the lightening grew brighter.
“Thunder is coming! Dance Fechine!”
“What do we do when the thunder comes?” Fechine shouted into the rain, trying to follow her mother’s steps.
“Shout into it! Give voice to your burden, and let the thunder carry it away,” Islene said, grabbing her daughter’s hands and spinning them both ‘round. “It’s coming! Can you feel it?”
In that moment, she only knew the rain, and the laughter that bubbled up within her. Unable to hold it in, the girl spun in her mother’s arms and laughed.
* * *
A silvery glow sheathed Bhen Rudha’s body as she spun and leapt through the air. She pounded her feet to the beat of the rain, and leapt again, raising her hands high above her head. Lightening flickered in the distance, and she bent her torso back and forth till the far away thunder answered.
In her imagination, her mother danced too, unbent by age or treachery, glowing with her own inner light. Laughter and tears both rose within her, and the Red Woman cried and wept as she moved, feeling cheated that she would never have the opportunity to truly dance with her mother this side of the Wheel.
Lightening arched overhead, and in her ear she heard her mother’s voice, “Shout Fechine! Give it away to the thunder!” A heartbeat later, a deep crack of thunder split the air, and she let loose a keen that was lost in the greater sound.
Bhen Rudha stepped and bowed, stepped and arched backward, stepped and bowed to each side, waiting for the next spear of lightening. Spinning, she saw light and filled her lungs in time to keen into the thunder. The rumble lasted till she saw spots flicker before her eyes and was forced to suck in a ragged breath. Rain came down harder, lashing her body with ferocity. She bared her teeth and launched herself into the air, tucking into a tight flip. When she hit the ground, she sprang forward, over her hands, turn after turn, only to stop and scream into the new peal of thunder.
On and on she went, raging on the ground as the storm raged across the sky, till she had to count too many heartbeats for thunder to follow lightening. The rain also lightened, and now showed signs of stopping. She stood, gasping for breath, feeling weightless and empty. Her mother, reappearing in her imagination, knelt down and hugged a twelve year old version of herself tightly, smiling with nothing but joy. Her younger self wound her arms around her mother’s neck and pressed her cheek into her mother’s dark hair. With a rare feat of strength, Islene picked up her daughter, carried her into the house, laughing.
Bhen Rudha smiled, too empty to grieve at the memory and turned also to the house, letting the soft rain wash the sweat and mud from her suddenly tired body. Once inside, she grabbed a dirty towel and dried herself off as best she could before putting her clothes back on and slipping back down the hallways to her bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head touched down on the pillow.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:47:27 GMT -6
Ahzhia
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Posts: 1
(1/13/04 2:25 pm)
Reply Re: On The Road Again
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Ahzhia was standing in the front entrace to the Inn and took in the environment with one sweep of her piercing grey eyes. They narrowed slightly as she briefly scanned the patrons and servers for her quarry. She didn’t see anyone that stood out to an obvious degree so she moved from the door and took a seat where she could keep most everyone within eyeshot.
Ahzhia traveled light. Her trousers and boots were both made of a creature's fur not native to this land. The fur was long and white though the boots were far from the days of being white. Her top was much more revealing and barely decent made of a white chain metal and little else. Her forearms where covered with a strange blend of fur, chain mail and what looked to be purely decorative metal and jewelry. The only weapons she carried were two swords of exquisite craftsmanship strapped to her back, one long, one short, both of Asian design and influence.
The woman herself would have been beautiful if not for the scowl permanently etched into her face. Her eyes had slight lines around them from the near constant expression of hatred for her fellow man. These grey eyes were set into the features of a Nordic and pale face. Freckles dotted her face like the distant stars of the winter sky. These only became more prominent as they traveled down her neck and into the swell of her chest.
Her facial features were very, very severe and would be undeniably attractive if not for the constant anger etched into her face, punctuated by her thin, high-arching eyebrows which rested below a fire-red mane of tightly curled hair that fell in waves around her face and neck and cascaded to the small of her back.
I wonder if my target is here? Ahzhia thought to herself. Time enough for that later. Most everyone seems to be listening to the performer on the other side of the room. I must admit she is good. Very good. When was the last time I simply listened to music? When was the last time it occured to me to ask that question? Goddess has it been so long? I have been hunting too long. I am so tired...
Ahzhia shook her head, clearing away the dangerous thread of thinking. The hunt will and must continue. For now I am hungry. Ahzhia looked up and tried to get the attention of one of the servers.
(Authors Note: If I’ve made any mistakes I apologize. I read several of the last posts and I believe a couple of the characters are in an inn of some type, hence the intro to my character.)
Edited by: Ahzhia at: 1/13/04 2:36 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:50:51 GMT -6
the chaotrix
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Posts: 103
(1/14/04 4:09 pm)
Reply Omoide: Lessons in Tears
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Sumire felt the cold water flow over her feet as she waded further into the creek. Part of the ritual demanded cleansing before the actual ceremony. With reverence she lowered herself into the water and knelt, feeling the gentle current flow around her. Memories returned, and she welcomed them, letting them become part of the ritual.
~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
“Stop! Back in position!”
The instructor glared at the pairs of young girls as they scrambled back to their positions facing each other. She was dressed as they were; a short white gi top tucked into the pleated skirt-like pants of a warrior. Their stances were corrected by the instructor with a tug at the shoulder or a tap of the foot to a shin, all the while the stern instructions came. “When I say strike at the fullest movement, I mean, you strike when you have gathered your target’s momentum into yourself. At the very moment when the motion between you and your opponent is counted as the same is when you strike. Not before. Not after.. You have to find the moment of perfect stillness within the storm. The calmest point of a hurricane is at it’s center. This is the basis for the Whirlwind technique. This is the only time it will work. Fail this, and you have jeopardized your Lord or Lady. Assassins will not wait for you to correct your ill-timed strikes, they will throw you off and kill your Lord while you watch. Now... Begin again!”
“Stop! ... Yuriko! What are you doing? Why are you holding back?” the sharp voice cut in to the bustling movement like a blade, causing all action to stop.
“I’m sorry, Sumire-sempai! I- I- can’t do it. Chie-chan is so small and I would hurt her if–“ stammered the girl who was obviously a few years older than her partner.
“Enough,” the older girl stopped her stammering as the instructor stepped between and ordered them about “Chie, stand over there please, I will be Yuriko’s partner. ”
Sumire stood across from the girl, who was perhaps twelve years old and lifted an eyebrow. “Am I tall enough for you?” she asked wryly. The students laughed quietly and Yuriko smiled. At this Sumire nodded, indicating the younger girl Chie, who stood apart from them. “I am your assassin and Chie is my target. Defend against me, Guardian of Kageyama.”
Yuriko didn’t have time to register the shock of her new sparring situation before Sumire stepped through her space. When the girl moved to meet her, Sumire dropped to a knee and seemingly turned away. The girl’s momentum brought her on and before she could redirect, Sumire had changed the direction of her pivot, caught her sleeve and pulled Yuriko into her. A fierce palm strike into her solar plexus lifted the girl off her feet. The girl fell and before she could even attempt to draw a breath that wouldn’t come Sumire had stuck the young Chie just as fiercely.
Lifting her voice over the frightened gasps, whimpers and desperate heaves for air, Sumire circled and pointed at the child who was curled up and weeping. Her dark eyes glared at each one in turn and her anger spoke to them all.
“Look there on the fallen royalty of Kageyama! The house has been thrown into turmoil because you have failed! The ripples of war are now at the palace gates because you have failed! The sum of your life is now worthless because you have failed!” The students pushed a circle away from her as she paced.
She came to kneel next to the older girl who was trying to breathe. She spoke softly and calmly, her tone had changed from the fury from moments before. “Yuriko, our world does not care that you are the most gifted artist that Southern Jappa has ever seen. If you pull your strikes in order to save your hands, you will not live long enough to hold a brush again. To learn how to defend is not only to save the life of a prince or a king but extend your own life so that you may continue to create. Art is immortal, kings are not.”
Sumire watched her for a moment more before she went to the younger one who was still curled up making sick weeping noises. Gently rubbing her back she quietly asked, “And why did you not kiai, Chie-chan? Part of a battle is minimizing your enemy’s strike should it land. Cough, Chie. Stop panicking. You are working against you body. Cough. Force the air out first in order to take it in. Cough, now. There.. better. Calm down. It’s all right.” Sumire continued rub her back softly, coaxing the girl to breathe through her sobs. “I’m sorry to make you cry but it is something we need to feel in order to learn. I will teach you Chie, and you will be strong enough to stop something like that from happening again. Please trust that in the end, your tears now will save other’s tears later. I am very sorry.”
“Are you going to make all my young maiko cry before you teach them something, Sumire?”
At hearing the voice, every girl turned and nodded to Lady Akino. A clean chorus of “Okaasan!” met the matriarch as she stepped further into their training area.
Sumire answered softly, “If I must... Yet not as much you made me cry, mother.” A small smile graced her face as she lifted her eyes to Lady Akino.
Lady Akino smiled in turn and nodded. “Ah.. but you did learn.”
“I had no choice.” Still smiling, Sumire helped Chie sit up and wiped her tears.
The dialog continued as Lady Akino gracefully made her way to where Sumire knelt. The matriarch caressed the girl’s face and shook her head. Looking at the girls who stood at rigid attention, she made a noise of disdain and dismissive gestures at them.
“Oh please, you are simply training for the hidden arts. I am not some general and you are young ladies yet. ” when they visibly relaxed Lady Akino looked at Sumire “I see their previous trainer still influences the training halls. I should come about here more often. Sumire, please see that my maiko learn what they need to without becoming stiff soldiers. ”
“Of course, mother,” nodded Sumire with a mild smile.
“Good, good. Beauty and Grace above all things, ” said Akino and she lifted her walking stick and tapped the matt authoritatively. “Here now,” she addressed the girls. “Today’s sessions are over. You have a few hours before dinner and I will even allow a trip to the bath house if you wish.” She laughed at the immediate squeals of delight she heard and waved them out. The girls collectively bowed to Sumire and the matriarch as they collected Yuriko and Chie before rushing out of the training hall. Chuckling after they left, she patted Sumire on the shoulder and nodded toward the exit. “Walk with me in my garden.”
“You are too soft on them,” sighed Lady Akino when they were well out of earshot.
“I know.” Sumire was not at all surprised at the shift in Lady Akino’s opinion, but she was doing her best to train the girls since the burden had fallen on her. She did not offer any more than that and simply began to enjoy the sunlit stroll she found herself in. It was very rare that any kind of training would be set aside for the maiko and geisha. Whatever Lady Akino wanted to talk about, it was important and Sumire had no desire to rush it.
They walked along a path that led away from buildings into a garden that had the look of cultivated neglect. She felt Lady Akino’s eyes on her but she did not turn to acknowledge the gaze. Instead she watched golden insects dodge in and out of shadows and listened to their own footfalls upon gravel.
“Your hair has grown so long,” the older woman commented, her voice wistful. It was, of course, a half-lie. Sumire’s hair was not necessarily longer than any geisha or maiko of the house. It might have been, in fact, shorter. “How long has it been?”
“Four years.” Immediately she did not care for the direction this seemed to be going, so she offered only the answer that Lady Akino already knew and nothing else.
The matriarch nodded as if she were considering something and said finally, “Hrm. Four years since you nearly died.”
“I..” Sumire paused. She wanted to defend herself or even deny it, but to speak further would mean she agreed to this conversation. Which she did not.
Lady Akino, who had been watching her, chuckled softly and said, “If we did not pull you from the rain I think you would have.” She continued walking along the path and shook her head as she recalled, “Playing your flute and koto three days in the rain...One would think it was you who brought the storm.” The matriarch lifted a frosty eyebrow as she looked back at Sumire who was no longer walking beside her. “Perhaps you did...”
The older woman’s expression was a mixture of bemusement and sympathy. Sumire hated it, so she turned away and muttered. “I was not myself.”
Lady Akino watched Sumire a while longer and then turned to idly run her fingers over the leaves of one of the plants in the garden. “Oh. I think you were. I think that no one else could have felt as you did.” Satisfied with the health felt in the plant’s foliage, she made her way back to Sumire as she continued “No one else could possibly bear the weight of Sayoko’s death the way you did.”
It felt like her memories were foxes being chased by hounds. She vowed herself to silence, only to hear herself stammer, “She was.. She was a fool to have let it come to that.”
A sigh came from Lady Akino upon hearing Sumire’s words “Saa.. Still with that, eh? She was the best of us all. And if she had stolen our hearts in her living and in her death broken them, then yours must have died with her.”
Edited by: the chaotrix at: 1/14/04 6:53 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:52:57 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 103
(1/14/04 4:09 pm)
Omoide: Lessons in Tears (Continued)
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The hunted had been cornered and was now being torn apart by the hounds. Sumire’s mind swam for anything that she could say that would turn the woman aside. This was something she refused to talk about. She faced the old woman sharply. “Lady Akin–“
“Sumire.” The command in the matriarch’s voice immediately silenced her words and held control of the conversation. “I accepted whatever you did to bear with the loss. Abandoning your health: there were days we were certain your lungs would drown with the sickness you put on yourself. You were not even fighting! In mourning it is not the Kageyama geisha’s privilege to cut our hair. It is by Lady Kageyama’s grace and my influence that I was able to have a those wigs fashioned for you.” The woman’s voice trembled now as she looked up at Sumire. “But for how you treated us after, we may have been dead as well!”
Sumire’s face smoothed of all expression and she lifted her chin to watch birds flit in and out of the garden. She spoke distantly. “The Geisha of noble House Kageyama do not have the luxury of ordinary lives. We bear hardship with grace and dignity. We answer adversity with smiles and poetry. I have ever been a proud servant of Kageyama even with.. even when Sayoko.” Hearing herself say that name brought her back from that distance “I- I did cut my hair.. I was just-“ She turned to Akino now, seeking her eyes. “Please understand that after that I was resolute. I would never fail Kageyama the way she did. I–“ She was fighting now to find words that pleaded...pleaded for something.
Lady Akino’s voice reached her, and it too spoke of what it was to be geisha. “A servant of Kageyama must be sound in body, mind.. and spirit. As eloquently as you played your instruments; as profoundly as you delved into your studies; as exquisitely as you courted your guests, and as diligently as you perfected your fighting skills, you were never whole. Do you think perfection hides the broken spirit so well that your sisters wouldn’t hurt for you, or feel for you or miss you? You closed us off. Your sister geisha are your family. You walked among us, but you no longer lived with us. You never came back from wandering out into that storm that you called.” She attempted to take her daughter’s hands in hers but Sumire slowly curled them into fists and drew them to her chest.
Striving to be the very best of her profession had saved her. So hard had she fought to remain strong and resolute. And yet all her years in training could never prepare her for some things. She called again on the beliefs that held her upright. “I am a geisha of Kage-“
Taking Sumire’s face in her hands, Lady Akino looked into her eyes and whispered intently, “Before you are geisha, before you are a defender of Kageyama, you are a woman. And even before you are woman, you are human,” when she knew that she had Sumire’s attention she continued, “Remember your humanity, Sumire. All else springs from that.”
She thought she could bear Lady Akino’s kind touch. She thought she could bear the sound of words breaking in her mother’s voice. But when she heard the last words spoken to her, she was stung with cold fire, and pulled out of Lady Akino’s grasp, recoiling as if struck.
Lady Akino watched Sumire and sighed softly. “You think it unfair that I should use Sayoko’s words on you. How long since her passing have you lived without them? You never speak of her. You never visit her shrine. Do you talk to her or even think of her?”
Sumire swiped the air as if she could strike away the words being thrown at her. Angrily she snarled, “Her actions brought her death! And quite possibly it could’ve been all of ours! How could you forgive her for abandoning something so important? How can someone who thought only of herself be so worthy of time in my memory!!”
The older woman did not let the angry words deter her own. “She was the Words, and you the Music. Together you were a Song. Is it so hard to remember a Song?”
Such poetry in memory of a poet was infuriating. As if she could drown it out, she screamed her reply, “She was an idiot!”
Lady Akino looked at Sumire sadly. “So.. The music has died and the words fall without that soft breeze to lift them.”
Wiping furiously at tears she hissed, “Why now, mother? Why are you bothering me about this now?”
A seat carved from a single log was nearby and Lady Akino eased herself down to sit with an exhausted sigh. “On this I have always sought after you, Sumire. But you have never heard me. I have never used such direct language until now. It is tiresome and too much trouble for an old woman like me. But am I not stronger than I look? Are you not stronger than you know, Sumire? I cannot imagine what it is like for you to bear such burden and not share it.”
The hand that was lifted to Sumire drew from her an ache that she had not expected and could not deny. It was terrifying to need so much. She felt like running away but instead her feet took her to Lady Akino. As she went to her knees, her mother took her head into her lap and soothed her as she wept.
Though she knew Sumire would probably not hear her she whispered “And if I must, I will make you cry to teach you something, my daughter.”
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Edited by: the chaotrix at: 1/14/04 6:53 pm
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1865
(1/16/04 1:08 am)
Reply
Gatherings
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When she left the Inn, the village marketplace was pulsing with the rhythm of sellers and buyers hocking their wares and haggling over prices. There were stalls offering meats; both dried and fresh, stalls boasting fish “so fresh it’s still flopping”, fruit and vegetable stands, pottery and copper wares, silks, trinkets, and almost anything else imaginable. The street was crowded, and this time the suspicion among villagers directed towards the women at Kaisa’s was something Phalon nearly welcomed. It granted her a wide berth to walk through as the crowd parted when she came near. This, she accepted with silent gratitude from those who feared her differentness. It’s benefit was twofold; first it allowed her to move more quickly towards Kaisa’s home, not having to lose time wading through the mass of people, and secondly, it prevented her from being jostled around in the crowd, which always lent itself to the possibility of becoming overwhelmed with stolen emotions of those to whom she came in contact.
Large gatherings were difficult for Phalon, and she tried to avoid them. When she could not, she was usually assaulted with a barrage of images from those surrounding her. It was too much at once, the images flying rapidly in her head until they became a blur, and she often felt crushed by the weight of those unwanted glimpses into lives of people she did not know.
She kept a quick pace, scarcely noticing the whispers, or looks of trepidation on the faces of those who backed away from her as she passed. Her only thought was to get home and warn the others of an attack that may, or may not happen. If the attack did come, she knew the Romans would stop at nothing to find what they were searching for. Lives of the villagers would not be spared in their quest for Evergreen. Innocent lives would be destroyed…the lives of these people here, going about their daily business in the marketplace, unaware of what may soon befall them in the name of a house torn in Rome. If only she knew for sure…they could then be warned – leave town if they chose, or prepare to fight, if that was their wish. Was the threat real, or was the fear unwarranted? What would happen to them – these people – caught in a war they did not court, and were not a part of?
Her pace slowed a bit as she began to look upon the faces, the young and the aged, the naive and the learned, all unaware of the bloodshed they may soon encounter. Her empathy grew and as it did, she began to ache with the thought of the lives that would be lost, and the lives that would be destroyed of those that were left behind. She had the urge to reach out and touch the faces of those she passed, to comfort them somehow… That was it! Of course it was! All she had to do to find out if the attack would happen, would be to steal a glimpse into their minds. She raised her arm, palm open. All she had to do was reach…out…and…touch…someone…
WHAM!!!
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
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” he screeched in return. His body tensed and the shabby pieces of mismatched leather armor that he wore nearly fell from his scrawny body. “You should know me!! I was there! I was there!!”