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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:54:13 GMT -6
gabbin
Registered Member
Posts: 776
(1/17/04 10:59 pm)
Reply
Re: Gatherings
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Frieda picked up her hand mitt and then swiveled the teapot away from the fire, she carefully felt for her cup and filled the cup using the tip of her finger to know when to stop pouring. Setting the tea down on the table she adjusted the shawl around her shoulders feeling, as she did so, the soft rabbit/wool mix with small flecks of gold woven in. The soft gold had been a sweater-payment that Frieda had hammered into a thin metal and cut into small strips to weave into the shawl. It was never worn outside but, only in the house, when only she was present. The gold absorbed the heat from the fire and she could feel its warmth against her neck.
Frieda remembered gold-the warmth of it and its glow, although the color had faded from her memory a bit, the power of it had not. The sea off of the shores in the morning had been gold. The color of some of her family ale was gold. Gold meant family and home to Frieda, the power of family, not wealth, the power of a loving family. Gone now.
A transparent tear circulating saline rolled and left a silver streak down her cheek. She wiped it away along with the memories. Now her mind went to pondering the business. So lucky to be doing what she loved but, for how long? Could she do it for the rest of her life on present terms? The townsfolk seem to still be forming opinions about her and her owning a business. It was not a foregone conclusion as to whether she would continue to be accepted, being one of the more prosperous people in town-that was always a dangerous thing. The thought of leaving and starting up in a bigger city had crossed her mind, but, that as a very difficult and scary propostition, itself.
The tea was done and so Frieda arose and removed her shawl, replaced it with a slightly rougher textured wool one and prepared to go out for more oil for her loom-for it was beginning to squeak and slow. Frieda felt for her walking stick and soundly shut the door before leaving. As always, Frieda froze outside the door listening, breathing, feeling the environment before preceding. She strolled off hitting rocks and raising dust as she went.
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 1878
(1/18/04 7:18 am)
Reply
Anointment
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She braced herself for the jolt of images that were to enter her mind as she prepared to touch those she passed in the marketplace…just a brush on the elbow would do. If the visions she saw were of destruction and war, the townsfolk must be warned. They must prepare. If she saw nothing of war, well then, maybe Evergreen was with Zena, and Leara’s army had been called off. She raised her arm, outstretched… All she had to do was touch someone…
WHAM!!!
She wasn’t prepared for a jolt quite that hard, and it sent her reeling backwards as if she had hit an actual physical presence. The feeling of impact left her teetering on her feet, and jarred her senses. A warm, thick film enveloped her, and she felt smothered by it. Blood. She could feel it on her, was covered in it…it felt so real… It meant, she was sure, that destruction was on its way. Horrified, she brought her hands up and pressed at her temples, wishing it away.
No, no, no…Wait…What was this? Her fingers on her temples felt slippery and oily. She wasn’t engulfed in blood spilled by the hands of the Romans in any vision. This was a real substance of some kind that covered her. She shook her head to clear her mind, and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and saw that she had actually collided with something.
She’d been too busy looking at those in the crowd to the side of her, searching their faces, to pay any attention to what lie in front of her. In her carelessness, she had run into a woman and knocked her down, but not before whatever the woman was carrying spilled and covered them both. She laid on the ground now, the poor woman, sprawled in the dirt.
Slowly, the woman got to her knees and the shawl covering her head and shoulders fell away, revealing a mass of fiery locks. By the Gods, she’d run into the blind weaver she’d met last night. Frieda Rose!
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:58:04 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 107
(1/19/04 5:02 am)
Reply Omoide: To Serve Kageyama
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~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
After a while Sumire regained her composure and remained sitting at Lady Akino’s feet. As the older woman ran her hands through Sumire’s hair they both looked past the northeast end of the garden to the misted valleys in the distance. The afternoon was reaching its golden hours, where sunlight slanted just so and stroked everything with its gilded touch. The fog in the valleys now looked like a pond of frozen fire captured in a verdant bowl. For a long time, neither dared break the dreamlike vision with words.
The colors waned only a little once the sun had set. Lady Akino chose then to talk. “One would never know it to look on the glory of Kageyama or Noboyuki, or even distant Kurokawa to the north, that there was a time before the rise of the Warrior Lords of Jappa when women truly held power. It was the women of Jappa who developed writing and even wrote our first histories. Art and Poetry sprung from the woman’s hand. And music... Our first Empress–“
“Empress Misao brought the samisen and koto to life.” Sumire finished quietly.
The soft smile that Lady Akino returned to Sumire became wistful “Is it so terrible to wish for such times to visit us again?”
Although she knew it was a rhetorical question Sumire found herself trying to answer, “History-“
“History is made by the living. Sayoko knew this,” cut off Lady Akino, almost curtly. Though it was not necessarily a reprimand Sumire curbed anything she might have said then. Though she felt the cry had drained her, there was still a stirring of resentment. It seemed unjustified so she quelled it in order to continue listening to what Lady Akino had to say.
“As always there is change. The seasons promise it. Time demands it. We must change with it or break against it.” Hearing such words from Lady Akino made Sumire shift from leaning against her to turning and looking up at her. Whatever was to come was why the maiko were released from their training. It was why Lady Akino confronted her. At seeing Sumire’s questioning eyes the matriarch continued, “I remember the woman who was responsible for what the Kageyama Geisha have become today. She was an old woman in her last years, and I was not even a maiko yet. But for all her years and the greeness of mine, I could see in her the fire which must have been fearsome in her youth. She was the first geisha to do more than just throw her life at her Lord’s feet.”
Sumire stifled a sigh; she knew the stories, but she listened as Lady Akino recounted the beginnings just the same.
“The Court life at Kageyama has been as flamboyant and opulent as long as can be remembered. Strong warlords brought about long years of prosperity and the royalty has wanted to shout this to the gods and so they surrounded themselves with the finest things. They came to intimidate their rivals with their opulence as much as their armies. Thus, came the role of the geisha. A Lord who strolled about nonchalantly with artists and concubines at his side rather than a handful of body guards must be mighty indeed, to be so fearless. They lived like gods, they appeared as gods.
“Such a carefully cultivated image had its drawbacks. It drew assassins like dogs to a fresh bone. What did the men care that the women were now burdened with being bodyguards as well as fine possessions? They were never trained, they were simply expected to intercept the fate of their self declared demigods. Which they did. It is said that the inner courts knew as much death as the battle field, but like any battle where the general or lord returns to rule another day, it is counted as a success. How many artist and poet lives were consumed simply to maintain an image? A figurehead? An undeserving man? It wasn’t until a lord fell in love with his escort, that the role of the Kageyama Geisha turned. Due to other stately commitments he could not marry her but he refused to see her simply throw her life away for him. He taught her how to defend herself as well as him. She in turn, taught her sisters.
“When the rest of the House saw how effective this had become, they all wanted their own specially trained geisha. The Geisha that walked with the royalty of Kageyama would learn how to turn away any attack thrown at their Lords, provided the world remain ignorant of their special abilities. And so the House built it’s own okiya and ochaya within it’s palace grounds, well enough away from the public eye.
“Today the role of this House’s geisha will change yet again. Our lives are tied to those of the House. And so when there are ripples within this pond, invariably, our toes will get wet.” It looked like Lady Akino would go on but the sound of footfalls made her pause.
“Ah, but if it were only just the toes getting wet instead of the falling sleeves of your kimonos I would not worry so much,” came another woman’s voice as she walked down a path that led to the small sitting area where Lady Akino and Sumire sat.
There was a relaxed tension that settled over them, because Sumire was geisha and trained to handle anything, as she knew Lady Akino to be. But to see who came into view surprised her more than she would have ever thought. “Our pond seems more like it is alive with starving koi frothing over a single crumb,” said Lady Kageyama ruefully.
Instinct overcame her surprise and she lowered herself into a kowtow without hesitation. “Kageyama-sama! We are a disturbance to your evening stroll.”
The most honored woman in all of South Jappa was in the company of two geisha that were dressed in colors that accented the Lady’s layered gown perfectly. The Lady smiled at her own escorts appreciatively, and then turned to Sumire and Lady Akino as she spoke, “The Royal Geisha have blessed our House with pure bloodlines and long lives. A debt that can never be repaid...and yet I come to you demanding more. I am truly the nuisance.”
“Kageyama-sama! Not at all! We will retire so that you m–“
“You will not leave. I do not give permission for you to do so.” The Lady dismissed her geisha escort with a nod. They bowed and took their leave silently. She then addressed Sumire again, “I came to talk to you.”
“My L-Lady, Forgive me for suggesting so, but Lady Akino will surely attend your audience. I...I am unpresentable.” From the moment she felt Lady Kageyama’s eyes fall on her, Sumire was acutely aware that she was dressed in the clothes of a soldier –a man. She had no make-up on, her hair was undone. She was an absolute mess. She would have preferred to be stark naked than appear as she did now in front of The Lady. There was also the expectation that Lady Akino might speak up at any moment to smooth over such a terribly inappropriate display, but there came no assistance from Lady Akino. Lowering her head to the ground was the only way to hide her face that burned in shame.
“No. I am glad to find you this way. It gives me confidence to speak to you so frankly and without reserve. Besides, I have already spoken to Lady Akino and she has heard me. It is you I must talk to..”
The pressure of firm fingers under her chin lifted her head. She saw now that Lady Kageyama knelt in front of her. “It is you I must appeal to...”
Sumire’s eyes widened at the situation and she shook her head helplessly. The royalty of Kageyama should never kneel before anyone. There was nowhere lower to place herself, she couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say.
“Be still, Sumire. Kageyama begs a favor of their geisha when they have already expect so much. Will you hear me?” The Lady insisted as she gently pushed Sumire to sit up, so they could face each other. For lack of anything else Sumire nodded mutely.
Kageyama ‘Appealing’ to her? ‘Begging a favor’ of her? Sumire was completely baffled. The House does not ‘ask’ anything of their servants. It expects and commands whatever it pleases. She couldn’t understand this dreadful twist in etiquette.
“I have known you all these years as one of my escorts and an entertaining presence at court. Would it not be for our roles, I might consider you an acquaintance; or even a friend. But as we all know, such relationships are not the luxury of the Lady of Kageyama. Still, I feel that what I am about to ask of you is unfair.”
Sumire’s heart sank by degrees as she heard her queen talking in such a way. She knew that she would do whatever it was that Kageyama asked of her. She did not fear that. But to hear Lady Kageyama put herself on such a level was distressing. There was nothing to do but dutifully listen.
“You must know the trouble that my third son Daisuke is. Of course you would, you have been in his company enough to defend him a time or two. He has always been lost within the shadows of his older brothers, Taro and Jiro and is always trying to impress The Lord of Kageyama with his outrageous exploits. My husband is no help in the matter either. He only gives him the barest morsels of attention, largely ignoring him without the appearance of doing so. Well now, the boy has become a man and is demanding more than his birthright.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 0:58:51 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 107
(1/19/04 5:02 am)
Omoide: To Serve Kageyama (Continued)
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“Years ago, before Higuchi had been burned to the ground by some rumored demon-woman of the western world, Kageyama had been looking to extend its borders to include that port town. But because of its distance from the seat of the throne, Kageyama released its interest, and went on to more profitable, controllable conquests. Now Daisuke has taken with this outlandish idea to gain Higuchi through the same power that brought it to the ground. For years he has studied and investigated the incidents at Higuchi and claims that it was no demon, but simply a woman who had powers that are worth stealing. He insists that if he can gain these powers he would wield them in Kageyama’s name. My husband, whether by sincerity or by simply patronizing Daisuke claimed that if those powers were brought back from the West, he would give him Higuchi to rule. It could be that the Lord Kageyama intends to gain Higuchi, but sadly, I think my husband intends to free himself of Daisuke’s pestering for a while. No one really believes that a single woman could have brought down an entire city by herself, except Daisuke.
“I have asked why they would not send a spy or some soldier to gain this western treasure, but Daisuke is ambitious and wants to be the one to bring back this woman or her powers.
“My Lord will send Daisuke to foreign lands, and Daisuke, young fool that he is, will not take retainers or bodyguards. I have begged My Lord and Daisuke to reconsider...but they would only agree to a single guardian. And on that, I insisted it must be you.” Lady Kageyama took Sumire’s hand in both of hers before she continued, “Though my son is an ambitious child, I still would not see him sent away to certain death so casually. Please, see after Daisuke, Sumire.” The look that Lady Kageyama gave Sumire was imploring. It hurt to see that naked expression on the face of such a regal woman. She felt that she should look away upon seeing The Lady’s eyes brim with tears.
“Just as I trusted Sayoko that night she saved my life, I trust you with the life of my son.” The ache that pierced her at hearing those words was lost in others as Lady Kageyama continued, “If I should not see my son return from these foreign lands, you will know the highest honor I can give you: Your place along side Sayoko, within the Royal Family’s shrines.”
Sumire’s response was automatic, though her voice felt thick, ”You had only to command me, My Lady. It will be done.”
Upon hearing Sumire’s acceptance, Lady Kageyama took a shaky breath and gave a single nod. A bow. “Thank you so much.”
“Not at all, Lady. It is an honor to serve,” whispered Sumire.
“And may we please escort you back to the ochaya, Lady Kageyama?” suggested Lady Akino as she moved to gently assist Lady Kageyama to stand. “It’s not very good, but perhaps some tea before Tomoe and Keiko join you again to escort you to the palace?”
“Mmm. Well, I am sure your tea is not that bad.” The three traded smiles and began walking along the garden paths. The land’s best tea blends were always served at Lady Akino’s teahouse.
As they walked back to the ochaya they spoke lightly of trivial things and even laughed a little. It was as if the intensity earlier in the evening had not occurred at all.
Once Lady Kageyama departed in the company of her geisha escorts, Sumire sat upon the porch of the teahouse, quietly reflective. Lady Akino’s voice brought her from her thoughts.
“You remember the Merchant Lord from the West, Falkan?”
“Yes.” She puzzled at the question. She remembered the man from Greece, she had met fleetingly while entertaining a couple of afternoons half a year ago. Something about the matriarch’s voice told her this was no piece of idle gossip.
“Good. He will be here soon enough. You are to entertain him while he is here,” spoke Lady Akino matter of factly. Sumire nodded. This was not the voice of the woman she called mother, it was the voice of the woman who directed the Geisha of Kageyama and orchestrated their placement and time throughout the palace and ochaya. She set the rhythm that they would step to in the courtly dance. “And you will present yourself in such a way that you linger in his memory. Find out what his favorite indulgences are and play to them within limits. I want you to captivate his interest, but remain inaccessible.” Sumire nodded once. She was well versed in this particular dance. “On the last day of his stay, you will be in the room when he enters a game of chance with someone he thinks is one of our lesser Lords. The stakes will be high, and when Falkan wins in an upset, our Lord will balk and instead throw you out as the prize. You will be allowed to leave with Falkan on the condition that you must take with you a single bodyguard. Lord Daisuke will play this role. Thus our young ambitious Lord will have his bodyguard when he goes in search of this legendary warrior woman that single-handedly brought Higuchi to the ground. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Okaasan,” said Sumire quietly. So already there had been a plan.
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, Okaasan.”
“Very well. You will have a day, perhaps two at the most, before Falkan is here. Weapons Master Asagiri is preparing what you will need. Please see him as soon as you may.”
“Yes, Okaasan.” She inclined a nod to Lady Akino and stood. “I have much to prepare for, then. I will take my leave, Lady Akino. Good evening.” Suddenly she wanted to be alone.
“Sumire.” Lady Akino, did not bid her a good evening in return, but instead pinned her where she stood. The matriarch’s voice was quieter, but somehow more intent. “Lord Daisuke may be ambitious, but his heart is set on the advancement of Kageyama. If this warrior woman actually exists and yet he is unable to gain what powers he can from her, it falls on you to decide the fate of Kageyama in foreign lands. I cannot know what you face, but know you have not failed until you reach Kageyama with empty hands.” with that Lady Akino turned “Good Night.” She did not wait for Sumire to respond before she walked away.
“Understood, Okaasan,” she said quietly to herself. It felt now as if she had been walking in a dream from the time she left the training hall. Her emotions had since been bottled and numbed, that she looked on this evening in a distant kind of wonder. So perfectly positioned. So skillfully manipulated.
It had been years since she had entertained the memory of Sayoko’s words, but now her memory brought a long forgotten warning. “Sumire, be wary of Lady Akino. Never doubt Okaasan’s love for us. It is as true and sincere as anything one might ever feel, but understand her motivations are driven by more than by pure love for her girls. She too is wrapped up in the machinations of what it is to be a servant of Kageyama. Love and Loyalty might mean the same thing to some people but they are not. There are sometimes when you must split them apart and choose between the two. . . The same can be said of Position and Power.”
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:00:58 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 108
(1/22/04 3:16 am)
Reply Omoide: Sister Story (part I)
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Her mind was far away in memories as she bathed. She never noticed that the water was just a touch colder than the air. Instead she imagined that recalling things that weighed her down must be part of the ritual. To let her mind be cleansed as well as body.. It was well enough, unpleasant memories would not be much of a burden soon, so she could stand to face them just once more.
She rose from the stream and walked to the carpet of grass she chose as her bed. There she had already arranged those items she needed according to tradition. Taking her kimono from a tree she began to dress languidly, enjoying the feel and weight of silk as if it was the first time she wore it. Once garbed, she then began to brush her hair, sitting a pace or two off from where she would finally kneel. Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds of the forest and stream. Memories within memories visited her.
~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
The sun was a few hours from rising, and yet it felt to Sumire that that was much too soon. She could not sleep, and so she stood in the darkest hours of dawn alone on a bridge in the gardens. No other hour of the day was as quiet. She thought that if she could escape the soft sounds of her sisters sleeping around her, she could find herself a place to think. It was the morning of her Erikae O Suru -the turning of the collar. The ritual where she would remove the red collar of the maiko and don the white collar of the Geisha. It was only to be expected that a maiko would not be able to sleep on the eve that she would become Geisha, but it was not excitement that kept her at this hour. It was something very different... it was sorrow and dread.
Memories would not let her be. It seemed very important for her to remember these things, for she would not experience them again.
~ * ~
She remembered when she was first maiko. When she was much younger and her name was Midori. She had not been able to sleep the night before Sansun-kudo, the boding ceremony between maiko and geisha, either. Ever since she had found out that she had been chosen as the maiko that would be bound to the renowned Geisha, Sayoko she was elated and terrified. She couldn’t understand why she would be the one chosen to be the protégé to Sayoko.
The Sansun-kudo was often compared to a marriage in its significance and pageantry. It was something that Sumire had been dreading because she always felt herself clumsy and awkward.
At one point during the event, the maiko must take three sips of sake from the same saucer that the geisha did. Sumire was so nervous that she nearly spilled the tiny saucer of sake that Sayoko passed to her. Before she could fumble, Sayoko’s steadying hand was under hers, steadying her, and the geisha had made it seem as smooth and graceful as if it had been some prescribed move of the ritual. Sayoko merely smiled and whispered something soothing under her breath. Sumire could never remember what was said because the warmth of that smile had taken her. The silent laughter in those knowing eyes, told Sumire it was all going to be all right. Sayoko had promised in that smile that she would take care of her and there was no cause to fear.
When it came to the point in the ceremony where the geisha gave her maiko a new name based on her own, Sayoko did not follow the code of ritual. Instead she reached to the side and brought forward a parchment and brush. She wrote a few characters, read it, glanced at Midori and shook her head. “I am sorry. I am no good with words. It is an incomplete verse. Will you finish it?” She then turned the paper toward Midori and handed her the brush. Sayoko waited while Midori puzzled over the single line:
born ‘neath loom of night
After a bit Midori carefully wrote the next two lines and then handed the brush to Sayoko.
foxes smile and tease the moon
violets stir from sleep
When Sayoko read the haiku she covered her mouth and laughed. Midori face flushed and she began to turn away but Sayoko caught her hands. “Ah! No no! That will not do. Look here. Do not be embarrassed. I did not expect you to be so clever, little sister! You have done well in choosing your name. From now on my little sister will be known as Sumire.” Violet.
Again the laughing eyes and smile that was infectious. After that Sumire relaxed and enjoyed the event immensely. And she calmed enough to watch and appreciate how Sayoko made slight deviations from such a tightly ordained ritual that she drew whispers of concern and admiration both from attendees.
The Sansun-kudo became the celebration of their bonding that it was supposed to be. The parts of the ceremony were they danced or sang together became dreamlike in its elegance and beauty because Sayoko guided her through it effortlessly. It has become everything she expected it to be and more. It been one of the moments in her life that shined every time she recalled it.
~ * ~
Sumire felt like she would be sick and her sobs choked her so that she could barely breathe. Someone grabbed at her and she struggled against it, pleading to be let go. The terror and misery was unbearable. She trembled as a pair of hands pulled and dragged her up. There was rushed movement, screams and shouts all round. For all the chaos she was blind and deaf to everything except his eyes.
She could still see his eyes. At first deadly cold with malice, and then wide with shock as he gurgled something through the slash in his throat before he pitched forward onto her. His hands knotted into the silk of her kimono as he slid down, painting her with his blood. His eyes pleaded with her as he knew his life was slipping away. He had too many regrets. He was alone. He was afraid...
The memory, only moments old, slammed her in the stomach and she jerked away from the one who held her and she vomited. While she heaved someone was holding her. Someone was speaking to her through the haze of echoes that was the assassin’s death gurgle. She felt like she was drowning in the living nightmare. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she was laying somewhere else, much quieter. A cool cloth wiped her face. That steady voice was still with her. Sayoko was still with her. She had been by her side the entire time. They had both fought and killed assassins. Sumire had taken a life. Her vision of Sayoko blurred as the misery of the thought brought fresh tears. Sayoko reached to comfort her but Sumire recoiled and pushed her away.
“No! NO! I can not!”
Sayoko watched her sympathetically and said softly, “I’m sorry, but you did, Musume-bun. You moved and wielded the fighting fan perfectly. You did what you had to. There is no shame in performing your duty.”
Sumire curled into a corner trying to hide from the sounds she heard in her head and Sayoko’s words. She opened her eyes to see the blood-bathed kimono she wore and whimpered and tore at it frantically. Sayoko was on her in an instant, arms wrapped around her tightly.
“Sumire! Stop! Please just stop! Shhh! It’s all right. Hush.. Hush..”
The struggle against Sayoko’s greater strength was brief. She cried out weakly and then dissolved into sobbing. “I killed him! I killed him! I took his life.”
“Yes. I know you did, Musume-bun” soothed Sayoko “I was with you then. I am with you now. You will never be alone in this.”
“I can not! I can not do this again! Please do not make me! Please, Onesan!”
“Sumire. Hush. Look at me.” Sayoko wiped her tears and continued firmly , “You saved a man’s life. You cannot see it right now, but you’ve granted life. You saved the life of Kageyama’s heir.”
It made no difference. Sumire shook her head and moaned, “I can’t do this. It hurts so much. We shouldn’t have to do this, Onesan. My spirit will die if I - if I- ...”
Sayoko caressed Sumire’s cheek and she nodded. Sumire realized that Sayoko too, was crying, “Yes, I know, my little sister. We are makers of music and song.. We are poets and dancers... We shouldn’t have to spill blood with the same hand that creates a beautiful world in a painting, but this we must. And in doing so, it makes our creations all the more poignant and eternal, for we have known all the joy and horror of living this life. As long as you still have a song in you, Sumire, your spirit will not succumb to this. You can live through this. You must. ” Sumire had known the inevitable truth, but hearing her Older Sister say it made her crumple into Sayoko’s arms helplessly.
It would seem to Sumire that there would be no end to her despair. She felt ashamed. Finally lifting her head to Sayoko she apologized. “Onesan, I am so weak! I do nothing but cry. How can you stand me? How am I deserving of your patience?”
Feeling Sayoko’s knowing smile turned on her comforted her as much as her words. “The Power of Kageyama is two-fold: What is won in war by the power of the Lord's hand is held in peace by the grace of the Lady's hand...Think, my sister: that quote does not only apply to the Lady Kageyama herself, but all of us as the hidden protectors of the royal family. Do you realize what would have happened if Lord Taro would have been slain? It would have upset the balance. We would be pitched into the smaller wars that lead to the greater wars. It was your swift hand tonight that has prolonged the peace of Kageyama's reign. Even when you weep, little sister, you are stronger than you know.
“You mustn’t be afraid of your tears, Musume-bun. It is because you cry, because you hurt for what has happened tonight, that lets me know I chose the right person to be my little sister. You cry because you are human. You have remembered your humanity, Sumire. All else springs from that.”
~ * ~
Edited by: the chaotrix at: 1/22/04 3:19 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:03:23 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 109
(1/22/04 4:26 am)
Reply Omoide: Sister Story (part II)
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~ * ~
Even though their practice swords were wrapped and padded in dark cloth, the impact of the swords striking against each other jarred Sumire’s arms through to the shoulder.
“Too stiff! Bend and slip more!” hissed Sayoko as she faded out of range and circled. “Keep your touch lighter. I want to see you try that whip-strike off a parry.” She made a gesture with her off hand Are you ready? Sumire shifted her stance slightly and gave a nod. They started the dance again.
They were two dancers in the gloomiest hours of night, circling, diving in and out of vicious exchanges. Each one wrapped in dark cloth, like their practice swords, to keep them hidden within the shadowed grove they practiced in. Unlike warriors that might shout or grunt in the height of their exercise, the women were as silent as their swords. They stepped silently and controlled their breathing, even though they had masked their lower faces with scarves to muffle the slightest pants or gasps. Hidden from sight and moving in near silence they practiced deep in the woods, under shroud of night. Against one of the foremost laws of the land, the women held swords and learned how to use them.
They did this every chance they could. It had started after Sumire had discovered Sayoko practicing alone.
There had been rumors that Sayoko had a secret lover that she would see frequently. Sumire readily dismissed it until she began to notice when Sayoko would steal away some nights. Seeing the evidence was one thing, but having the advantage of being Sayoko’s maiko, allowed her to observe closer. It did not seem like Sayoko was enjoying having a secret lover. The days after she would return she would seem tired.. but not relaxed, and sometimes even frustrated. Obtuse questioning did nothing to gain her insight. Sayoko was much too good at wordplay to give anything away. It made Sumire wonder, until the curiosity was too much. She followed Sayoko one night and found out Sayoko’s love was the sword. At the moment when Sumire thought she would sneak back home to ponder this, the whistling of a bokan slicing through air stopped her immediately. The blow she expected never fell. When she opened her eyes the practice sword was an inch from her nose. “So. You have found me. What will you do now, Musume-bun?” asked Sayoko quietly as she lowered the wooden sword. In the end she let Sumire decide their fate.
Taking every precaution they could think of, they developed a system that would allow them to practice several hours a night, as many nights a week as they could manage. They would each steal away at different times.
One afternoon while they sat at tea, Sayoko watched Sumire for a bit before asking. “If you continue frowning like that you will age before your time, little sister.”
“There are rumors.” sighed Sumire, trying to pretend like it did not bother her.
“Aren’t there always?” came Sayoko’s dry reply.
“These.. are about us.” Though she fought to keep her face non-chalant, Sumire could feel her brows draw together.
“Oh.. really.” Smirked Sayoko, as she sipped her tea.
“They say we are lovers.” Sumire shook her head, giving up her fight to keep her expression carefree.
“Of course.” Shrugged Sayoko but when she saw Sumire’s expression she arched a brow asking, “And this bothers you.”
“It’s not true.” spat Sumire.
“But it bothers you that they would think so.”
“Yes. It does.”
“Then correct them. Tell them what we really do.” Sayoko calmly challenged as she lowered her cup.
Sumire opened her mouth to say something and then just snapped it shut.
“Musume-bun, No one will speak of it in polite conversation because that sort of thing is just not spoken of if you are to be considered a person of poise and refinement. And for those uncouth fools who would love nothing more than spread rumors, let them wag their tongues. All we need to do is act as we are, for the most part. A seed planted here, ‘a carelessly’ dropped expression within hearing of the right ears there, will do more than all the effort we’ve put into concealing the true nature of our outings so far. Not all rumors are bad things. Sometimes they can work for you.”
~ * ~
The memories were strong ones. Memories that brought the warmth of fondness. But now she found herself profoundly melancholoy as she stood alone in the penumbral darkness on that garden bridge. She wanted to shake that damnable feeling. She wanted to be happy, but it felt like a lie.
“Maa, Such a sad face on the morning of such an important day.” Sayoko ‘s voice startled her, but her training had at least prevented her from giving outward evidence. Sumire saw Sayoko’s eyes narrow in a grin of appreciation for her calm.
“Onesan- you cannot sleep either?” Sumire worked on erasing whatever expression must have revealed her turmoil to Sayoko.
Sayoko lifted a finger “Ah.. There is no need to call me that any longer. From this morning on I am not your older sister.”
“Of course. That is all changing now isn’t it?” It wasn’t really a question. Sumire turned to look over the gardens. This was exactly what the hurt originated from. She didn’t want to admit it. “But, One-, Sayoko-san, I–“
“Please, call me Sayoko. You are my equal now, Sumire.” Sumire could only bare a slight glance at the open smile Sayoko directed at her.
“But.. I am still not. There is still the ceremony,” she insisted.
Sayoko laughed quietly and shook her head. “The ceremony is just that: a ceremony. I have considered you more than maiko for a long while now. I have taught you nearly everything I know -and you have absorbed and applied it magnificently. This day has been a long time in coming.. but it is only a day of ceremony. You have been geisha in my eyes for quite some time.”
“..Sayoko.. “ Sumire intended to say more but she didn’t know where to start.
“Ah. That was not so hard, was it?” Sayoko turned the opposite direction to watch the lightening of the sky over the clay tiles of the roof of the okiya. She leaned back letting the bridge support her as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I have watched you grow into a woman, Sumire. You have unparalleled grace and beauty. You turn heads and elicit whispers. Many have been waiting for this day.”
Sayoko turned her head to watch Sumire glance down at herself. In the dark of the morning it would be impossible to see Sumire blush, but she could tell. She knew her well enough. Sayoko’s soft chuckle brought Sumire’s gaze back up. Returning her gaze to the changing colors of the sky Sayoko continued. “Always so shy. You should grow accustomed to such compliments if you are to be geisha. ...Or should I have Okasan fashion a veil for you, so that you would gain your renown as the Mysterious Geisha? ... “No one has ever seen her face!” “No?” “No! She is part ghost, part kami.. and they say that..” ... Eh?”
Sayoko had expected a witty rejoinder Sumire would likely fire off as she did when they would joke, but none came, she turned to see Sumire’s back to her.
“Sumire, what-“ Sayoko put her hand lightly on her shoulder.
“Stop it!” Sumire whipped around and shrugged off Sayoko’s hand “Stop joking! You are always laughing! Can’t you ever take anything seriously!?”
The outburst caught Sayoko by surprise. She said nothing and waited until Sumire spoke again.
“Everything is so easy for you! You never work at anything. It just simply comes to you. As if you were born with it! All you do is go through life laughing at things!” She could not understand where the sudden flare up was coming from but the angry words just flew from her. “It doesn’t even matter to you!”
Sayoko was very still and quiet through Sumire’s tirade. And in the darkness Sumire could see her lift her head as she spoke in a low voice, “And what is it you think doesn’t matter to me, Sumire?”
“That- You don’t- Doesn’t- “ For some reason, now she could not articulate what she meant. Sayoko waited and Sumire tried again “Today-Everyone has been waiting for this day, except me.“
Now it was Sayoko’s turn to frown. She moved closer. “What is wrong, Sumire? Are you telling me you do not want this?”
“No!..” Sumire sputtered and glanced away and then shook her head. “Yes... I don’t know. I.. I can’t help thinking that when I am geisha, things will no longer be the same. I always thought that I wanted to be geisha like you.. but now I realize that to be so, is to no longer be your little sister. It is to longer be part of..us. I will no longer be by your side. “
In the dark Sumire saw Sayoko draw back just a touch, and knew that she should never had said anything. She was acting the child on such an important matter. “ I am sorry. I shouldn’t–“ she began to mutter.
“No.” interrupted Sayoko “ Don’t ever apologize for wanting more. Apologize for not believing you deserve it.” Once said she turned away from Sumire and, leaning against the guardrail of the bridge, she looked into the reflections of the colors of the morning sky in the glassy pond. She sighed mildly as she spoke. “I am sorry. But I do not feel the same way you do. I have not been dreading this day. I have been waiting for it. I have waited very patiently for the time when I would say good bye to you as Little Sister.”
She did not think that hearing Sayoko say such a thing would hurt so much, yet she nodded as if she understood.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:04:40 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 109
(1/22/04 4:26 am)
Omoide: Sister Story (part II) (Continued)
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Sayoko turned to look at Sumire, her expression was lost in the shadow that still hung in the garden. “Finally I will be able to talk to you - as one woman to another. There are things I would talk to you about that I never could before.” Sayoko paused. It looked like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. For the first time since she had known her, Sumire witnessed Sayoko struggling for something to say. Finally, Sayoko shook her head, “ I would like so very much to talk to you after tonight’s ceremonies. Of course, I might not have a chance. You will have so many people demanding the attention of Kageyama’s newest Geisha. It is to be expected. But I will wait. “
Sumire was perplexed for a moment. Was this- ? Was she reading into what Sayoko was saying correctly? Did that mean that- ?
When she received no response from Sumire save for her stunned expression, Sayoko let go a soft breath of a laugh and shook her head. She turned away. “I see that I am not the only one overcome by my.. indiscretion. Forgive me Sumire, it is unfair of me to say even that much.” Pushing away from the rail of the bridge she sighed “I think.. that I should have not interrupted you this morning. I will let you be now.”
As Sayoko passed her Sumire caught her hand and held on, causing her to turn back. “Stay and talk with me tonight if you will. Or the night after that, or whenever we are given the chance. But stay with me.”
Letting out the breath, Sayoko was silent for a long while, eyes downcast. When she lifted her face to Sumire she smiled, “It is as you wish.”
It seemed as if her own pronouncement brought even more anguish and heartache. Sumire wanted to break down and weep, as if from fear or desperation. She knew that there should be no reason for fear or desperation. Her dreams had never included this, but now there was no denying she had been fighting for a long while. Never had she felt such a loss of control. She could not understand it, nor could she keep it from showing.
“Maa,” Sayoko reached wiped away a tear “Smile for me, Hotaru. Such a glorious morning needs a glorious sunrise.”
“But I am afraid, Kitsune.” They used the nicknames they called each other when they practiced at swordplay.
“And so am I. But life is in the living, not in the fearing.” She lifted Sumire’s chin with a delicate finger, “So smile for me, Hotaru.”
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
gabbin
Registered Member
Posts: 780
(1/22/04 9:58 am)
Reply
Dream/weaver
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Frieda bent over the various liniments, scented oils for rubbing, cooking oils, and, at last, found the machine oil-a metallic smell to it. It had a heavier weight but with a smooth consistency which would make her loom hum in that wonderful way. She paid for the small urn and turned to begin heading her way back toward the hammering sounds emanating from the blacksmiths, but, felt shocked to be punched in the chest and falling backwards. It seemed in slow time, she thought, "Oh, no, not again, not in public, again" and then resolved to make it as lady-like a fall as possible. Slowly tottering back on her heels, the oil jumped from her hand like the air from her lungs and flew off somewhere-she didn't hear it land. Frieda fell. Her rear hit first, followed by her left shoulder into the dust she felt kick up on her face followed by a red blush. The sensation of warm liquid, on her hands and the smell of the metallic oil from all around rushed to her senses. Shocked, she began slowly to stand while making a sweep for her stick.
"Ung" Frieda let the air out of her lungs. "I am terribly sorry", she said.
"No, no, no. It was completely my fault. It was I who ran into you. I am so sorry." Phalon extended an oily hand to pull Frieda up. "Here, let me help", she offered, then realizing Frieda could not see her outstretched hand, instead reached for her wrist. Frieda pulled her wrist away, shocked by the physical contact.
"Oh, it is no problem, I am quite capable myself. Are you okay, did you get oil upon you?" Frieda said while feeling for the table edge to steady herself. "Theseus, do you have a cloth to wipe off oil with?" she asked turning her head to the oil peddler.
She recognized the woman's voice as one of the women she met last night in Kaisa's home. Frieda became more flustered
and began adjusting her shawl. "Um,......Phalon isn't it? Miss? Mrs."
"Just Phalon, thanks. I've never been married."
"Oh, single?" Frieda's voice rose, as her touch on Phalon's hand gave her information that the woman was quite a bit older than she.
It was Phalon's turn to pull her hand away, embarrassed at the thick calluses from so many years of living her life in the saddle, without one place to call home. Her hands in places, like her life had been in places, were quite rough.
Seeing the thoughtful expression on Frieda's face, Phalon continued, "I was almost married once, but..." Phalon stopped. Her attention was caught by a merchant showing a silk scarf in a stall near to where they were standing. Hem spread the silk out, the air catching the color, billowing the fabric. The fabric rolled like waves in the sea, far away from shore and Phalon remembered the dream she had last night. The dream in which she'd had a robe torn from her - a robe the color of the sea made by Frieda Rose - and how lost she'd felt without it. Phalon had to have that robe.
Frieda slightly turned her head in puzzlement over what Phalon was doing. There was an uncomfortable silence. Frieda heard fabric swaying in the breeze and wondered why Phalon had stopped. She waited.
"Frieda....about my order....Have you started yet?
"Oh, the order, pants and a tunic, isn't that right? I, well, yes, have been sorting through the stock and was just pressing and ironing out the wrinkles for it. The material is hung up to air in a special drying room, you see, so it is in perfect shape. I will cut it tomorrow, is everything with it, okay? Is there a time constraint?"
Phalon, again eyeing that beautiful blue fabric, wondered how to describe colors to a person without sight. She simply asked, "Do you know of colors?"
"Yes, I have only been sightless for a few years. I remember well the colors of grass, it is cool and the fabric has a slight grass scent. Yellow, is ochre, the soft smell of the yarn, I know well. Blue is from berries, and the yarn is sweet and slightly grainy." Frieda loved weaving, that is when she forgot her shyness-when she talked of weaving.
"Can you make robe the color of the sea? Not aqua, but a dark blue-green, deep and rich, as if brought up from the depths of where Poseidon resides."
"Aye, the color of the Sea, I know it well, I have that fabric."
Phalon noticed a slight hint of an accent from Frieda but she couldn't quite place it. It sounded a bit similar to Bhen Ruhda's, but not quite. She was sure she'd heard it before…somewhere, perhaps long ago. She pushed the thought away for the moment and continued, "It should come to about here." Phalon indicated on her ankle the length of the robe, then realizing Frieda could not see her instead made chopping motions against Frieda's leg, right above her ankle.
Frieda waited patiently, a bit resigned to people unaccustomed to her blindness, and then startled by the quick contact out of nowhere. "Ah! Aaah, but, I don't know your height. Perhaps you could tell me, or, if you don't know, come by the shop f-f-for measurements."
Phalon ignored her and continued, "It should have a yoke the color of red wine...you know red wine, don't you?"
"Wine color, yes, the smell of wine, rich and deep, the berries of the chokecherry are used for that. Sour and bitter scent."
"Good. Then the yoke should come to here in the front." Again, Phalon chopped Frieda, this time at her collarbone. "And here in the back", she spun a stiff Frieda around and drew on her back the shape of the yoke, tapering down to a V in the back
Frieda jumped each time Phalon whacked her body. Frozen by her heightened sensitivity, it was quite unusual for someone to be so rough with her. She was scared now, and started wondering about what the folk watching were thinking. She'd forgotten her shyness while talking colors and fabrics, but the physical contact in public with this marauder......
Frieda said a quick "Yes, yes I understand, I-I-I will start on it immediately. Very nice to do business with you." She started off toward the sound of the blacksmith.
”But I haven’t yet explained the intricate embroidery details to you”, Phalon called after her. She then realized, too late, that she must have scared Frieda. She again called out, this time with apologies for both colliding with Frieda and changing her order.
Frieda kept walking now, listening frantically to the sounds to guide her. She heard what Phalon shouted to her but didn't acknowledge it. Her mind was racing away from the fear.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:07:10 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 114
(1/26/04 3:08 am)
Reply Omoide: The Burden of Life
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Sumire closed her kimono right side over left, in the manner of the dead. After fastening her obi she sank down to kneel in the cool grass. She spent a few minutes folding her kimono under herself in such a way that assured her body would remain locked in the kneeling position despite its natural reflex to jerk forward upon being sliced or stabbed. Checking the positions of those things around her she was satisfied that all was as best as she could make it. She poured a bit of sake from a small jar into a tiny cup and lifted it. Finishing it in two sips she filled the cup and drank again. Two more sips. Setting aside the jar she closed her eyes while she savored the last thing to pass over her tongue. Drawing breath over the evaporating flavor of sake she could also taste the forest and the stream. She had to smile, it was sublime. She wondered how it must have tasted to Sayoko.
~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
She didn’t know how long she stared at herself in the mirror. At one point she had been putting on her make up, and then had stopped, taken away by thoughts. She had only just put on the white foundation and stared at a ghostly, featureless face. Not even an expression graced that blank terrain. Horror had long since given way to shock and a numbness suffused her body.
How could this happen?
A maiko entered her room and knelt by her side. “Lady Sumire... They are still waiting for you. You are not ready yet. Please let me help. Can I get your kimono and obi?” the girl’s voice trembled. She had just been crying but was keeping her composure in Sumire’s presence. When Sumire looked at her she sighed and smiled. “I am sorry.. It is good you came, Mai-chan. Yes; I will be finished here shortly. Please bring the green one with the dragonfly pattern, and I think the black and gold obi.” She would have rather been alone, but she returned the same favor of maintaining a calm outward appearance.
The night before had been a wonderfully festive event. And it was all to honor her: Lady Sumire, now a Geisha of Kageyama. There had been so much music, dancing and singing; food, drinking and the laughter. It went well into the early morning hours. As Sayoko had predicted, there was not a moment that would have allowed for quiet conversation between them. It was well enough, Sayoko was close by and they shared bits of conversation and laughter in the company of her guests.
There were those stolen moments that resounded within her memory. Fleeting glances that hid unsaid things, a light brush of fingers upon a sleeve, the casual contact made in a conversation upon leaning forward to whisper or chuckle about some stupid thing. All these things had so much more weight now. It felt like her senses were alive and devoured such details with relish. She knew that they would not get to speak to each other that night, yet it didn’t matter because she had these small moments to keep.
When Lady Kageyama and her son, Lord Taro bid their leave, Sayoko left with them on the short walk from the large celebration hall of the palace to the living quarters. Not long after, terrible news came from the palace that Lady Kageyama and Lord Taro had been attacked by assassins. Lord Taro had stood and sustained injuries, but they were minor. Lady Kageyama was shaken, but untouched. Their escort Sayoko had been responsible for the death of all the assassins save the two that Lord Taro was able to kill, before he was injured. Everyone had survived, but there was a horrible note to the tale. There were more assassins than usually sent. Sayoko had been disarmed of her fighting fans and used a rake handle to fend off some of them. Once Lord Taro had been injured there was no hope left for their survival.. until, in desperation, Sayoko picked up Lord Taro’s fallen sword and stood alone against the three remaining assassins and defeated them.
As soon as Lord Kageyama heard of the incident there was an immediate order for Sayoko to restore the honor of the House with her death. Her execution would take place the next day.
This was that day. Sumire had been asked to visit with Lady Akino that morning. Later they, and all the geisha and maiko, had to attend and witness Sayoko’s execution, on demand of Lord Kageyama.
Sumire moved out of habit as she finished her make up and dressed. When the maiko who assisted her began to cry Sumire tried briefly to console her but then let her leave. Arriving at the door of Lady Akino’s receiving room she was surprised to see a soldier of Kageyama sitting cross-legged outside door. He knocked on the doorframe, announced Lady Sumire’s arrival and opened the door for her. She stalled for only a second upon entering when she saw that it was not only Lady Akino and Lady Kageyama at the table but also Sayoko.
Sayoko sat with her hands in her lap. Her hair was unbound and she wore no adornment or make-up.
Sumire bowed to the attendants in turn, not even daring to make eye contact with Sayoko. She immediately went about serving tea. She focused all her attention on keeping her hands from trembling as she went through the movements. She barely even heard the conversation that resumed.
“No, Sayoko. You will not argue with me. My husband has already tried that.. and if he cannot persuade me, neither can you. He may rule the most important state in South Jappa and command the forfeiture of people’s lives with a word, but he cannot tell me how I should or should not honor the memory of my family. You will have a place among my family’s shrine. At least I can do this, for everything you have done for me and mine.”
“I did not do what I did to gain honor no create sensation. I did it because it was my duty. It is enough to know that you are alive to offer me that honor, my Lady. I could ask for nothing more. Still.. I think that I will enjoy the view. Thank you very much, Lady Kageyama.”
Sumire burned her hand on the handle of the teapot, upon hearing the bit of humor Sayoko interjected into that conversation. Yet, she did not jerk or make a sound. She simply continued with the silent vigil of filling the teapot with hot water.
Her serving would have progressed without noticeable incident had she not seen Sayoko’s hands as she was reaching for her cup. At that point she had been pouring Lady Akino’s cup. When she saw Sayoko’s hands were bound at her wrists, the tea pot began to shake such that the tea splattered. Unable to bring it under control, Sumire set the pot down on the table with a loud clunk. She let go of it, but her hands still shook Attempting to recover by turning to find a napkin, she stammered “I’m so sorry. Forgive me, My Lady.. I-”
Lady Akino took over the serving without a pause, while Sumire cleaned up. “Ah, It is nothing, daughter. You did have a long night after all. It is to be expected. Here.. sit down, girl. Let me finish.”
Once all were served they sat and sipped tea and spoke of things like the changing weather and which colors seemed to be fading from the latest seasonal fashions. Sumire said very little, but spoke quietly in short phrases, when she needed to contribute. Sayoko spoke as eloquently and charming as ever. Her gift for a poetic turn of phrase and clever puns still drew smiles from the others, except Sumire.
The visit drew to a close shortly after Lady Kageyama said, “I think I will walk in my gardens now. Lady Akino will you join me?” Lady Akino nodded and they all bowed as Lady Kageyama rose.
The guard at the door seemed a little surprised as Lady Kageyama and Lady Akino were leaving. He looked between the Ladies and Sayoko, not sure if he should remain guarding the criminal or escor the Lady Kageyama. With barely a glance as she walked past him the Lady said, “I was hoping you would accompany us, Morimoto-san.” Her tone inflected more than a suggestion.
Still the guard hesitated. ”Lady Kageyama, I should take this one back to palace and tell the Lord that the woman will be ready for her final ceremony.”
Lady Kageyama gave a slight sigh of exasperation, “With all that has happened I would feel so much safer with your sword at my side. Once you have escorted me to my apartments you may return for this woman and then go to my Lord or do whatever it is you feel you must do. She will be here when you get back. There is no where else for her to go.”
Giving one last look into the room at Sayoko who sat at the table, the guard gave a short bow to his queen and went with her. Lady Akino closed the door on the room after giving Sayoko and Sumire a subtle nod. The Lady Kageyama had stolen time for them.
As precious as that time was, neither spoke for a bit. Finally Sumire managed, “I cannot help but think that if the attack would have happened a day before, I would have been by your side to help you defend. It never would have come to this. And even so.. even if we were overrun I would have died by your side then. I will go with you when you return to the palace. I will die by your side in seppuku.”
Sayoko shook her head. “No. You must live.”
“I cannot. You cannot ask that of me.” Sumire said, incredulous that Sayoko could even say such a thing.
“I am not asking you.” was Sayoko’s even reply
“I practiced with you. You knew how to wield the sword because we learned together!” hissed Sumire.
Sayoko brought her bound fists down on the table hard enough to make the cups jump and clatter. “Liar! I learned the blade on my own. I acted alone! You know nothing of the sword! NOTHING! Do you hear me?” she glared intently at Sumire.
The outburst did little to sway Sumire “But, if I had not practiced with you, you would not have known, you would not have used the katana! It is my fault. I am to blame! It was my shame!”
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:10:58 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 114
(1/26/04 3:08 am)
Omoide: The Burden of Life (Continued)
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The strike came swift and hard. Sayoko had risen up to hit Sumire backhand, bound as she was “Fool! This is not yours.. Do you understand me?!” Sumire had fallen back and propped herself up by her elbows. She looked at Sayoko in hurt disbelief. Sayoko’s expression reflected her own pain at having hit her, but she continued sharply, “Forgive me, Sumire, but you will not share this with me. Because if by chance you had practiced with me...if by chance you knew the ways of the sword, it would mean the noble geisha of Kageyama are no longer under the control of their Lord. It means that we have grown too dangerous. It means we all will die. To admit you even know how to hold a sword is to kill little Chie and Mariko. It is to kill Lady Akino, the mother who raised us.” The desperation of the situation edged her voice with anger again. “Do you understand that, you stupid selfish thing? I will not allow you to throw it all away.”
Sumire had not moved, she was pinned by the cold truth in Sayoko’s words. The despair that had wound its way around her heart upon first hearing of the assassination attempt now began to tighten unmercifully around her heart. She wanted to counter everything Sayoko was telling her. There must be some way. Anything. Sayoko saw the desperate expression on her face and spoke again quietly “I will not allow you to throw yourself away. You are precious beyond all words to me. You are precious to your family of sisters here.”
“And are my feelings of no value? If I cannot die with you then.” Sumire looked around frantically, “Then... then leave this! Leave here! Now! We will run!” She crawled to Sayoko and reached for her hands to untie them, and was surprised when Sayoko pulled away.
Sayoko, known for always having an answer and a plan for everything, seemed tired when she spoke, “And where to, Sumire? If we run it is even worse. We will be hunted down like animals. The noble guardians will be exterminated just the same. I must bear the shame for all of us. The Lords of the House will have their honor blood, and the legacy of the Geisha will live.” She brought her hands up to cup Sumire’s face “You will live, Sumire.”
She knocked Sayoko’s hands away and her voice broke as she cried, “How can you calmly sit here and tell me I will live!?”
Sayoko continued to speak calmly, “I was never as stubborn as you Sumire. I am relying on that strength now. I beg a favor of you. Will you honor it?”
A request. Last request. Sayoko had accepted her fate. How could she argue with someone who was resigned to their fate. Sumire lowered her head, brought a hand up to her face and began to cry.
“Please. In order live you must renounce me. Promise me this.”
Sumire moaned and shook her head. She slammed her fists onto the mat in brutal refusal. “No!”
Grabbing the front of her kimono, Sayoko shook her. “PROMISE ME! They will interrogate you after I am gone, Sumire. You must renounce me. Tell them whatever you must. But you must renounce me at every turn! Do you understand? Please. I beg you. Do this for me. And if not for me, then for our little sisters.”
Such an unimaginable request. How could she possibly do this? It was impossible. She tried to shrug off Sayoko angrily. “You cannot know what that means! You are- You are- “ Her words choked off. The welling of emotion was impossible to express. It was boundless. It would kill her to try. And as full and all consuming as it was, it was instantly replaced by an anger that was as violent as her love was deep. She shoved off Sayoko and in a rage swept her hand across the table, scattering and shattering everything that was on it. “I will destroy this House and bring it down! I will topple Kageyama! Raze it!”
Before she could throw aside the table, Sayoko caught her hand and pulled it towards her. She spoke calmly, trying to lend Sumire some of her peace. “I cannot allow this either. It was my honor and privilege to defend Kageyama in my way. Its honor will be preserved when I am gone.” As she spoke she turned and twisted her hands within the bounds and they were off. She then took Sumire’s hands in her own.
“But even if you tried, you could not destroy my Kageyama. No one can. You see... when I say Kageyama, it is not some Lordship, or his lands, or a palace or a family crest. It is something much closer than that.
“It is everything that has ever shone in this tiny world that is our cage. Okaasan, my sisters.. these are Kageyama to me. I look at you and I know how a bird in a cage will sing of flying. You are Kageyama, Sumire. And you will live on.”
“I cannot live..” she was no longer countering Sayoko. This time it was a simple confession.
“You must,.” said Sayoko, in an apologetic tone.
“Not without you..”
“You will.”
“Impossible.” It was a barely audible whisper.
“For me. For Kageyama. We will do the impossible.”
Finally unable to bear it, her composure crumpled away. She wept because she knew Sayoko was right. She had accepted the promise.
Drawing Sumire into her embrace, Sayoko allowed herself to cry as well. She lent what strength she had to Sumire as best she could, but found she was grieving for them both. At some point she began to hum a melody that comforted her.
Once she was cried out, Sumire could not help but add her melody to the song they had made together. The words were Sayoko’s, but the melody was Sumire’s.
Sayoko smiled softly in memory. “I remember when I wrote that poem. I never thought much of it until I heard your melody carry the words.”
“But it was your words that inspired the melody, Kitsune.” The little irony brought a smile to Sumire’s face.
“And you smile for me, Hotaru.” Sayoko caressed Sumire’s cheek. “That is all I’ve ever needed.”
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
the chaotrix
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(1/26/04 3:25 am)
Reply Omoide: Sayounara
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The flute song played through the trees and over the water. It carried her memories in its melody. It was not part of the seppuku ritual, it just happened that way. It seemed it would go on, but at a particular set of memories the song brought itself to a halt. She was unexpectedly breathless and could not continue, although the memories seemed to float on, even without the music.
~ ~ ~ omoide ~ ~ ~
Even though those who attended were connected to the palace in some way, the air in the inner courtyard was that of a public execution, except instead of the curious anticipation, a pall of sorrow settled over the whole area. Most of those who chose to be in attendance were there to witness the passing of one of Kageyama’s most beloved.
They had lined geisha and maiko up on one side of the courtyard, and most of those nobles in residence at the palace on the other side. And throughout were positioned officers and soldiers of the Palace Guard. The Lord and Lady and sons of Kageyama presided at the head of the courtyard. Sayoko knelt on a mat at the center. Standing close by was the warrior who would finalize her seppuku. He was known to have been a good friend and sometimes lover. Sayoko requested that he be the one to ‘assist’ her.
Lord Kageyama lifted his fan for silence and pointed toward the gathered geisha and maiko. “You, servants of Kageyama, are here to witness what comes of breaking our laws. This woman has brought disgrace on our House by wielding a sword. It would serve you well to remember that any time you think you are above the codes of Lord and Land. Her death now will erase the dishonor that she as brought upon this House and your profession. Never forget your place.”
The bristling of fury that rose up in Sumire was dizzying. She watched Sayoko, who had not lifted her head once during Lord Kageyama’s speech. Sumire sought to crush that dangerous emotion lest it draw angry words from her. In doing so she could feel that she was not the only one infuriated by what she heard. The geisha and maiko were perfectly silent, their training having served them, but the tension of resentment rose off them in waves. But it went beyond them as well, Sumire glanced around and saw that people shifted uncomfortably. Even the Lady Kageyama had adverted her eyes, turning away from her husband. Lord Taro, who’s life was saved earlier that morning, kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
Finally Lord Kageyama turned to Sayoko and nodded. “Now, If you don’t have anything to say; your final duty to the House.”
Sayoko bowed low to the lord, palms on the ground and forehead nearly touching the ground. She commenced the ritual of death.
As prescribed, Sayoko drank sake in the proper amount of sips, and then picked up a bush, poised over a piece of paper ready to write her death poem. After a long moment she let the brush slip through her fingers to fall, unused. She began a ritual of her own. Rather than remain downcast as proscribed for women, Sayoko lifted her eyes to the Lord of Kageyama who had demanded her execution. Taking the knife out of turn, she held it up in her off hand, the handle resting on her open palm. Lifting her other arm out to the side, she turned her hand upward. Lord Kageyama blustered and made to stand but she fixed him with a piercing stare, while the knife flipped and twirled over her fingers artfully. A master of blades could not have moved more exquisitely.
Horrified, Sumire adverted her eyes from the flagrant display of defiance, but when she heard Sayoko’s words she was unwillingly pulled back to observe. To understand.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:13:04 GMT -6
the chaotrix
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(1/26/04 3:25 am)
Omoide: Sayounara (Continued)
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“I lived as I die now; for Kageyama.”
Without a flicker in the glare she had frozen the Lord with, Sayoko drew the knife across her throat.
Though her eyes witnessed as much as she could bear, it was the sounds Sumire remembered most.
Air being sliced by a swiftly turned blade,
A quiet gasp,
Soft splattering,
The solid strike of the assistant’s sword,
A dull thud,
And the brief whisper of silk sliding on silk.
As she listened to Sayoko’s execution, it was her hand that Sumire kept her gaze fixed on. When Sayoko’s body collapsed, her hand slid just that bit further along the ground, closer to Sumire. For a moment her fingers splayed wide, and then, as life left, they curled gently, palm upward.
She heard the sounds of moaning and weeping. She heard the sounds of some of her sisters falling to the ground as they fainted.
She remained absolutely motionless and watched Sayoko’s hand, in peaceful repose. It seemed to her as quiet and still as any morning while Sayoko slept. It looked as if she could simply reach out and put her hand in Sayoko’s and wait for her to wake up. As simple as any memory should be. As if she could just hold her hand and wait for her to open her eyes and greet her with a smile.
It could have been a memory, but they never had the chance.
Her vision began to close down at the edges, and the world began to mute itself. A graininess suffused the image of Sayoko, of her hand waiting for Sumire to hold it. There was the silent knowing that she was fainting and she didn’t care. There were no memories worth holding onto here.
Perhaps–
Lady Akino’s talons dug into her elbow and her vision cleared, showing Sayoko’s headless body. It brought the sounds of her sisters mourning. It brought the taste of blood for having bitten her tongue to keep from screaming.
There were other dim memories; of prostrating herself to the Lords and asking their forgiveness on behalf of the other geisha and promising that such atrocious acts of disrespect to Kageyama and its laws died with that wretched woman; of entering her room and drawing the doors closed to be alone as her great plan, her distant world were crushed against the weight of her shattered heart; of relentless rain; of haunting music; of defending nobles and secretly hoping all the while, that perhaps each new assassin had skill enough to kill her. They never did.
These would be her memories.
So much of her had been tied to Sayoko that she struggled for years to bury it all until she was left with only the bitterness and resentment. These things were acceptable to show outwardly to any who had wished the demise of the Kageyama geisha. In order to save the lives of the remaining geisha she had to maintain an outward appearance of resenting Sayoko’s actions that eventually it settled darkly in her heart like rust. The fabrication had become truth after all.
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
For the first time since Sayoko’s death, Sumire allowed herself to talk to her or at least the memory of her. “Forgive me. I tried to forget you. It was the only way.. “
The knife lay a hand’s breadth before her in the grass. The sun warmed the back of her hand as she reached for it. With her other hand she tilted her head and drew her hair over a shoulder exposing the side of her neck and throat.
Her voice was thick as she appealed to Sayoko’s ghost. “I cannot walk in this endless dream. Please let me go.. Please let me come through to awaken in a world with you.”
As she turned the knife and leveled it at herself, the blade reflected the colors of sky and leaf overhead. The reflection was lost as the knife trembled in her hand.
“Please let me...” she whispered as her arm tensed to draw against herself.
Halfway to her throat her arm was frozen by an inner voice.
You must live.
She gasped in horror. Attempting to deny the words as she had tried so long ago, she fought to draw the knife against herself once more, only to hear Sayoko’s voice again.
I will not allow you to throw yourself away. You are precious beyond all words to me. You are precious to your family of sisters here.
The image of the knife trembling in her hand blurred to abstract colors as desperate tears burned her eyes. Finally she was able to break free and plunge the knife.
She drove it home, burying the blade to the hilt into the grass before her.
Her back arched as a scream of grief and frustration broke from her, “Norowareta!!” Cursed
She slumped to the ground groaning, “You’ve cursed me to living. You’ve cursed me to an existence without you.”
There were no tears that she could shed, no words she could think of that would assuage the hopelessness of her situation. The weight of her failure closed down on her. She did not know if she fainted or slept or simply let go her mind, but her world darkened until they found her.
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(1/26/04 8:12 am)
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Stones in the Road
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Not wanting to disturb anyone, Xendra quietly let herself out.
Once out in the cool night air ,Xendra deeply exhaled in relief, she was now free to think feel and emote alone.
Xendra walked for hours,churning thoughts about Vania in her head. Perhaps it was the stillness of the night that allowed her to think clearly.The streets were clear and the town laid silent save the sound of her feet hitting the stones in the street.
As dawn approached Xendra closed her eyes to concentrate on the silence of the town but all she could hear were halted and uneven sounds of her own limp gait.
Xendra opened her eyes, this was not the rythmic sound that she always known her feet to make. Xendra had felt it but to now hear that she no longer had the fast steady gait of an Amazon, but rather a slowed pace limp was emotionally debilatating..
The damn Romans were still taking things away from her!
Xendra paused and let her hands run down to the scar upon her leg. It was jagged and hard raised above the other skin and yet held a smoother texture then the skin around it.
No matter how well Xendra had healed her fluid mobilty was forever gone, just like her mother her grandmother and her three charges.
The Roman bloodlust for Amazons had demanded no less and received no more, for nearly everything and everyone Xendra had ever loved or cared for had been taken away by the Romans, save these few sisters and friends she traveled with.
Xendra grimaced,there was but for a brief moment in time where she could honestly and defiantly cry what more is there to take from me except my life?
This was no longer true. Vania and the rest of Kaisa’s family were now a risk for Xendra to lose because of the damnable Romans.
Just the thought, or the very word Romans was enough to make all the tossing and turning and anxious thoughts about whether she could she possibly stay around town and be like aunt Xendra to Vania or perhaps come and take Vania for a few weeks each year seem like a futile exercise.
The Romans with their unquenchable bloodlust would never allow Xendra or the others to be happy or to have that much peace for so long. No, time was running out on this visit she could feel it.
Xendra's throat clenched shut as she thought of the possibilty of the Romans discovering them at Kaisa's
Xendra was now desperate to know how close the Romans might be.Xendra wanted to impusively start banging on doors and asking people about the Romans but given the hour and the fact that most of the town people hated them without knowing them she squashed that idea.
Xendra calmed herself a bit and started thinking who in this town might know things that others wouldn't?
Xendra closed her eyes to concentrate again. Of course Frieda Rose! People often talk around the blind like their also deaf and Xendra thought if she herself could hear her own footsteps when she had her eyes closed ,what more was Frieda Rose hearing with her heightened sense .
It was a long shot but perhaps Frieda Rose would know if there had been any word of troop movements.
Xendra wanted to go racing to the shop and ask her but it was no where near time to open the shop and Xendra was sure such a visit would only scare her more, so Xendra decided she should go back to Kaisa's have breakfast and talk with whoever was awake before going to talk to Frieda Rose.
Edited by: 1 Xwpfan at: 1/29/04 11:16 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:14:57 GMT -6
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(1/29/04 12:14 pm)
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Why do the Romans hate you?
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Xendra began the journey back towards Kaisa's hoping that an early morning discussion might disuade the uneasy feeling that had over come her.
Xendra was about to round the corner towards Kaisa's when Xendra with her perphieal vision spotted a much smaller shadow following just behind hers. Xendra spun around and sure enough there was Vania trying to keep up.
Xendra grabbed Vania's arm and harshly demanded,"What are you doing? Why are you following me? Dont you know it could be dangerous out here?"
Startled, Vania looked like she could burst into tears any second as she plantively cried, "but Xendra I just wanted to be with you and help you in case there was any danger."
Xendra knelt down and took the little girl into her arms and held her tight and quietly whispered," I couldnt bare it if anything ever happened to you little one.I know you want to spend time with me but sometimes it's just too dangerous for you to come with me .Vania, you have to believe that I take you with me every chance I get.
Vania pushed back Xendra's hair and said "I know you do but sometimes you're wrong , like tonight nothing bad happened when I followed you."
Xendra sighed, how was she going to explain about adults wanting time alone to think or worse yet about the impending yet invisble threat of the Romans?
Xendra gently placed Vania back on solid ground and put her arm around her shoulder as she tried her best to explain;"Yes, tonight was fortunate,nothing bad happened but what if it had? I didn't know you were with me and I am sure no one in your family knew where you were, what if you got lost or fell and got hurt or worse yet what if the Romans took you?"
Vania studied Xendra's face, Vania knew the Romans to be angry men who would demand taxes and take slaves but never in her wildest dreams would they take a little girl, yet Xendra's words and expression said otherwise.
Finally after a few minutes of thought Vania quietly said to Xendra, "I think I know why you hate the Romans but why do the Romans hate you, did you do something to them?"
Why do the Romams hate you? That was a question that Xendra and many Amazons had tried to answer from the onsought of this ghastly battle and the only answer Xendra could ever really come up was simply because Amazon's exist, that they had refused to be assimilated into Roman culture.
Xendra looked directly into Vania's eyes and said,"The Amazons didn't start this fight. They came into our woods our homes and took Amazons as slaves. We are a free people and could not stand to be slaves so we fought back and Romans and Amazons have been dying and fighting ever since...Even if the amazons stopped fighting this very moment it would not matter for Rome will not be satisified til all Amazons are either dead or in slavery."
Vania was terrified of the thought of Xendra being killed or made into a slave and she cried out,"Xendra I dont want you to be an Amazon anymore!"
Both tears and laughter overcame Xendra, she laughed at the childs wide eyed innocent solution and tears came knowing that the answer came out of a place of fear and deep concern.
Xendra quietly said,"Vania,being an Amazon isn't like being a Roman it's not about where I have lived or who I follow orders from. It's here on the inside it is who I am, I would rather die then never be considered an Amazon or never be with my sisters again."
Vania stopped walking and boldly stepped up to Xendra with hands on her tiny little hips and said, "If you're going remain an Amazon then I want to be an Amazon too!"
Xendra thought, If only it were that siimple!
Xendra said,"Vania it takes years of training and hard work to be an Amazon. It would mean leaving Kaisa's and all the other children... you would not be sleeping in beds or under roofs very often and it is very dangerous."
" Leave Kaisa's for good? Vania asked incredously.
Xendra nodded emphatically.
Vania said, "I hadn't thought about that."
Xendra smiled and said, "I know little one,there is much to be considered.So why dont we do this. While I am here,I will begin training you, then I will go away for a while and when I return you can tell me what you decided , okay?"
Vania said sadly,"When do you think you will go away Xendra?"
Xendra answered truthfully, "I dont know could be anytime now, but I promise to come back if I am able."
Vania swung her arms around Xendra's waist and said," I don't ever want you to go!"
Xendra held her tight and said, "I don't want to go either but I think we may have to leave in order to keep all of you safe."
Vania tried to nod like she understood but she really didn't all she knew was that her new best friend was talking about leaving and it hurt more than she could bare.
Xendra gave her an extra squeeze and then tried to lighten the mood, " You know Vania we are together and the day is just beginning, maybe you can show me a good place to start your training and if you do a good job I may have a surprise for you later."
Vania squealed with delight and grabbed Xendra by the hand as she started to run and breathlessly exclaimed "I know this pond where the boys all like to fish and catch frogs, its usually quiet this time of morning though."
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:17:01 GMT -6
blackwolf
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(1/29/04 4:41 pm)
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Dreams and Power
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Pain.....darkness.....concern.....all these emotions swept over me as I lay in my coma that wasn't a coma. I was aware of all that was going on around me, but I had no power at all over my body. So I just lay there, trusting my body to heal itself. But the pain from the knife wound was intense, and was slowly sapping my strength. I felt control slipping away, and with every inch of my being I held on. And then, I heard whispering, I felt magic flow through me, and the pain was gone, drawn out of my body. With the pain gone, I finally drifted into a deep sleep.
I awoke in a forest, next to a quietly flowing stream. The air was silent, but it was not an eerie silence. Rather, it was calming, as if it was supposed to be that way. I lay there and let the calmness wash over me. Maybe I was dead.
"I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to get here," said a male voice behind me. I sprang to my feet, spun around, and crouched in an attack position, all in one movement. The man chuckled at what I had done. "Well, it's good to see your still just as quick as you used to be. Oh, and don't worry, you're not dead."
"Do I know you?" I asked, suspicion and distrust lacing my voice.
"Let's just say, I'm an old friend," he replied, still smiling. I did a quick once-over before returning my gaze to his. He was tall, topping my own height by three hand widths or so. He was built like a warrior, all muscle. His hair was not unlike my own, blacker than the night and just as short. His green eyes were smiling and were filled with the confidence of one who knows his place in life. Not arrogant, just very sure of himself. He was also light on his feet. All in all, my quick glance summed up a warrior of great strength and skill. I was sure that if we had met before, I would've remembered. His assurance that he was an old friend was obviously a lie, and I kept in my crouched position, ready to spring if need be.
Seeing that I was not going to believe him, the man heaved a big sigh, and then sat on the ground cross-legged, hands out. The action reminded me of what I had done when I had first met Sumire. The similarity of it made me uneasy, but it also intrigued me.
"Who are you?" I asked again.
"Why do you ask a question that I have already answered?"
"Because I'm wanting a different answer than the one you gave. If you were an old friend, I would have remembered you. I have quite a good memory when it comes to friends."
"It's easy to have a good memory when only a few people are involved."
Though his words were the truth, I was still surprised at the hurt that flowed through me. I was also surprised that he knew the truth.
"I'm sorry that I hurt you," he said. At my incredulous look that he had guessed my feelings, he replied "Here, emotions are what make the world turn. Only those with great skill and control can hide their emotions while here, and that isn't a good thing. For every person who tries to control his or her feelings, a part of this world dies."
"You seem to be controlling yours well enough," I said.
With a smile that had turned somewhat sad, he replied "The rules don't apply to me as much. You see, I'm not really part of this world. I'm a figment, a ghost of some sort. Oh, I'm real enough if you touch me, but my real life was voluntary given up a little while ago."
For some reason, I believed him. He might be able to control most of his emotions, but he couldn't control the sadness that swept over his features at the mention of not being real. Nodding my head with acceptance, I asked "Where exactly is here?" For the first time, I took my eyes off of him to glance around. For all intents and purposes, it looked like any other forest and stream, but it still wasn't quite right. My gaze quickly returned to the stranger, still not trusting him. He hadn't moved a muscle.
"Here, in simplest terms, is called Dreamland. It's a place beyond the dreams of people, and yet is part of it. Only a few know that it's truly here, and those few are the ones known as Dream Walkers, for lack of a better name. Occassionaly a normal person will accidentally end up here, but he soon leaves to return to his dreams. His mind can't handle the power that resides here. From here, you can enter the dreams of anybody in this world, if you know how to find who you're looking for."
"How did I get here then?"
"I brought you," was his simple answer.
Several thoughts flew through my head at this announcement. One was that he had power beyond my own to be able to pull that off. Second was that he knew I had received power of my own, or else he would not have attempted to bring me. Mixed with all of that was the realization that this must have been where Montara went when he entered dreams himself. He had entered my dreams a few times, and he let it slip accidentally that he had entered other's dreams at times too. He had never told me exactly how he did this, and I didn't pry. I figured it was something that he was not allowed to tell me.
Still in my crouched position, I asked "Why did you bring me here?"
"To teach you. I know you have recently come into some power, and it is here that I can teach you the extent of it. We will not be disturbed here, and what I have to teach you will require much time and patience."
Standing, I said "Well, I appreciate that and all, but I'm getting along fine on my own. Besides, I have to get back. There is a woman that I'm currently protecting, and though I know she's safe with the group I'm traveling with, it's still my duty, not their's. I don't have time right now to learn anything. So, if you could show me the way out, I'll be on my way."
"I can't do that little one. You might think you're fine, but you're power is growing quickly, and will soon grow out of your control if you are not taught the extent of it. Besides, time doesn't move here the same way as it moves in reality. For every seeming day that passes here, a couple of hours pass in reality. For the time that will be spent here, a day will pass in the real world, maybe a little more."
"Listen, I told you, I can't stay. I really appreciate it, but even if only a day passes in reality, that is a day too long. Anything can happen, and I need to be there. So, if you would please, once again, show me how to get out of here-"
Interupting me, the stranger said, with some force to his voice "If I don't teach you, you will die. What good are you then for those you are supposed to protect?"
Taken slightly aback, I tried to deny it. "You're lying to me. I know what you're trying to do. You want to use my power against me. Supposedly you'll teach me how to use my power, but in all reality you'll teach me how to use my power for you. Are you a minion of evil? If you are, then I won't give in. Evil tried to get me once, and it didn't work. So, just go back where you come from-"
Leaning forward, the man fairly yelled "Listen, you think-headed, stupid little girl. You are going to have to believe me when I tell you that you are in danger. If you can't control your power, it will overcome you. You will either die, or go crazy and then die. Which would you prefer? You don't know nearly as much as you think."
"I don't believe you," I said, glaring at the man.
Leaning back, the man's smile turned slightly sad again, and his reply was to wave his hand, as if wiping away something. Instantly, hundreds of voices blew into my mind, each screaming and yelling to be heard over all of the others. My wolf senses went into overdrive, and the information I was receiving from them clamored for attention in my head with the voices. At the same time, I felt like my insides were twisting up inside me, almost like they were moving into new positions. Sinking to my knees in pain, I gripped my head in my hands and starting moaning. The moaning moved up into a partial scream as it felt like my head was going to explode. The skies overhead turned dark, and threatened to explode themselves with thunder and rain. Just as soon as it had started, it was over.
It took me while to orient myself. Still shaken from the amount of pain and power I had felt, I slowly looked up at the man who was now kneeling directly in front of me. I looked at his eyes, and saw the same pain I knew were in mine. Taking my face in his warm hands, he said "I'm sorry little one. I had to make you see. I had to let you know how dangerous not having control is. You have alot of power flowing through your blood right now, and you've barely tapped into it. What I showed you was just a little portion." Smiling in sympathy, he added "If it makes any difference, it hurt me as much as it hurt you."
Finally gaining full control of myself, I leaned back, using my own strength to hold me up. Finally accepting that I would have to trust this man, and knowing he spoke that truth about my impending death if I didn't gain control, I said "Teach me." Seeing his look, I added politely "Teach me, please."
Nodding his head and smiling, he too sat back. We sat face to face, legs crossed, knees touching. Taking my hands in his, he told me to close my eyes. With one last uneasy glance at him, I did as I was told. His voice washed over me. "First, comes patience. This will not happen all at once. Then comes control. Without it, your power will overwhelm you. Lastly, I'll teach you about responsibility, for with great power comes great responsibility. But first comes patience. Let me guide you." I finally let go fully, and followed him to the deepest places of my being.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:17:46 GMT -6
Zena 1
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(2/1/04 7:14 pm)
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Closer
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The cloudburst of the night before had barely made any impact upon the dust of the landscape. Briefly, the plants raised hopefully to the sky only to wither again in the drying heat of the sun. Where puddles had formed there was now only a depression in the mud and a faint difference of color. “How quickly life changes,” Zena mused. “The storm last night nearly drowned Vassaly and me and now it is as if it never was.” She thought of Vassaly again for the first time since parting from her. People, like storms, tear through your life, and then sometimes they fade away as if they had never been. Others remain. Zena was used to the comings and goings of Evergreen; it was her habit since they were young trainees together. The older Amazons were eternally infuriated with her for her disregard of the rules and the sense of order in the tribe. After each disappearance she would be assigned extra work, cleaning weapons or hauling firewood, to instill in her the discipline of a warrior. Zena knew her sister had the discipline and the loyalty, she simply applied the principles differently. She went when she needed to but she always returned. And like the plants in the rainstorm, Zena raised herself hopefully toward the day when the Evergreen would return, whistling and grinning with the sheer joy of being home again.
Ahead of Zena, Apollo and Vargas, Little Dog and Whisperer had already turned off the road toward the pond and the shepherd’s cave. “They must be after water, it’s so dry in this heat” she leaned in to say in Apollo’s ear so he could hear her over the sound of the horses hooves. But Apollo shook his head vigorously and pointed at the two forms ahead. The dog had slipped into the cave and Whisperer stood at the entrance, pawing the air with her forelegs and dropping to the ground only for a moment before she was back up again, tossing her head and snorting with impatience.
Zena concentrated on the opening but could see nothing at all of the dog from so far back. Ergo, catching a scent of something lurched forward and they arrived at the hill in short time.
“Stay here and watch the prisoner Apollo.”
“Do you think the wolf is still there, Zee?”
“Wolf? Ah, yes the wolf. Maybe. Stay back."
She slid out of the saddle, lifted Apollo to the ground and sent him to a nearby tree to wait with the two horses.
Seeing Zena approach, Whisperer stopped her dance and pawed at the soft earth outside the cave. She reached back and felt the familiar handle of her sword in her hand and withdrew it from it’s sheath with only the whisper of a sound. The rocky wall at her back, she moved quickly and with the silence of the Amazons toward the opening. The dog had gone into the darkness and not returned, but there was only the hum of cicadas around them. No yelping. No growls. When she was close enough she heard a voice that she had nearly forgotten and the sound of the slurping tongue of a small devoted dog.
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:20:32 GMT -6
blackwolf
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(2/3/04 12:00 am)
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Control and Responsibility
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"I can't do it!! Take it away!!" I yelled. The force of the power that the stranger had given her was weighing her down, and she fell to her knees as she felt it start to consumer her yet again.
"No, not this time. I'm not helping you on this one. You're going to have to do it on your own this time."
"I can't!" I sobbed, ready to give up to the power.
"Yes you can!" He yelled. "Now, concentrate. Find your center. Breathe. Don't force the power, wield it. Let it come to you, and don't fight it. Breathe."
I did as he asked. Stemming down on the pain the power was causing, I closed my eyes and found my all to familiar center. It had become easier and easier with time and practice. This was my place of calmness, where the power could not reach no matter how it tried to. I looked at the power swirling around, trying to understand how to control such an unimaginable force. I was in such a small space, and the power pulsed around me on all sides.
"Don't let the power control you, you control the power. Though it might seem big, you have to let it know who's in power. You have to become bigger than it." The stranger's words came back to me as I sat there. Taking a deep breath, I slowly started to expand my center. Like before though, the power simply pushed against the walls, causing them to bend. I quickly fought to strengthen the walls, losing the small ground that I had covered.
Discouraged and ready to give up yet again, I noticed something that I had not noticed before. Though my power seemed to be of one entity, it was actually made up of small particles that had separate meanings and functions. All of them together caused one big chaos. In their individual functions, however, they might be controllable. So thinking, I focused on the seemingly easiest set of particles. Though I didn't as yet know what each meant, I could still tell them apart. I focused on one particle in particular, and when it came close enough to grab, I slowly opened my center and tried to grab it. Immediately my control started to snap again, and I had to fight to close my center against the onslaught that came.
"Don't force it. Let it come to you" Remembering this, I waited patiently for the right opportunity again. When the time came, I opened my wall slowly again, but didn't reach out. I simply let it come to me. It was easier than I imagined. As soon as it entered, I closed my wall and watched in amazement as the chaos around me seemed to stop in confusement, before resuming their pushing.
I looked at the particle that I had allowed in with me. It slowly circled me, as if weighing my potential. I sat their quietly, watching it just as intently. After awhile, it seemed satisfied with something, and went to the wall. In a matter of moments, the same kind of particles formed a circle on the outside of my wall. Not really knowing what would happen, I opened my wall again, waiting for an onslaught of pain. Instead, the particles entered one at a time and reformed into a circle in my center. They also prevented any of the other particles from getting in. Soon, they were all in, and I closed the wall. It was then that I noticed that as they had entered into my control center, my center had expanded naturally to fit them all in, and I hadn't even been aware of that happening.
Tapping down on my excitement, I repeated the entire procedure for another set of particles. It soon became a lot of easier as the power started to accept me and allow me to control it. In no time at all, I had control of all the power, each separate function of the power secluded in their own little area.
I opened my eyes to peace and calmness around me and sweat covering my body. There was no pain anymore, just the power. It still filled me to bursting, but it no longer consumed me. I looked at the stranger, who stood very proudly in front of me. He nodded his head and smiled a satisfied smile. "You have learned patience, and now you know control. It is time to learn about responsibility." He sat down in front of me, and directed me to my center once again.
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What seemed like days later, though the stranger assured me that it wasn't, he said it was time for me to go.
"Before you go, there is someone who wishes to talk to you," he said, motioning towards an approaching figure.
At first, I didn't recognize who it was. As she got closer, though, I noticed similarities to someone I had met once before, when she had given me my power. "Nataska, it's good to see you again, though I never expected to."
"It is good to see you too, Blackwolf. You have come far, and we are very proud of you. A few words of advice before you leave, though. One, you still don't have full access to your power yet. For now, use it wisely and sparingly. The more you use it, the more tired you will become. As time passes, more power will come to you, and with more power means you'll have more strength. It also means that control over it is twice as important. Once you let it consume you, you will be lost forever. Another thing, in whatever you do, always remind yourself of who you are and what you're fighting for. Losing yourself is just as dangerous as losing control. Lastly, only use your power for good. If it is ever used for other purposes other than protecting those who can't protect themselves, you will be stripped of your powers and will no longer be known as a Protector." Seeing my nod of acceptance, she smiled and asked "Do you have any questions?"
"Just a few. Why did you send this stranger to teach me? Why not teach me yourself? Is he an ancient Protector too?"
"He's not an ancient Protector, but he has served us faithfully. I could not teach you myself because you needed someone whom you thought was impartial. If you had been taught by one you had known, you wouldn't have been as willing to try as hard as you have. Besides, he's not truly a stranger."
"I'm sure if I'd met him before I would've remembered."
Nataska gave a small, knowing smile and just said "Look harder."
I looked at the man that stood behind me. At first glance I noticed everything that I'd noticed before that labeled him a warrior. I then looked again. His eyes stopped me on the second pass-over. I saw the confidence and wisdom that I'd seen before, but I also saw something else. Love for a person, shared memories, and an unbreakable bond for that which he loved most. "Montara?"
Bowing, he said "The one and only."
Confused, I turned back to Nataska and asked "How? Why?"
"You needed to be taught by someone whom you thought was a stranger, but yet loved you and knew you enough to know what your strengths and weaknesses were. Who better than the one who was bound to you tighter than any blood bond could be."
I turned back around and saw Montara in his true form. Kneeling, I opened my arms and took him in my arms for the first time in a long time. Surprisingly, he didn't stay there long. After only a moment, he stepped away and sat next to Nataska.
"Montara?" I asked.
His all to familiar voice entered my head. "It's time for me to go, little sister. I have taught you all that I can, and this was part of the deal. As soon as you learned all about your power, I was to go."
I sat there in stunned silence, letting his words sink in. After awhile, I hung my head and nodded my acceptance. I choked back the tears that formed, but I could not hide the sadness in my eyes as I lifted my head. I didn't even try. I couldn't in this place.
Montara stood back up and padded over to wear I sat one last time. He butted his head into my shoulder, and then licked my face. "I am very proud of you, my daughter. I am honored to have known you."
Finally letting the tears fall, I said "And I you, my father."
He padded back over to Nataska as I stood up.
"Remember all that we have taught you, Blackwolf. Also, never forget that you will never be alone. You might not be able to see or hear Montara anymore after this, he will always be a part of you, as will I" Nataska said. "Now, it is time for you to awaken."
My last vision before I left the Dreamland was a single, silver tear course it's way down Montara's cheek, right before he turned to mist, never to be seen again.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:21:33 GMT -6
blackwolf
Registered Member
Posts: 125
(2/3/04 12:00 am)
Control and Responsibility (Continued)
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*******************************************************
When I awoke, it was early morning, and most were still asleep. I could smell the healing herbs that had been packed into my shoulder, which I knew before even looking was completely healed. I also felt the wetness on my cheeks from the tears I had shed in my dream. I could also feel the power coursing through me, letting me know that it was more than just a dream. I closed my eyes and tried to reach Montara, though I knew it was in vain. Sure enough, all that reached me was silence. I didn't feel empty though, and that was some comfort. Opening my eyes again, my now fully powerful senses told me that something was quite wrong in the short time I was away.
I sat up slowly, making sure that my strength had fully returned. I looked around the room at all who were and were not there. The one that caught my eye immediately was Gabby. Though she was asleep, I could tell something was wrong. Standing, I walked over to her and ran my hands lightly down her body. When I reached her legs, I realized what the problem was. Like me, her pain had been taken from her, but she had no strength. "Don't worry little one. That'll be fixed soon enough." I placed my hands on her leg and found my center. I easily found the tap of strength that I needed and asked the power for it's help. It hestitated for a second as if determining if it was alright, and then did as I asked. My strength flowed into Gabby easily and without problems. After a moment, I shut off the flow and thanked my power for it's help. One thing I had learned was I had to control the power, but I also had to respect it. For now, I needed to earn it's respect before it would allow me to use it whenever I wanted to.
I looked down at Gabby and was happy to note she subconciously shifted her legs in her sleep. She was going to be just fine. Now, to go find my charge. Slipping silently passed the sleeping figures, I grabbed Red's axe and left the house. Out in the morning light, I quickly caught the scent of Sumire and headed in her direction.
Zena 1
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(2/4/04 7:22 pm)
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Closer
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She crouched at the opening and held her breath so that all inside her was still and she could concentrate on all that was not of her. Inside the dark space there were yips from the dog and a low laugh. “Stop, stop Little Dog! Where did you come from? Help me get loose!"
Zena stepped into the frame of the rocks that formed the doorway and with her back to the sun was only a black silhouette in an arch of light. But still, after so many years, the form was recognizable to one who was looking for an anchor in a foggy sea.
“Zena?! Is that you??”
They were fourteen and fifteen years by the end of that autumn season. Their five years with the tribe had made them strong and confident in all ways save two. Zena still could not swim, although Evergreen tutored her during their free times, and Evergreen still had her deep aversion to the dark. They had been sent, in that time that is the warm bittersweet autumn before the snows, to old Eurayle for the burn poultice. As usual, Evergreen ran on ahead to explore and then return to walk again with her sister.
“Do you have to do that?”
“What?” She had just swung down from a sturdy cyprus tree and had landed beside Zena to match her stride.
“Chase off after every leaf that blows or bird that chirps.” The walk was long and Zena preferred conversation to a silent stroll.
“Aww. Don’t be mad. I just like to be alone sometimes.”
“Well I don’t. You could just stay and walk with me. It wouldn’t kill you."
Evergreen assumed a hang dog expression and shuffled her feet as they hiked the trail.
“OK. I’ll walk with you..if it means soooo much to you.”
Zena gave her a playful shove and grinned.
“Want an apple?” Zena always brought lunch.
“Sure. Got one for you?”
“Is my name Zena?”
“Yeah, Zena the hungry. Zena the starving..Zena the mumph..” Evergreen bit into the crisp apple and savored the juice.
“Hey look at that. Was that there the last time we visited Eurayle?” Evergreen called the last of her sentence back to Zena for she was already on the run toward a large hole in the side of the line of hills they had been following.
“WAIT! We don’t have time for side trips! EVERGREEN! WAIT! Oh for the love of Hades!! Oh. I’m not supposed to say that."
Evergreen was gone by the time Zena got to the opening. A damp, cold breeze came from the inside of the cave and Zena was not about to go in without company. Her previous bravado was gone as she waited for some minutes listening at the entrance. Finally in a small voice she called, “Evergreen?"
Far inside another voice drifted back. “Zena, is that you? I can’t find my way back. I went too far!”
The interior of the cave was dimly little for a few yards, and then the light was engulfed by darkness. It was if a wall had been placed there made of some material that was blacker than any earthly thing Zena had seen in her fourteen years. The wall was a real thing and she was sure that if she could touch it with her fingers it would be cold and somehow spongy. Zena’s fear was tiny, she knew, compared to the terror that had by now seized Evergreen. She called again.
“Evergreen?”
“Where are you?” Evergreen called back but seemed farther away than before.
“STOP MOVING! STAY STILL! I will come to you.” How? She felt at her belt for the pouch with the flint and remembered ruefully that it lay where she had left it, on a table in their hut. A child’s mistake that she would never forget. No fire to drive back the darkness. In the outside sun she looked hopefully for a vine to tie around her waist so that she could find her way back to the entrance. The landscape was bare.
“Zeeeeennnnnaaaaa."
She would have to trust that she could find a way out for both of them without any other aid. As she stepped into the cold she thought of the apples in her pack. Breaking them into bits would leave a trail, but a glance at her feet told her that she would never see the pieces in the darkness. It was an act of pure love and courage to follow Evergreen’s voice; at least the would die together so that one would not be left alone.
“Evergreen?”
“Zena?”
“Talk to me..so I can find you.”
“Get us OUT!”
“I will. Talk to me. Sing the song for battle.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. SING IT!"
Silence followed and then a thin voice began,
“Daughters of Artemis, dance beneath the moon."
They alternated lines, and Zena crawled toward the sound.
“Hone your swords! See fates at work upon the mystic loom.”
“A woman is but a single thread that makes the pattern whole,”
“So swear the pledge of loyalty that brings us to our goal,”
“One heart, one mind, one pattern now, it is for this we’re born,”
“The sacred trust of sisterhood tells what is sworn is sworn."
With the last line Zena stretched out her hand and found Evergreen’s arm and in a moment they held tight to each other.
“I gotcha. I gotcha."
There is hope in companionship. The darkness is still around one but somehow it is easier to bear; and perhaps there is a solution after all.
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
Edited by: Zena 1 at: 2/6/04 4:22 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:23:22 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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Posts: 393
(2/12/04 12:29 am)
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To Face Your Fears Standing
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There were two things that Bhen Rudha knew upon waking. One was that Blackwolf was healed of her injury, and two, the other woman was no longer in the house. Where she had once held pain, there was but a fading echo, sign that the wound was gone. She would like to know the story behind the healing, and was glad she had been right when she’d told Sumire that their friend would wake up soon.
Sitting up, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and took a moment to take stock of herself and what else she held. Quickly she found that Gabby was also vastly improved from the night before, and could only figure that it was somehow a gift from Blackwolf. Looking around, she noticed that the sleeping room was quiet, as most of the inhabitants were elsewhere. This would give her a chance to talk, and so, with a smile, she stood and walked over to the young Amazon.
The girl was dozing, though it was late morning. She was an her side, hands folded beneath her cheek, a frown tugging at her lips. When the Red Woman’s shadow fell across her face, Gabby opened her eyes and blinked, “Oh, it’s you,” she said, sounding tired and sad.
“Aye, little one, be jest me. How dae ye be feelin’?”
“Ok I guess,” Gabby shrugged, then continued, “At least I don’t feel any pain.” The young Amazon sighed and bit her lip, trying to keep the worry she felt from showing too much, “Though I can’t walk.”
Realizing suddenly that she had assumed the girl would know what was going on, Bhen Rudha knelt and said, “Och, I be sorra Gabby, dinnae be thinkin’ tae much. Dinnae be worried abou’ yer walkin’, aye? Be nae nothin’ more than me holdin’ yer pain.” When the girl only looked puzzled, she tried again, “Em, be yer legs dinnae know wha’ ta be doin’ as they dinnae be feelin’ anathin’.”
“You mean it has nothing to do with the burns?” Hope flared brightly in the girl’s eyes.
“Nae . . . ye dinnae be breakin’ yer back, jest boiled yer legs. When they be set ta rights again, ye be walkin’ fer certain.” She smiled, happy to be able to ease at least one fear, and watched several emotions flash across Gabby’s face . . . relief, worry and not a little guilt. Puzzled by the last, the Red Woman asked, “Wha’ be, Gabby? Wha’ dae ye worra at still?”
The young Amazon looked away a moment, biting her lip. She took a breath or two before speaking, her words nearly too soft to hear, “I’m sorry you have to hold the pain for me. I wish I was stronger.” She scrubbed at her cheek, sighing heavily.
“Ahh, leanbh, child, dinnae.” Bhen Rudha gathered the girl’s hands in her own. “I be happy ta be able ta be carryin’ tha burden fer ye. Ye dinnae deserve such a thin’, an’ I be knowin’ tha’ tha Lady be placin’ me here ta be protectin’ ye.”
“But why? Why you?” Gabby asked, still to guilt ridden to understand what the other was saying.
“When I be learnin’ ta be a priestess, I be told tha’ all life be pain, leanbh. Dinnae be anathin’ ta be done abou’ it. Jest is, aye? Nae matter hae happy a person cen be, there be pain an’ sorrow tae. Tha’ difference fer me, is tha’ tha Goddess be gi’en’ me tha strength ta be holdin’ all tha pain I be findin’, an’ tha wisdom ta be knowin’ pain be fleetin’.” She brushed a strand of hair from Gabby’s face and smiled, before continuing, “Sae dinnae be cryin’ fer me. When I be acceptin’ tha ravens on me back, I be knowin’ tha price o’ it. An’ ye be more than worth it, aye?”
Instead of responding, Gabby threw her arms around the Red Woman’s neck and hugged tightly, no longer stifling her crying. Though the sobs, she confessed, “I . . . I don’t want to be left behind . . . scarred and . . . stuck in this bed.”
“No, Geabach, no,” she said, giving the girl’s name the lilt of her homeland. “Dinnae. Ye could ne’er be left behind. Yer máthair would ne’er allow it. She be lovin’ ye tae much.” As she spoke, she rose and sat on the edge of the bed, gathering the girl closer. Rubbing a soothing hand down Gabby’s back, she continued to murmur softly in Gaeilge, prepared to wait out the storm.
When the sobs had finally faded into shuddering breaths, and red rimmed blue eyes looked up into her own, Bhen Rudha asked softly, “Dae ye really be believin’ we could be leavin’ ye?”
The girl shook her head, took a breath and then said, “But what if you had to . . .”
“If’n ye were tha strong one, an’ yer máthair be tha weak one, dae ye be thinkin’ ta be leavin’ her?”
Memories of clinging to Zena’s hand while the ground tried to shake her loose filled her mind. She could hear their conversation in her ear, as if it were happening again nearby . . .
“Let go of me. Please!”
“No. Punish me later!”
“I swear I will, if I’m not dead!”
She remembered not letting go . . . of not wanting to let go . . . of vowing to never let go . . . and shook her head again.
“Then hae cen ye be thinkin’ Zena would be lettin’ ye go, eh?”
How had she let herself believe that the others would leave her behind so easily? Less than a month had passed since she had clung so desperately to the most important person in her life, and it seemed she had forgotten how tightly bound they all were. Instead she had let her wandering mind pull up her deepest fears and believed them.
“I was afraid that because I could not help anymore, they would leave me to find someone else who could.”
Bhen Rudha tsked, and tightened her hug. “Ye be injured, be nae yer fault. Ye cen nae be faulted fer tha’, an’ e’eryone be knowin’.”
Gabby nodded, then sighed and said, “I guess I’m just tired of being stuck in this bed, and so I let all these thoughts get out of hand.”
“Oh, aye, I cen be knowin’ wha’ ye be meanin’. An’ I thin’ I cen be helpin’ ye. Hae would ye be likin’ a bath? Be washin’ yer hair like I be doin’ fer Kaia. Be soundin’ good, aye?”
The young Amazon relaxed and nodded, her lips turning up in the ghost of a smile, “Aye Red, I think I would like that very much.”
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:24:04 GMT -6
1 Xwpfan
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Posts: 1353
(2/12/04 7:57 am)
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Catch me if you can
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Xendra watched wistfully as Vania raced ahead freely and unfettered from fear or worry. Xendra wished she could be that carefree again,but knew in her heart those days were long past.
When Vania realized she had raced nearly out of Xendra's sight she stopped turned around and began waving and gesturing with a bounced step for Xendra to catch up.
Xendra smiled and yelled back",Stay right there. Let me catch up to you little one."
Vania was a bundle of energy she could hardly contain herself.Standing still was just not an option.Vania pointed to a rocky area indicating she would meet Xendra there, Xendra nodded back with an exaggerated nod.
Vania lost no time she scurried towards the rocks and in an instant was scrambling to climb the biggest rock to show Xendra how brave she was.
Xendra had quickly closed the gap, and could see Vania trying to make her way to the top of the rock,as Vania approached the top Xendra lifted her eyes a bit to see Vania's expression .
It was but an instant but xendra's eyes were averted from Vania's face to a strong but brief glint of light shining off metal in the distance behind Vania .
Fear struck Xendra's heart her only thought was it had to be Romans. Romans carried and wore metal. Out of a gut reaction and without thinking Xendra hurriedly waved for Vania to come down, but being but a little girl Vania thought the hurried gesture meant for her to JUMP down.
Without hesitation or fear Vania hurled herself off the edge of the rock. Xendra watched in complete horror as Vania leapt off the rock and crashed into the smaller rocks below.
Everything around Xendra became blurry as she raced to Vania's side, nothing else mattered except getting to Vania and seeing if she was okay.Vania's little body was bloodied and motionless.Xendra cradled her in her arms and listened for sounds of breathing.There were labored sounds of breath, but she was still alive. Xendra looked around where could she take her to?
Tears were streaming down Xendra's face as she picked Vania up to carry her to an undecided destination.Xendra found her self begging the gods not to let her lose yet another child...
Xendra was running with definite purpose but no real destination in mind, they had ventured far from the safety of Kaisa's. Was there someone closer in the village she could take her to? The only other person Xendra even knew in the village besides Kaisa was Frieda Rose but what good would a blind weaver do a hurt child?
Xendra looked down at Vania, to race into the depth of town would risk that most of the town's people would think that Xendra had injured Vania.
As blood contiuned to stream out of Vania, Xendra decided she did not have time to worry about what the townsfolk might think or worry about disturbing someone's sleep.Xendra was going to knock on doors until someone would let them in and give them help.
Edited by: 1 Xwpfan at: 2/12/04 10:38 am
Zena 1
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Posts: 885
(2/12/04 5:58 pm)
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Friends, Romans, Sisters
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It was the voice that brought her in, and then in the dim light she also recognized the form. A small compact body, knees pulled up and dressed in Roman attire, but still the form of a friend. Zena dropped her sword and stepped over it as it hit the packed earth, giving out a resonant protest. In two strides she was across the floor and sitting hip to hip with Evergreen. Their heads gently touched at the forehead and then each came to rest on the shoulder of the other. Time passed: a second, a minute, an hour, a century. Who can say how time is marked in the presence of a loved one?
At last Zena pulled back and slid her hand along the sticky surface of Evergreen’s arm to the wrist. Blood. She was tied tightly to the stake driven into the mud floor and had torn her flesh as she twisted against the restraints. Wordlessly Zena pulled her dagger from her belt and cut the leather thong that bound her sister. Zena secured her dagger again with one eye to Evergreen who stiffly stretched her arms out into her lap. The dog inched his way in to put his head under her freed hands and offered his silky ears for a scratch. With an absent minded gesture she obliged him.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Evergreen shook her head. “No. No. I am fine.” For the first time they both took stock of her armor and the white pro-consul’s cloak she still wore.
“Interesting costume. Going to a party?"
Evergreen did not laugh at Zena’s simple joke and seemed confused by the garb and her surroundings. Only the two living beings seemed familiar to her. She whispered to Zena, “Where are we?”
The depth of the darkness was unimaginable and Zena could not see Evergreen’s face. “I don’t know how far in we are. Why did you go in when it was so dark?”
“I..I..I didn’t think at first. I was curious and when I turned a corner it was so dark that I wasn’t sure which way I turned. Zena?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“We won’t get out...and it’s so dark...and you could have been safe back home if you hadn’t come in here..”
“Shh. There is no home without you. We’ll get out. There HAS to be a way, after all we’re Amazons!” It was the first time she had said it and believed it. She had memorized the words of the songs and done the war dances as gracefully as her fourteen year old lanky form could manage, but her heart was still with her little village by the sea. In the darkness of certain death she found her warrior’s heart in her adopted identity, and in her adopted sister.
“We are safe, for now.” Zena wiped the blood from Evergreen’s arms and wrapped some cloth around the wounds at her wrist. At least the pro-consul’s cloak had some use. Evergreen ran the finely woven fabric through her fingers and saw the Roman Emperor’s image fashioned in the metal of her breastplate and the empty dagger sheath at her belt.
“Get this off of me!"
She began to yank at the armor in a frenzied gesture to rid herself of the offensive Roman items.
“Stop..stop..STOP!"
Zena took her by the shoulders and held her firmly until she stopped moving. Alarmed by the emotion, the dog sat up and whimpered. Evergreen was breathing hard and her eyes were begging for an explanation from the one who always kept a level head.
“Do you trust me?” Zena whispered and Evergreen nodded.
“Have I always been truthful with you?” Evergreen nodded again.
“I will tell you what I know.” Zena began to relate what she knew of Evergreen’s life since they had been apart.
“Of course I trust you..but I can’t move. Please. I can’t. Isn’t there another way?”
“Not that I can think of..do YOU have a plan??”
“I’m thinking.”
“Well, while you are thinking, the light outside is failing. We must move now. Get down flat and keep one hand on my boot.” Suddenly Zena had assumed the role of commander as was the Amazon custom in times of peril. As they inched along, Zena reached out blindly in front of her to feel for the tracks she had made as she had crawled in. The floor of the cave was fortunately composed of a soft earth and her fingertips sensed the furrows that her boots had made. They were moving toward the entrance, but very slowly. It is a truth that progress of any sort lifts the heart and makes the impossible seem possible.
“I don’t believe it. I mean I believe YOU..it just seems so impossible.” Zena had raised an eyebrow at Evergreen, causing her to retract her statement. As they talked they both worked at the buckles and fastenings that held the armor to Evergreen’s body.
“You are not safe in this area. The locals have seen you and your army knows your face.”
“They’re not my army,” Evergreen growled. Zena sighed and shrugged.
“Your armor says otherwise to anyone who sees you. We must move now.”
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
Edited by: Zena 1 at: 2/14/04 7:15 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:25:37 GMT -6
phalon1
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Posts: 2000
(2/18/04 10:40 am)
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Green Leaves
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A man may be an opportunist, or even a bit unscrupulous in his willingness to seize whatever advantages lay before him. He will do anything to feed himself and his family, anything to better his lot in life, and supplement his meager existence. That did not necessarily make him a bad man, though. This is what he tried to convince himself of as he desperately worked against the binds around his wrists that held him to the tree.
It had been a miserable night. Left alone with his thoughts and demons in the dark, he began to question the unsavoriness of his actions, and it left an acrid taste in his mouth and a feeling of uncleansiness that the rain could not wash away.
Once, during the night, he heard the thundering sound of hoof beats over the noise of the storm. The chill that entered his body had nothing to do with the cold rain soaking through his clothing. Even in the darkness of the night forest he saw that the man on horseback was the one called Apollinarius – the one who rode off on this great black stallion after the Consul, and he knew he’d come back to kill him. His self-importance was delusional, and his misconception of his worth to the Roman commander, laughable. The truth was that Apollinarius hadn’t given another thought to the petty man once he’d ordered him taken into the forest and tied to a tree, and perhaps, in the back of the man’s mind, he realized this when he saw the horse and rider pass by just yards from where he sat frozen with fear. Seeds of doubt and unworthiness crept into his mind. He amounted to nothing in the grand scheme of things. It was not always so…not in his earlier years. He was a man of honor then – a respected man with commendable principle, but life had taken its toll and he became what he became – repugnant, little man without conscience. He shuddered, partly because of this realization, and partly from the relief that, at least at this moment, he was not going to die - mostly from the latter. He thanked the gods for this reprieve and his jubilation over still being able to breath caused him to offer them a vow that if he’d ever get free, he’d turn over a new leaf.
It had taken him nearly all night, but when the sun’s first rays filtered through the leafy green canopy overhead, he had worked himself free.
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
EvergreenLM
Posts: 382
(2/29/04 7:18 am)
Reply BANISHED
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It seemed an eternity, shackled in darkness. My wrist throb, raw, blood is caked under my nails, with the exposed flesh stinging from the sweat running down my arms.
Thrace…she said I am to go to Thrace and not return. How can she ask that of me? I have wandered about the landscape many a time without my sisters, but I always knew where they would be…waiting… with no harsh retort regarding my solitary adventures when I found my way back home.
My mind is a whirlpool of thoughts and I balance on the edge trying not to fall into the oblivion of confusion. The familiar sound of her voice and commanding presence is comforting. I do not understand how all is came to be this way, but I am to assume she speaks the unconscionable truth. Zena does not lie so therefore the bitter words swirl in my cup like stale wine.
The uniform shed in great haste bears cold witness to my sin. I have betrayed those I love and have maneuvered them into a place of great peril. And now my atonement is to be cut from the body and sent away without the usual clasp of forearm to forearm with my sisters. A gesture of the bond we share as no others. So be the price of my unwitting part in a scheme of my very own creation.
I sit on the damp earthen floor awaiting Zena to bring the horse. The air gently blows in and I smell the fragrance of change. Winter to Spring signaling the promise of the once again newness of the surrounding countryside. We had planned to return to the sea by summer and spend our warm sunfilled days living near the shore until autumn called our names to move on.
I absent mindedly caress the back of soft ears, draw my knees up placing my chin against the smooth leather breeches. For a moment, the delicate scent of mountain laurel fills my mind and I am waiting for a soft touch to my ears as mine lovingly given to the small dog at my side. But it does not come and with my eyes closed, I rub my cheek upon my knees and feel that I am leaving something…another not named...behind
My thumb, of its own volition, seeks out a band of metal to twirl, but finds the finger bare. My thoughts, like footprints in the sand, are washed away as quickly as they take shape leaving nothing but the vast expanse of the dark sea keeping its secrets within its deep and abiding unknowns.
“Are you ready?” Zena stands above me as I tilt my head off my knees looking upward to a face pained with the certainty of what now must be done.
Drawing in a deep breath, I extend my hand, and in an instance, I am pulled to my feet. With hands clasped, we stand for a moment not ready to part, searching the other's face, communicating in a way we have always done… beyond words…beyond sentiments.
“If I must." My words almost an inaudible whisper. "If for the best of the others, then I will do this…perhaps this is the only way I can now amend what I have done and offer what little protection it affords all of you. You know I did not mean…I would never…”
Zena places her long fingers over my lips as she shakes her head ‘no’.
“We will not speak of this…not now…nor if… when… we meet again.”
I find myself wrapped in strong arms and I think that I may not ever find such strength in all of the remainder of my days. We have never fallen into saying the words of goodbye. For us, there was never a thought that we should be separated and never rejoined. Until this day, this time, when the probability of the fates placing us into different worlds looms like storm clouds on a distant horizon.
“When we meet again”… I step up into the stirrup,seat my self with hips jutting forward, grab the reins, and reach out to accept the small sack of fruit and cheese. Our fingers linger for a moment before she passes the small token to me. I smile down at my friend, my companion, my sister…
“I would imagine I will find a red apple or two inside to share with the horse…” who is now stamping from side to side with anticipation of our long journey.
Zena smiles, and without words, slaps the horse’s haunches sending me on my path to a life unknown, but secure in the memories of her and my sister Amazons. Home now resides in my heart.
"We're stuff of the soul Gabrielle."
Edited by: EvergreenLM at: 2/29/04 1:59 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:26:33 GMT -6
1 Xwpfan
Posts: 1388
(2/29/04 8:57 am)
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By the Gods! Let me in...!
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Xendra carefully negotiated Vania's weight onto her left arm so that she could free her right hand to knock on the the stranger's door .Xendra used the base of her wrist to hit the door with a thunderous thud as she screamed "Somebody help us ! let us in by the Gods let me in, I have a hurt child!'
The silence was deafening,it seemed endless.
Xendra didnt have time to be polite or to listen to silence so after just after a few seconds Xendra began kicking the base of the door as she accussingly hollered " I know your in there ! Her blood will be in your head if something happens! Please please Come help us!"
Xendra could see the neighbors peeking out there windows but she didnt care because they'd be next if someone didnt answer soon.
Xendra was distracted by Vania's labored moan and did not see the door swing wide until a woman reached out and scooped Vania into her own arms. Startled Xendra stood there a half second unsure of what happened and then without thought followed the woman inside.
Had Xendra had time or thought to look around she would have seen how quaint the cottage was and how much like Frieda Rose the woman looked like but all that had Xendra's attention was the one thing that mattered most, Vania.
The woman laid Vania out on a bed and and talked in soothing tones as she tended to Vania's head injury and inquired of Xendra how Vania came to be hurt.
Xendra was racked with guilt and worry .Xendra covered herface with her hands when she did so Vania's blood went from Xendra's hands to her face, her face was now crimson but soon streaks of clear began to appear as Xendra began to openly cry before the strange woman.
Xendra sobbed as she explained to the strange woman "Her blood is on my hands, if she dies,it is all my fault. Don't let her die please! I can't lose her, I just just can't!"
Xendra got up and began to pace back and forth as the woman examined and cleaned Vania's wounds and then carefully stitched Vania's gash on her forehead as well as the open wound on the crown of the head itself.
Xendra was blaming and doubting her self with each step.
" Why didn't I just stay in? Why did I have to go for a walk If I had only stayed in she wouldnt have gotten hurt.Vania wouldnt have been out following me ... she wouldnt have run ahead and then she wouldn't have misunderstood my instructions to get down and she wouldnt have gotten hurt .
I am to blame."
Xendra circled round to get a better look at Vania as she did she said aloud almost as an afterthought said, "I should let her family know."
The strange woman flatly said,"You're not part of this girl's family?"
"No I am not apart of Vania's family, I am but a visitor, I am staying at Kaisa's."
The woman exclaimed ,"Ahhh. You are one of Them, I thought as much, but when you were so caring and passionate about getting help for this child I doubted myself."
"Yes, I am one of Them and when news of Vania's injury hits the village I am afraid my friends and myself will be in even more peril.The townspeople will blame her death on the me and the Amazons and will seek our deaths as well. Why are you not afraid of me, Why are you so willing to help?
The strange woman quickly looked up and said "First off stop filling your head with that nonsense you're telling yourself!" The child is unconcious but she will be ok in a day or two!
Secondly,any person who is as passionate and caring about seeking help for a child cannot be that bad, and three If you had been dangerous I am able to take care of myself quite well thank you"
Xendra lit up at the words going to be ok and did not really hear what came after that all she cared about was Vania "Really she's going to be ok?!That's wonderful !Oh Thank you and gave the woman a giant hug and squeeze . That's terrific news!"
The woman looked at Xendra and said,' Yes, she'll be alright ,but she can't be moved for atleast two days.
When she does wake up she'll be sore and her head will hurt alot but she will be ok."
"Two days? I should let her family know right now then!"
The strange woman cut Xendra off,"You are going No where! You have blood on your face and clothes if the townspeople see that you will surely be taken in on the spot.
No, I will let my eldest boy take a message to Kaisa and I will let my other boy go get Frieda Rose."
"Freida Rose!?! Why Frieda? You know that is really funny I had intended to go see her later today to have a tunic and pants made for Vania as a surprise."
The woman quickly explained,"Both you and Vania have bloodied clothes you can not be seen walking about with blood on you, Frieda can make you new clothes for you to wear when Vania is well.
You might as well make yourself at home, I think you'll be here for awhile."
Edited by: 1 Xwpfan at: 3/1/04 8:25 pm
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:27:37 GMT -6
phalon1
Posts: 2027
(3/1/04 10:47 am)
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A Forest of Withered Intentions
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His hands now free, he sat for a moment taking stock of his predicament. The flesh on his wrists was rubbed raw from working all night against the rope that bound them. His limbs were stiff and aching from being immobile for such a long period of time, and though he longed to jump up and run as far away from this location as quickly as possible, he feared if he did so, they would give out as soon as he stood.
In addition, he was in the middle of the forest quite near the Roman camp where there were men, he was sure, who would not care a bit if he never saw another day in this world, and might even hasten his journey into the next. The Roman soldier charged with the task of taking him deep into the forest never to be found again, had not quite done his task as well as he was ordered, and the little man had paid close attention to where the Roman led him before getting tired of tramping through the thick underbrush in the driving rain, and hastily tying him to the next sturdy tree they came upon.
He thanked the Gods for this bit of Roman laziness, for it would not take him long to find his way back to the road which cut through the forest, and although he could not travel that road for fear of being discovered by the Romans, it would provide a point to which he could get his bearings and make his way back to his home and his wife. He could travel much faster by picking his way through the woods than by taking the winding road anyway. He knew these woods. The forest, he considered his companion, his provider, and in some ways, his wife – for he was married to her, and had been since he was a small boy helping his father, a huntsman by trade, set traps and stalking small game which they prepared and sold the meat and pelts in the village marketplace. He had followed in his father’s footsteps, he and his wife curing the meats and drying the pelts on racks outside their small home in the forest, and spent more time with her – this forest wife of his – then he did with his human one. She talked to him – the leaves whispering as the wind passed through them, the trunks of the great trees groaning as they swayed, and the crackle of brush under his feet. He knew every part of her intimately...every beech grove, stand of pines, and those most majestic of giants - the great oaks held sacred to the God, Zeus. It was the tree from which man had sprung, and though he would never dream of cutting its wood, for that would surely bring bad luck upon his home – and he’d had his fill of that during his life - he accepted its gift of acorns, using their oil to sweeten the meat they cured, and always left a small offering at its trunk when he did so, thanking the giant for being such a bountiful provider.
No, he was not worried about being lost out in these woods and was anxious to get on his way. He slowly rotated his shoulders, wincing at the pain from the stiffness that had settled in his back and neck. He tentatively rose to his feet, sure the entire Roman camp could hear the creaking of his bones, and clasped his hands together and stretched his arms high over his head. As he did this, he felt the roughness of something under his tunic, scratching at his side. By the gods, he’d almost forgotten it. The parchment!!!
A cold chill started in the small of his stiff back, and crept up the entire length of his spine, bristling the hairs on the back of his neck and ending with a tingling at the top of his skull when he remembered his own words, uttered incredulously when he first read the scroll last night, “All of them…you will kill all the people in the village if they do not turn over this Evergreen…and the others that accompany her?”
The scene replayed in his mind in horrific clarity. The Consul’s last words as she left the tent and before the other one had ordered him tied up in the forest … “Apollinarius, make sure he gets to the village and post the declaration as ordered. If I have not returned by the noon day sun, raze the village…to the ground…to the very ground if the one called Evergreen, those with her, and those harboring them… has not been turned over to the troops. Chain them all and wait for me…”
But she had not returned. Being as close to the road as he was, he would have heard her pass by during the night. Though day had just broke, could this mean…the unthinkable? If he left now…if he hurried, he could make it back to his hut, collect his wife and a few of their meager belongings, and be far, far away from the village when the Romans descended upon it. Could he do that though? Could he just leave them to die mercilessly without giving warning? The vow he made to the gods, uttered in his desperation, returned to haunt him and he knew he could not. It was his doing - because of him revealing where this Evergreen was, that this hideous order had been issued. It was surely a one-way pass into Tartarus should he deny his duty.
He was about to turn and run, and head to the town where the innocent villagers where just beginning their day, unknowing that it would most likely be their last, when he heard muffled voices nearby. He froze in fear. He would be found out, and then it wouldn’t matter whatever good intentions he had that might redeem him. Scarcely breathing for fear that they would hear, he listened intently, straining to make out their words.
“It has been done.” The little man recognized the voice of Apollinarius. “Do you want me to ready the men to march upon the village?” The second voice came, and was the one of the man who led him into the forest.
“That was her plan! Not mine! I am in command now and every order she ever issued, every decree ever written by her, from this point is void. The attack on the village is a waste of time, and a needless risk. We will return to Rome as soon as we break camp, and tell the old woman that the battle was hard fought, but it is our regret to inform her that her daughter…Consul to the House of Justinian, Leara of Rome, is dead. Struck down by the sword of Evergreen of the Amazons. I, in turn, issued justice by slicing the Amazons throat, and thus honoring the good name of the late Senator and his House. I will be made a hero, his wife will bestow me the title of Consul, which should have been mine to begin with, and will consider me her trusted advisor. I’ll appoint you my second in command and together we will rule this House – its power, it’s wealth – it will all be ours. And she, Leara”, he spat the name as if it were poison on his lips, “will slowly rot in that cave, driven mad by what she ordered done to her sisters and the one she loved.”
“Driven mad? You did not kill her then, as planned? Do you think that wise?”
“DO NOT question my actions! Ever!” He paused before continuing, “But to answer your question – No, I did not kill her. Oh no…a slice of my sword would have been too easy a death for her. I planted a seed. Hinted at who she truly was…Evergreen…the one she herself set out to kill, the one who betrayed her sisters and ordered the razing of a village in which Vassaly resides. Let her ponder that while she’s bound and gagged, starving slowly to death in that musty, dank shepherds’ cave.”
“What if she manages to escape”, the co-conspirator hesitantly asked.
“What if she does? If by some chance she is found before her mind is taken by madness, she can never show her face in Rome. She will not return as Leara – her pride would not allow it, and well…if she returns claiming to be Evergreen, it is a sure death sentence.”
The little man listening in could not believe what had just been handed him. The town was safe. The shepherds’ cave….he knew it well. With amazing stealth and litheness for a man with his stout stature and girth of belly, without sound, he turned to make his way towards Kaisa’s and the Amazons. As the oath he swore to the gods promising that he would return to being a just person withered like the dry, crumbling leaves in his beloved forest in autumn, he wondered just how much the Amazons would pay for the knowledge of what lie in that cave.
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
Edited by: phalon1 at: 3/1/04 10:55 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:28:51 GMT -6
Zena 1
Zena Scrolls Host
Posts: 903
(3/6/04 10:00 pm)
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When We Meet Again
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The moment comes when you must do the thing you have dreaded for all your life. It bears down upon you like an avalanche in the hills; unescapable and crushing. There is no remedy to try, no bargain to be made, no hope of delay. It simply will come and it will be faced.
The horses nose was warm and soft against her cheek and the tears that escaped the back of her hand rolled off the gray velvet. She stopped at the entrance to the cave and wiped her face with her sleeve and set her jaw. It must be done. In the cool darkness one last time Zena offered her hand to help Evergreen to her feet.
“Are you ready?"
On her feet again Evergreen held the hands that pulled her so often back to life, and words being useless now, embraced her sister. They were mismatched in size yet a perfect fit, a compliment to each other. Zena held her sister tightly feeling the inevitable moment drawing close, and slowly she released her grip. Outside she helped Evergreen into the stirrup with a smile.
“You are always just a little too small to reach the stirrup without a rock or tree stump to help."
Evergreen nods. “Or a sister.”
“Or a sister. I will always be with you..you know that don’t you?”
“I do. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
Zena handed up the only thing she had to give, the last of the food she had brought that morning from Kaisa’s. For one more moment they let their fingers touch, to hold back what must come. In the sack, wrapped in a bit of cloth, Zena has placed the ring Evergreen gave her when they were young girls. Later, alone at a campfire Evergreen will find it and only the forest will hear her sobs.
“Remember, you promised me I will not die alone.”
“I remember.”
“Promise again.”
“I promise. We will be old women together.... I would imagine I will find a red apple or two inside to share with the horse…”
The horse stamps from side to side with anticipation of the long journey and Zena hands the small dog up to his owner. It is a long way to Thrace for four little paws.
“When we meet again”
“What is sworn is sworn."
A slap to the horses haunches sends them down the road and Zena stands as if anchored by iron shackles to the spot until she knows that Evergreen can no longer see the hand she holds up.
“We’re out!!! We’ve found the entrance!! Zena we made it!! I love you!!”
“I love you too but if you ever run off again Evergreen, I swear by the right hand of Artemis that..” But she was all ready yards ahead, leaping and savoring her release. Zena finished her statement silently, in her own heart.
“I swear I will always find you. Until we are both in the Elysian Fields together.”
“Who was that Zee?” Apollo stared up at her, perplexed.
“No one, and everything. Mount up. We must get to Kaisa’s before dark."
She turned quickly from him and the boy sensed a sharpness in her that had not been shown before. They rode hard for the town, brigand in tow, and the sun set as they arrived both on the earth and in Zena’s heart.
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
phalon1
Posts: 2055
(3/8/04 10:53 am)
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Out of the Woods
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He made his way, slowly and carefully at first, using the rays of sun filtering through the canopy of trees above to guide him. He wasn’t far from the road when he heard the bark of a dog, and fear again crept into him. The Romans had sent the dogs to hunt him down! Perspiration glistened his brow, and again he thought of the vow he’d uttered to the gods that if he made it out of this alive, he’d change and become a better man. The dog, though, ignored his scent, intent on following the trail of someone or something else. A riderless horse followed the little beast, and a bit further behind, two more horses, these with riders. The hoof beats continued down the road, and the man breathed a sigh of relief. Just passersby, he thought, no need to panic.
He continued to pluck his way through the brush and it wasn’t too long before he was on familiar ground, and his pace quickened. It was at this point he began to relax, and turn his mind to formulating a plot to get the Amazons to pay him for the information he held. They didn’t have much in the way of silver, he supposed, but trinkets, jewelry and weapons made out of precious metals might add up to a collection worth a healthy sum. He’d heard of their “sisterhood”, and knew that they would willingly give up any possession they held in order to save one of their own. He’d have to be careful though. They were an unruly lot – savages – and he’d heard tales of how they’d strike a man down just for looking at them. He, perhaps, should fear them more than he feared the Romans he’d just escaped from.
By the time the forest gave way to the thicket on her outskirts, which filtered into the meadow and the town just beyond, it was nearly midday and his plan was set. He’d appeal first to Kaisa’s daughter – Phalon was her name. It was so long ago, but he thought she might have some remembrance of him, and perhaps even a sentimental soft spot in what he imagined to be her cold, barbaric Amazon heart.
* * * * *
They each arrived at the door of Kaisa’s at the same time, neither noticing the other, heads bent and both caught up in their own thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry”, said she, as they reached for the door handle at the same time, touching hands. “I didn’t even see you, I was in such a hurry. I’ve got to warn….I’ve got…uhm…pressing matters to attend.” She looked up, studied his face for a moment before the recognition showed on her own. “Phineas!!!”, she exclaimed, as she threw her arms around him in an embrace.
The remembrance, hearing her voice again after all these wasted years, and the warmth of her greeting, brought alive again something in his withered soul, and he knew even before he looked into her green eyes, moist with tears which would transport him back to a time when his life was good and full, that all his plans made on the trek here, would never be laid forth. And that, he thought, would be alright. From her, he would gain something far more valuable than a pocket full of silver.
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:30:30 GMT -6
phalon1
Posts: 2099
(3/19/04 11:05 am)
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Breaking Bread and Broken Hearts
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Outside the door to Kaisa’s they stood. The twenty years since she had seen him last were not as kind to him as they had been to Kaisa. Kaisa had matured into her role as grandmother and matriarch of the family willingly and gracefully. He, on the other hand, was haggard and broken. They had both lost a child that day – she a daughter, lost to a flight from madness and self-imposed exile, and he a son, lost at the hands of Roman ruthlessness. It was the daughter, returned from the dead, who gazed at him now, the look of recognition slow to cross her face. It took a moment, for his was a face that was so changed from the one full of life that she had known, but when the recognition did come, she did not hesitate in throwing her arms around him in embrace.
“Phineas!!!” Phalon exclaimed, holding him tightly. The son he had lost was her Athan - her love, and the loss of him had forever changed the both of them. She had taken all the pain associated with that loss, wadded it up in a ball, and kept it at the core of her heart as a reminder of who she was, and what she almost became because of it. His pain exuded from him still, surrounded him like a thick fog in which it was impossible to see through to the man he once was.
She let go of him and they stood, holding forearms. She took stock of him and saw the grime upon his face, his muddied, torn clothing and the ugly, raw rope burns at his wrists. “The Romans!” she gasped, guessing the cause of his condition, and unable to keep the word from coming out of her mouth. She looked towards the house, her eyes wide, and he could imagine the fear she felt at the possibility of having her newly regained family ripped from her again.
“Not to worry, Phalon”, he said. “They are not coming here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. Before I escaped, I overheard their plans to leave for Rome immediately”, he reassured.
The relief Phalon felt was visible. “Thank the gods”, she sighed, massaging her temple, then running her hand back through her long hair. Her fingers twined through the thick mass and when they reached the nape of her neck, they grabbed a large handful and gently pulled back, tilting her face upwards, towards the sun. With her eyes closed, she stood like that for a moment, the warmth of the sun on her face, and let some of the tension drain from her.
Phineas sifted uncomfortably, unsure of whether he should interrupt her moment, or not. Maybe she was in one of those weird trances he heard she was capable of going into. He nervously cleared his throat, and Phalon opened her eyes. “Uh, excuse me”, she said. “Just had to take a moment there. It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?” He nodded in agreement.
“Pardon my lack of manners, Phineas. You look as if you are due a rest. Come in, have something to eat, and sit awhile.”
Phineas hesitated, though he was both exhausted and famished. He knew Kaisa would welcome him into her house, for that was the kind of woman she was – generous and forgiving and always willing to help wherever she could. He had taken advantage of her generosity over the years, first without meaning to, then later, intentionally. Perhaps it was because he and his wife in the beginning shared an envy that they were without their beloved child and Kaisa, though her daughter had left, still had a son at home. Eventually, the envy turned to bitterness as Gelasuis and his wife, Damaris, surrounded Kaisa with grandchildren, and they, themselves, would never know that kind of love. When the hunt was scarce and times were lean, they knew they could always count on Kaisa to let them purchase the items they needed from the shop on credit. In the beginning, though it may have taken awhile, they always settled their bill. Gradually, the payments became fewer and farther between, and never in full. It was her own fault; he and his wife told each other. If that was the way she ran her business, handing out things to whoever asked, well, then she deserved what she got, or more appropriately, what little she got. They told themselves this to alleviate their guilt. But his guilt now, standing here talking with her daughter that his dead son had loved so deeply, hit him full in the face, and he did not know if he could face Kaisa.
Phalon seemed to sense this, (he should have know she would), and said, “Come on, Phineas. You look weary. We can go out to the courtyard, sit and eat alone, where no one will bother us. You cannot return home to your wife in this condition. She will drop dead of fright at the sight of you.”
Phineas laughed nervously and reluctantly agreed, following Phalon through the door. As she promised, they sat in the courtyard basked in the light of the midday sun, surrounded by Kaisa’s garden. Kaisa appeared with a tray and a cask of wine – the same wine Phalon had sworn off just this morning and she wondered if her mother ever ran out of the stuff. She nodded and smiled at Phineas, gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek and left them alone.
Their conversation was halted at first, stiff and a bit uncomfortable. They exchanged polite pleasantries – how’ve you been, how’s your wife, what have you been up to all these years – things that acquaintances might talk about as they passed each other in the market. As they ate, the warmth of the sun and wine had its effect, and the conversation became more relaxed and eventually turned towards the bond they shared – the young man they both loved.
Neither had spoken of him much in the years following his death. Phalon kept him close to her heart always, but in her travels, physically, she was removed from any link to him, and saw no purpose in bringing him into conversations with her companions. It simply had never come up.
He though, had made a conscious effort not to talk about Athan – not even with his wife. Both parents long ago had erected impenetrable walls about themselves individually. But instead of keeping the pain out, those unbreachable walls kept it locked inside. The few times they did speak of him together, it was always with a tone of despair over their loss.
This conversation with Phalon though, took on a different tone, and he felt the wall begin to crumble as they spoke of the things they both loved about Athan – his kind heart, warm smile and gentle, playful humor. Memories Phineas had forbid himself to think about began to surface. He grew comfortable with Phalon and discovered that she still possessed the qualities that his son fell in love with, despite all the rumors surrounding her of sorcery and barbarism. And he found a bit of his old self, which he had seemed to misplace long ago, return.
They exchanged stories and laughed until the shadows grew longer as the sun began to sink. “I remember when Athan first discovered he loved you”, he began. “It was long before he would admit it to anyone – least of all to you. You were both children then – perhaps of about 10 or 11 years of age. He stole your doll and was holding it for ransom – all a ploy to see you.”
“Oh, I remember that doll”, Phalon said. “It was a rag-doll mom had made for me when I was little, and she could not believe I was still dragging it around years later. I guess I didn’t want to give up childhood just yet. I took it everywhere and was crushed when it came up missing. Athan left a note, saying if I wanted it returned to meet him at the Shepard’s cave and….”
“By the gods, Phalon!!!” Phineas interrupted. “The cave! I completely forgot!”
“What, Phineas? What’s wrong?” Phalon asked, alarmed at the tone in his voice.
“As I left the Roman camp this morning, the conversation I overheard….it revolved around the kidnapping of the Consul…only she wasn’t just the Consul. She was one of you. An Amazon – the one you call…”
“Evergreen!” Phalon jumped up abruptly, knocking her chair to the ground behind her. “Take me there, Phineas. I’m not sure I’ll remember the way. Take me there quickly.”
They rushed through the house and out into the street. “This way!” Phineas called a few steps in front of Phalon. She reached out and grabbed his elbow, halting his step.
“Phineas”, she said quietly, drawing him closer. She kissed him on the cheek. “Go home to your wife now. Send her my love and best regards.”
“What? Phalon, the cave…”, puzzled that she would stop like this. Phalon looked up at him, her eyes moist, and nodded in the direction of a woman, child, and man coming towards them on horseback. By the look in the woman’s eyes, even in the dimming light, it did not take a mystic to realize there would be no Evergreen found in the Shepard’s cave.
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
Edited by: phalon1 at: 3/19/04 11:16 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:32:26 GMT -6
Zena 1
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(3/19/04 9:19 pm)
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The Return
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“Take the horses to the stable and then come directly to your grandmother’s house."
Zena slid gracefully from Ergo’s saddle and hit the packed earth with both feet. She reached up to lift the trembling thug from his mount and he allowed her to pull him down. He was merely a handful of bones wrapped in rags; the loss of his brother was gnawing away at his body as well as his mind. “It will not be this way for me”, Zena swore to herself. She turned again to Apollo who watched from Ergo’s head. “Take them in NOW!” Her instructions to Apollo were curt and he understood that this was not a time for questions. In the twilight he led the animals to shelter and Zena helped Bardak down the alley that ran along the side of Kaisa’s house. She did not see that Phalon and an older man stood in the shadows nearby. Phalon took leave of her companion and followed the pair down the alley. Bardak stumbled and Zena grabbed him by the silk that tied his wrists to steady him. As she looked down at the muddy fabric entwined in her fingers it came to her where she had seen the pattern. The Jappa woman. It was her silk. She pondered this as she reached the back of the house and since her hands were occupied in supporting the thug, she kicked in the door. It slammed open and revealed the assembled family seated for dinner. Their faces all turned at once and there was silence as they stared at the Amazon and her prisoner.
Zena’s eyes immediately probed the sleeping area for Gabby and saw that the bed was empty. She frowned and noticed then that others were also absent. Kaisa sat nearest to the door and Zena turned to her without a greeting. “Where is my daughter?” Before Kaisa formed the words to reply, the curtain to the bathing area was swept back and Red appeared with Gabby wrapped in towels, fresh from the bath. Zena’s eyes narrowed. Bardak had been shivering and babbling at her side but became still as Red came into sight.
“Her! HER! It’s her! I’ll kill you.....I’ll kill you for Grebus!!” He threw himself, bound as he was, toward Bhen Rudha and Zena wrestled him to the floor. She held him with her knee in his back and her hands tightly twisting the silk bonds. In the light of the flickering evening fire she fought to keep him down as he thrashed in the grip of the Furies, knocking chairs over and upsetting the pot of stew cooling on the stone hearth. The others drew back, uncertain of their place in the struggle. Only Bhen Rudha approached to help but Zena looked up at her and through clenched teeth said, “Do you know this man??!!”
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
gabbyfan4ever
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(3/22/04 8:30 pm)
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Gabby looked at Red with open gratitude on her face. The woman not only lived with the physical pain that was meant for her, but she had helped relieve the mental pain the girl had been feeling since her injury. Bhen Rudha’s assurances that she would walk again and that she could never be left behind had quieted her fears just as her soft Gaelic words had quailed her tears. So many in the world let whatever pain or hardships from their past turn them into monsters, and the woman had lived one of the most painful lives Gabby had ever heard of. And yet Bhen Rudha still carried the same tenderness inside her that she saw when Zena looked at Evergreen or herself. The girl flashed a smile at Red as she helped her finish her bath.
After hearing the front door crash open Red and Gabby exchanged confused looks as they headed out of the bathing room. Pulling back the curtain revealed Zena holding onto a man who was bound and mumbling incoherently to himself. The immediate smile that filled Gabby’s face at the site of Zena was quickly melted away and clouded over with worry. One look at her mothers cold flat stare told her something was wrong but not what. The girls stomach dropped at the thought of a hundred different possibilities of what could have her mother so hurt and angry. She had no idea yet just how much they would all hurt when they found out about the sister that was lost to them. Zena’s icy gaze narrowed at the site of Bhen Rudha carrying Gabby in from the bathing room. Before she could think of what to say or ask, the stranger suddenly lunged at Red with a loud cry and murder in his eyes. The warrior had no opportunity for defense while she was carrying Gabby, and turned to take as much of the attack on herself as she could. However, before the man could cross half the room Zena had him on the ground with a knee in his back to keep him there. While everyone else in the room sat frozen Bhen Rudha gently set Gabby down and went to help Zena. She made it about the same distance the man had before Zena looked up and stopped her with her glare. “Do you know this man!??!”
phalon1
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(3/27/04 12:57 am)
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Across the Threshold
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Dim light escaped from around the edges of the oilcloth covering the windows of the small, roughly made house in the forest, and though it was not particularly inviting, it was a welcome sight to him. The light meant she was home and had not left after he failed to return to their meeting place the night before as they had planned.
He crossed the threshold of the doorway with a step lighter than he remembered having for a very long time. She was there, pacing back and forth, covering the span of the tiny room in just a handful of strides and wringing her hands as she walked. When he entered, she stopped and a momentary look of fear flashed across her face. As she quickly realized he was unharmed and alone, he saw the fear change to an expression of relief, but it did not erase the haggardness there. She looked as if she had gone through an ordeal as difficult as his the night before, but though he was still tired, much of that haggard look on his own face was gone – vanished after spending an afternoon filled with memories of his son. He wished she could have been there to share in that and instantly he was filled with tender emotion for her. He quickly crossed the room and gathered her up in his arms.
She mistook the gesture and his smile to mean that his task was complete and all had gone according to plan. “You’ve got the silver?” she asked.
“No”, he said, grinning. “No silver.”
She clasped her hands together excitedly. “Gold then. The Romans gave you gold?”
“No gold either. No silver, no gold…the Romans gave me nothing”, he replied.
“Then why, Old Man, are you smiling? I’ve been here, nearly worrying myself into my grave, and you have been out doing what? Where have you been all this time?”
“Most of it, Dear Wife, is a tale to be saved for a later time. But I will tell you, Phalon sends her love.”
“Phalon?” she said, incredulously, as if he’d just told her that he had an encounter with a Gorgon and lived to tell about it.
“Yes, Phalon. Remember her? Athan’s girl. Remember Athan.” The last part was not a question. “We’ve held on to our grief for far too long, Dear Wife. We’ve let it bury us, and we have smothered under its weight. It’s time we dig ourselves out, and see daylight again.”
Her face grew pale at the mention of her dead son’s name. “But…no. It’s not something we talk about…I can’t...I just can’…”
“Shhhh, Wife.” He gently kissed her. “Come, sit and let me tell you about our son, Athan. We will remember him together.”
* * * * *
Phalon’s emotions were mixed as she reached the door to her mother’s house. It had done her well to visit with Phineas and talk about Athan. To remember the feelings and the laughter they shared before that terrible time and the madness that followed was something she rarely allowed herself and it felt good. But then there was Zena. She had returned to town with a man that Phalon didn’t recognize instead of with Evergreen as Phalon had expected – or rather, hoped. And from the look on her face as she rode in, Phalon knew Evergreen would not be returning.
So it was with both happiness and dread that Phalon crossed the threshold of the doorway. Immediately stepping in, she tripped over the legs of the man who accompanied Zena into town, and fell, sprawling out next to him. She hit the floor with her face turned towards his, and saw in his eyes both the hatred and madness that once had been so familiar to her. She knew those emotions well…but there was something else…She had looked through those eyes before…somewhere…in a dream, perhaps. It made her uncomfortable and she quickly looked away, towards Zena.
Zena was staring with clenched teeth at Bhen Rudha and the air smelled like confrontation. Not knowing what else to do in her present position on the floor next to an angry madman, she said, “Zena, you’ve returned. And I see you’ve come bearing gifts.”
The man snarled, and Phalon asked, “Is it returnable?"
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:33:29 GMT -6
Zena 1
Zena Scrolls Host
Posts: 929
(3/27/04 11:02 am)
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Stewing
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Startled to hear Phalon addressing her from the vantage point of the floor, Zena momentarily broke her visual grip on Bhen Rudha and flashed a quick look downward. Bartak was spitting now in between his curses and Zena watched Phalon pull back.
“Zena, you’ve returned. And I see you’ve come bearing gifts. Is it returnable?”
“I...have...remember the rest of the saying..beware of Amazons bearing gifts...”
“Greeks!! It’s GREEKS, you Amazon bit.."
Zena squeezed down on Bartak and cut off his discourse. His ears were turning from red to blue when she finally released her hold. Phalon sat up, carefully avoiding contact with Bartak’s person or his ragged cloak and slid back into the spilled stew.
“Ugh..”
“Sorry Phalon.” Zena still controlled the man’s movements but they were feeble now as he slipped in and out of lucidity. She once again looked up at Bhen Rudha and it was evident that she was controlling herself as well as the thug. “I asked you, I believe, whether or not you know this man?”
Zena
"Agere Sequitur Esse"
gabbin
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(3/28/04 10:42 am)
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let me in!
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The headaches had started with a simple kick to the head and had returned on nights like this to remind Frieda of the accident and its lasting affect on her life. She sat back with her gold shawl and sipped her herb tea. Thinking about th......but, what was that? A sound of running footsteps, uneven footfalls, boots, a woman, running, carrying something heavy, a child...she could hear the whimpers, and then......a door opened, voices and silence. She got up and opened the door wider to the hear better through the cool Spring air. Nothing more.
Frieda went back to her chair and sat. Listening. Afraid to move, to know. She thought of other things, weaving, shearing and such. Just as she was getting ready to retire to bed and try to sleep, there was a knock at her door and the voice of Celeste.
"Frieda, clothes, I need some clothes from you, quick. A child was hurt and there is much blood. It was one of the wild women, and we need some clothes, hurry." She half-helped, half -dragged Frieda upstairs. The flustered and dazed Frieda thought it was all rather rough-her heart was fluttered and she couldn't speak well.
"Uh, y y yes, this way, right, up here, the the the back of this rack, what size......abouts?" Frieda stammered.
The two of them selected a variety of clothes and then Frieda donned a coat and Celeste strode off dragging a disheveled and slightly frightened Frieda Rose along with her.
Edited by: gabbin at: 3/28/04 10:44 am
1 Xwpfan
Sexie Xie
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(4/4/04 5:22 pm)
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Intolerable Waiting
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Whether it was seconds, minutes, hours or even days later Xendra didn't rightly kmow. It was as if time itself had come to a crawl leaving her weary and drained. As an Amazon Xendra was used to tough challenging days, but somehow this was different, this drained her emotions ,her spirit and her body.
Xendra had not really felt the fatique until the stranger had given her hope for Vania's condition, but once the words resonated within her, a tiredness she had never known before,overcame her, suddenly her bones, her body, her mind, just throbbed and ached with a dulling ache.
Xendra tried valiantly to stave off the tiredness by pacing back and forth, trying to will Vania awake faster but with every step her feet grew heavier and her stomach more twisted til finally she collasped in the chair next to Vania.
The kind stranger quickly covered Xendra over with a blanket and told her to rest that Frieda rose would soon be there with fresh clothing for both of them.
Xendra tried to protest, Vania's full recovery is all that she really wanted, nothing else mattered ,not even sleep.
The kind stranger hushed her and just smiled as she said,"Rest. Its all you can do for the moment.She'll need you when she wakes up."
EvergreenLM
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Posts: 386
(4/13/04 9:32 pm)
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Post Cards From Thrace
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I rode away that day in no great hurry to go any place in particular. Thrace was the imperative, but now alone, I make my own choices, be what they may.
It has been awhile since I have been alone, really alone. I present as a solitary rider, swaying with the ebb and flow of Whisperer’s cadence as she slowly joins me in our journey towards nowhere. We have long since eaten the apples. Some cheese, and now dry crusty bread remain, and it suddenly occurs to me that I shall search out nourishment for my body, and my spirit, not accompanied, nor shared with my sisters.
A hawk swirls on the updrafts of the final rays of the day and disappears into a stand of pines along a distant ridge, now, just dark prominences backlit by the setting sun. The moon is on the rise and I contemplate riding on through the night-but why so? To where am I in a hurry to be? So I stop.
A small creek runs quickly by where I toss out my pack on a level of ground covered by a short stand of grass covering the soft, spongy earth. Nearby are the remains of a previous sojourner’s campfire, now like my life with the Amazons, with Zena, cold with only the outline of a circle of rocks and ash left behind. I think it fitting to my plight and I decide against the attempt to rekindle the flame.
I tether Whisperer near a taller stand of green grass and know at least she will be able to answer the rumbles of a hungry stomach. I have a few dinars in the small leather pouch latched to the side of my breeches, but do not relish the thought of seeking out the contact of others even to purchase food.
The air is damp and cool, but it does not stop me from stripping and walking into the stream. I nearly slip on mossy rocks. Whisperer cranes her neck with an disinterested glance before returning to her evening meal. I find a place where two rocks have tumbled side by side forming a chair of sorts as the rushing water pours under and around them. I sit, spread my arms out on the smooth gray surfaces, close my eyes, and listen to the sounds of the night as Sister Moon bathes me with her gentle light.
An owl sounds in the pine tree to my right as two spotted doe silently approach, drink from the stream as I sit, not moving. I watched them and carefully , non-intrusively, scanned to see if the buck is near. If he was, I never saw him. I watched the deer as they nuzzled one another, drank again, and slowly disappeared into the understory of brush.
When the two night visitors had gone, I found that I been holding my breath and let it escape with a low sigh. I shivered and not from the cool water. I push upright, walk from the stream as I shake my wet hair side to side, flick my arms and legs knowing that will have to do for being dry for the moment.
I take the small colorful striped blanket Zena had attached to the back of my saddle skins and wrap it around me like warm, welcoming arms. Something stirs deep within me and I know there is another part of me, also in the dark of night, that lies in wait of answer to the same feeling.
I find an old log rolled near the creek bank and lower myself until my back is cradle in the hollow of its twisted shape. The residents of my stopping over place begin their night chorus, and as I lean back my head to look up at the crystal sky, I see a shooting star and wonder if she saw it too. I closed my eyes and drifted back into the dreamscape of my past.
"We're stuff of the soul Gabrielle."
Edited by: EvergreenLM at: 4/18/04 9:41 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:35:28 GMT -6
BhenRudha
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Posts: 107
(4/20/04 9:12 pm)
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To Give and Take I
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Once the suggestion had been made and accepted, it took only a few minutes to have steam rising from the tub in the bathing room. Gabby’s mood had continued to brighten as she was carried down the hall, helped out of her clothes and into the blessedly warm water. She sighed happily and glanced over at Bhen Rudha who was looking through the various bottles and jars that Kaisa kept on a couple shelves.
“What are you looking for?” the young Amazon asked.
“Be findin’ sommat to be helpin’ soften tha skin o’ yer legs. Ahh, be thinkin’ this be it,” the Red Woman answered, lifting a small, wide mouthed jar from the shelf. “If’n yer skin be soft, be more . . . ehh . . . supple,” she tiled her head, trying to decide if that was the right word. When Gabby nodded in understanding, she continued, “Supple, aye. Then yer burns be nae sae painful, an’ be healin’ faster.”
Interested in anything that’ll help her walk again, Gabby asked, “Did you want to put it on now?”
“Nae, be puttin’ it on after yer done. Be needin’ ta be cleanin’ those burns a’fore, else tha cream be doin’ naethin’.” Bhen Rudha moved to sit beside the tub, saying, “Be lettin’ ye sit fer a few an’ soak the good heat o’ tha water in, ta be drawin’ tha bad heat o’ tha burns out, then we be seein’ how they look, aye?”
“Okay, that sounds good I think,” she said thoughtfully. Tilting her head, she regarded the other woman for a moment, then asked, “Red, how did you learn all this?”
“Wha’, how ta be takin’ care o’ yer legs?” she asked, when Gabby nodded, she continued, “Oh, well then. I be taugh’ tha’ when ye be knowin’ hae ta be taken’ a person apar’, ye should be knowin’ hae ta be puttin’ them back tagether. An’ sae, when I be studyin’ tha way o’ tha sword, an’ tha battlefield, I be learnin’ some o’ tha healin’ arts tae. I be nae a healer, nae by a long shot, bu’ I cen be helpin’.”
“Oh. So which do you like to do better?”
“Fightin’ or healin’?” Bhen Rudha didn’t know how to answer that right away, so while she thought about it, she turned to grab up a cake of soap and a soft scrub brush. When she turned back, she asked, “Dae ye be rememberin’ tha happiest moment o’ yer life? Where ye be thinkin’ tha world be perfect, an’ ye knew there be naethin’ better?”
Slowly Gabby nodded, her thoughts falling back to those treasured memories of her family, old and new.
“Nae, be imaginin’ tha’ feelin’ when ye be holdin’ a sword an’ tha Goddess ye be worshippin’ be whisperin’ in ye heart. Ne’er dae I be feelin’ sae beautiful, sae full o’ life, sae . . . loved, as I be when I be fightin’ in tha battle madness.” She watched Gabby take in her words and hoped she would understand.
Finally, Gabby looked up, an expression on her face that Bhen Rudha couldn’t quite decipher, and asked, “Then you like killing people?”
“Killin’ people? Och . . . nae. Killin’ fer its own sake should ne’er be enjoyable. When ye find yerself doin’ tha likes o’ tha’, then ye cen be nae callin’ yerself human anamore.” Before she continued her answer, the Red Woman dipped the brush in the water, then rubbed it over the soap, working up a good lather. She reached for Gabby’s leg and lifted it gently so she could see it better. The girl shifted, getting more comfortable and remained silent, knowing that there was more the other wanted to say.
Bhen Rudha drew the brush softly across the burned skin and felt an answering twinge from the knot of pain she held. Reassured when it was not as bad as she had thought it would be, she continued, gently brushing away the dead skin to reveal a layer that was still angry pink, but much healed from the day before.
“Sometimes ye can be feelin’ tha’ ye be servin’ justice when ye be takin’ a life. If’n ye be fightin’ fer those tha’ cannae be fightin’ fer themselves. When ye be knowin’ tha’ ye be savin’ a person perhaps with yer actions, ye cen feel good, aye?” the Red Woman asked, her eyes on her work.
Gabby stretched her arms over her head as she thought about the question. “So if you fight only to protect, and kill only when you must, and you don’t enjoy killing . . . I guess that’s ok. I don’t have to be like that, do I?”
Finished with one leg, Bhen Rudha moved around the tub and started to lift up the other. When Gabby finished her question she looked up and smiled, “Nae leanbh, ye dinnae. Ye cen be doin’ onla wha’ ye own heart be tellin’ ye ta be doin’. An’ when ye cannae, dinnae be afeared or ashamed. I, or someone who be like me, be here ta be protectin’ ye.” She felt the girl relax slightly and looked back down at the leg she was washing.
“Thank you,” Gabby said softly.
The Red Woman heard the multiple layers in the simple words of gratitude and answered, “Ye be most welcome, Geabach.”
The comfortable silence stretched while Bhen Rudha finished cleaning the dead skin off the Amazon’s legs. Afterward, she handed the brush and the soap to the girl, saying, “Be given’ yerself a good scrubbin’. Ye be feelin’ better fer it, aye?”
“Alright, then you’ll wash my hair?” she asked, taking the brush and working up a new lather. She scrubbed down her arms, then across her chest, working methodically
“O’course, be wha’ I be promisin’ ye, aye?”
“Aye!” Gabby answered, giggling as she scrubbed the bottoms of her feet.
Quickly the girl finished washing and dunked herself to rinse and wet her hair. She handed the soap and brush back to the other woman then pulled her legs in so she sat crosslegged in the center of the tub. “Red, why did you want to become a priestess?” she asked, unable to keep from shivering a bit in the rapidly cooling water.
Picking up the bucket, Bhen Rudha pulled some of the water from the tub and threw it outside. “I dinnae be thinkin’ I e’er wanted anathin’ else,” she said, stopping in the door way a moment as she thought about Gabby’s question. “Be gettin’ ye some warm water, be back, aye?”
“Okay, then you’ll finish telling me?”
“Aye, I will then,” the Red Woman answered as she headed down the hall to the kitchen. A large kettle was over the hearthfire and it took but a moment to fill her bucket, and another one nearby, with hot clean water. She waved her thanks to those working in the kitchen and headed back to the bathing room.
Gabby had her arms folded and was shivering, gooseflesh rising on her skin. She gasp softly when the other woman emptied one bucket into the tub, and the first rush of heat flowed around her. She sighed happily again and relaxed.
Setting the second bucket aside for rinsing, Bhen Rudha picked up the soap and began to work up a lather. “Be dunkin’ yer head again, if’n ye please,” she asked. After the young Amazon complied, she reached for the soaking hair and started working the soap into it.
After a moment, Gabby said, “So?”
“Aye?”
“Why did you want to become a priestess?”
“Och, I be sorra.” She settled more comfortably next to the tub, her hands working to gently separate the tangled strands of hair and recalled what she had decided to answer. “Me máthair be priestess o’ tha Morrigu, sae beautiful, an’ wise, an’ sae mana other wonderful thin’s tha I be decidin’ I be wantin’ ta be like her.”
“Did your mother like to fight too?”
Scooping water in her hands, Bhen Rudha rinsed some of the soap from Gabby’s hair in order to see what she was doing better. The girl had her head back a bit, her eyes closed almost sleepily. “Nae, she be a seeress more than a warrior. She be able ta be lookin’ inta tha future, an’ knowin’ tha truth o’ a man’s heart, though she be skilled with a blade ta. If’n I be half tha woman she be . . . well, then I be thinkin’ I be doin’ a’righ’!”
“You must miss her very much. I hope you get to see her again someday, Red.” When Gabby felt the hands stop moving, she turned her head to see what was the matter.
Bhen Rudha met the girl’s concern with a sad smile, “I be missin’ her verra much, and be wishin’ she were nae already on tha other side o’ tha Wheel.” With gentle hands, she turned Gabby’s head back around and ran her fingers through the long hair, taking out the last few tangles as she did so.
“I’m sorry Red.”
“Dinnae be leanbh, ye could nae be knowin’. An’ I be seein’ her again. Mayhap at the end o’ me days, she be waitin’ fer me at tha gates ta tha Summerland.” Grief, sudden and sharp welled with her as she spoke, along with the shadow of a memory she could not get a grip on. Mechanically she reached for the bucket of warm water and poured a measure of it down Gabby’s back. The girl gasped softly, then sighed with contentment.
“I feel so much better now, Red, thank you so much,” she said, turning again to offer a smile.
Forcing her troubled thoughts to the back of her mind, Bhen Rudha answered, “I be glad o’ tha’. Nae, be closin’ yer eyes, sae I cen be rinsin’ yer hair.” She waited till the girl complied before pouring a portion of the clean, warm water over her head.
After that, it took little time to have Gabby bundled in clean towels, sitting on a bench. The Red Woman grabbed up the jar of cream she had selected from Kaisa’s shelf, scooped up a dollop on her fingers, and began to work it into the red skin of the young Amazon’s thighs and calves. As she worked, she untied the knot of pain over her heart, and threaded a small portion of it down her arms and out through her hands. She did this until she heard a gasp and saw toes wiggling.
Bhen Rudha smiled up at the girl, “Dae ye thin’ ye cen be handlin’ tha’?”
Gabby nodded several times, and ran gentle fingers over her legs. She shared a shiver with the other woman and returned the smile. “It’s only a little uncomfortable, but the stuff you put on me is helping. Does this mean I can stand now?”
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:39:01 GMT -6
BhenRudha
Registered Member
Posts: 107
(4/20/04 9:12 pm)
To Give and Take I (Continued)
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“Let us be findin’ ou’ then, aye?” she answered and stood, holding out a hand.
Lower lip between her teeth, the girl grasped the proffered hand, and swung her legs off the bench, then pulled herself up. Bhen Rudha steadied herself, letting Gabby use her as much as she needed, and was rewarded with a radiant smile. Her first steps were wobbly, and she clung to the hands that kept her upright, but the girl’s eyes were shining as she looked up and said, “I can walk!”
“Sae ye cen. Be easy on yerself, an’ be allowin’ yer legs ta be remembering their purpose a’fore ye be runnin’ abou’, aye?”
“Okay Red, I will. Can we go out to the kitchen? I’m hungry and want to sit by the fire.”
“Hae abou’ we be gettin’ ye inta some clothes first, aye?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess that would be good to,” Gabby said, then giggled, too elated to care where she went, as long as she walked.
Progress was slow, but steady, and before they reached the curtain, the girl stumbled and would have fallen had the Red Woman not scooped her up with a quick, easy movement. “Ye be workin’ up ta it, aye? I be sayin’ ta be gentle, an’ I be meanin’ it,” she said with a smile, to take the sting out of the words.
Sighing with only mild disappointment, the girl settled, and nodded, “Okay, I’ll practice walking only a little bit at a time till I get stronger.”
“Ye be well verra soon, I cen be tellin’.”
“Aye,” Gabby said with a quiet laugh, resting her head against Bhen Rudha’s shoulder, content as she had not been in days. As they continued down the hallway they heard the back door slam open, and then Zena’s voice say, “Where is my daughter?”
phalon1
Registered Member
Posts: 2220
(4/25/04 12:28 am)
Can't Place the Face, but the Blade's Familiar
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“Ugh”, Phalon exclaimed, sliding back away from the madman, and directly into a glob of the spilled stew. Zena offered a quick apology, before immediately returning her glare back to Bhen Rudha, and demanding whether Red knew the man or not. Phalon wondered what the man had to do with Red, and why Zena had brought him here.
His struggled movements against Zena’s hold waned, but he continued constant unintelligible mumblings intermingled with loud strings of epithets directed towards the Amazons. Phalon watched him, and again felt a strange recognition. She should know him, she thought, though she could not recall where she’d meet him, or what about him presented such a strong familiarity to her.
Suddenly, the man became quite coherent in his continual tirade. “You took from me all I had. My brother.” Drool formed on his lips and ran down his chin as he hissed, “I’d kill you all, ramming the blade of his sword down your throats! The perfect vengeance, don’t you think? But I can’t even do that for him. You stole his sword, just as you stole from him his life.” He laid his head on the floor and wept, broken.
Phalon shifted her position against the wall as the blade in its sheath on her back suddenly became uncomfortable.
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
Edited by: phalon1 at: 5/2/04 12:32 am
BhenRudha
Registered Member
Posts: 109
(5/1/04 2:57 am)
To Give and Take II
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Pushing the divider curtain aside, the pair saw Zena, cold-eyed and angry, standing in the doorway, a dirty, gibbering man held bound before her. When the man caught sight of Bhen Rudha, he grew still, then started howling, “Her! HER! It’s her! I’ll kill you . . . I’ll kill you for Grebus!!” and threw himself forward.
Spinning, her first thought was to shield Gabby from whatever harm the crazed man intended. The attack never came, as Zena quickly subdued the man, a knee in his back, her hands tightly twisting the silk bonds, but not before he had overturned the pot of stew cooling on the hearth.
Once certain that he could not escape, the Red Woman set the girl gently on her feet in the doorway and stepped forward to help when Zena looked up and said through gritted teeth, “Do you know this man?”
Before she could answer, Phalon walked in and tripped unknowing over the sprawled legs of the madman, falling full length on the floor. Bhen Rudha watched her gaze into the man’s eyes, swallow, then look up at Zena, saying lightly, “Zena, you’ve returned. And I see you’ve come bearing gifts.” The man growled and she continued, “Is it returnable?”
“I . . . have . . . remember the rest of the saying . . . beware of Amazons bearing gifts.”
“Greeks! It’s GREEKS, you Amazon bit.”
Zena squeezed down on the man and cut off his discourse. His ears were turning from red to blue when she finally released her hold. Phalon sat up, carefully avoiding contact with the either the skin or clothes of the man, and slid into the stew. “Ugh,” she muttered.
“Sorry Phalon.” Zena still controlled the man’s movements but they were feeble now as he slipped in and out of lucidity. She once again looked up at Bhen Rudha and it was evident that she was controlling herself as well as the thug. “I asked you, I believe, whether or not you know this man?”
She watched the man for a long moment before he suddenly became quite coherent in his continual tirade. “You took from me all I had. My brother.” Drool formed on his lips and ran down his chin as he hissed, “I’d kill you all, ramming the blade of his sword down your throats! The perfect vengeance, don’t you think? But I can’t even do that for him. You stole his sword, just as you stole from him his life.” He laid his head on the floor and wept, broken.
As he ended, the Red Woman crouched, hands clasped before her and studied his face intently, there was a tint of red around his eyes that she could see and she felt that somehow, his madness was inflicted instead of natural. His face was vaguely familiar, but the name he had screamed had meant nothing to her, so she finally asked, “An’ why would I be knowin’ a raggedy bit o’ man such as this?”
He continued to weep, going limp under Zena’s hands and she answered, “Because you murdered his brother.”
Clarity came to her, he was one of the brigands that she had let live.
Bhen Rudha sighed inwardly as Zena’s dark hazel eyes bored into her, demanding an answer. She flicked a glance to Gabby, saw clear faith in the girl’s eyes and felt the regard of those others in the room also waiting for her next words. Part of her wanted to demand to know why they questioned her. She was a Bandroi an Cogadh, and should not be questioned should she felt it necessary to take a life.
But this was not Eriu, and these were not her people.
Feeling more alien now that ever before, but determined to remain true to herself and her Goddess, Bhen Rudha said slowly and with care, “I dinnae murder anaone.”
“What?” Zena ground through her teeth, involuntarily jerking the man’s bound hands, making him yelp with pain. “How in the name of Hades can you say that? His brother is dead, and you killed him!”
She met Phalon’s gaze for a moment, heartened when she saw no surprise, and no accusation in her deep green eyes. “Oh, I be killin’ tha brigand, sure enough. I jest be nae murderin’ him.”
“What is the difference, Red? What could possibly be the difference?” the seeress asked softly.
“There is no difference, she’s just trying to justify what she did,” Zena said angrily.
Holding up a hand, Bhen Rudha shook her head, “Nae. Tis a great difference Phalon. When ye murder, be fer personal gain. Be selfish an’ wrong..” She ignored Zena’s snort and continued, “Be times when ye needs ta be takin’ a life ta be savin’ lives. An’ tha’ be wha’ I be doin’.”
“We got away! They couldn’t hurt us anymore. You killed those men because you wanted to. Don’t try to tell us otherwise,” the Amazon leader snarled.
“Was nae abou’ us, Zena. We be ne’er in ana real danger. Be tha innocent lives I be savin’.” She grabbed a handful of the unkempt hair and forced the brigand’s head up, asking, “Hae mana people ye be murderin’ in yer day, eh?”
The man blubbered and spit an incoherent answer, shutting his eyes tightly shut in an effort to escape the face that haunted his every moment. The Red Woman snapped the crimson haze over her vision and then forced his head back further till his neck protested and his eyes popped open. She caught his gaze and asked again, “Hae mana people ye be murderin’?” When his mouth moved but no sound emerged, she tightened her grip, snarling, “How mana?!”
“Six! Oh gods save me, six! And I’d kill you if I could!” he wailed, banging his head against the floor, sobbing loudly once Bhen Rudha let him go.
She lifted her monochrome gaze to Zena and asked, “Ye be allowin’ him ta be goin’ free ta be addin’ ta tha’ number? Ye be peaceful with tha’ decision?”
Zena refused to flinch from the disturbing glare and demanded, “Why did you let him go free in the first place then?”
“He dinnae be leerin’ at ana o’ us. Dinnae be thinkin’ he be needin’ tha justice I be handin’ out.” She looked down, her expression hardening, “I be makin’ a mistake fer certain.”
“By what right . . .”
Before the Amazon leader could finish her question, the Red Woman stood, tall and fierce. “By tha mark set inta me own back by tha Goddess Herself, an’ by tha weapon I be wieldin’. I be ha’en’ a responsibility ta be protectin’ those who cannae. Anaone who be claimin’ ta be warrior be ha’en’ tha duty, an’ if’n ye cannae, then at least dinnae be condemnin’ those who cen.”
In the silence that followed her words, Bhen Rudha stepped over the man toward the door. Stopping in the threshold, she turned, forcing herself not to see the faces staring at her, and said, “I cen only be given’ him peace if’n he be fightin’ me. I be waitin’ outside.” With that, she turned and left.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:40:12 GMT -6
phalon1
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(5/5/04 10:32 pm)
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Judgements
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She fidgeted uncomfortably, leaning her back against the wall, feeling the sword on her back seem to bite into her as the man Zena restrained spoke of his dead brother. It had to be this man’s brother’s weapon that he claimed the Amazon’s stole. No one else had taken a weapon but her. Phalon shuddered, remembering the frightening visions that came with the sword. The faces of those that it had murdered at the hands of its wielder…and the other images – the ones of the young girls screaming on a cliff above the sea. What became of them, she wondered, at the hands of this man in her mother’s house and his dead brother? That was why he looked familiar, she realized. He was in the visions too, fighting, and killing alongside the sword’s wielder, his brother.
The visions had not returned since she had come home, simply because, she thought, she had kept the sword tucked away among her belongings at her mother’s request. It was only this morning she had taken it back out, strapping it on her back when she left for Vassaly’s Inn, not knowing what she would encounter during the course of the day.
So now she sat with a dead man’s sword. And why was the man dead? When she had taken it, he was alive, but not so well, getting sick in the bushes from the meadow rue soup she brewed. Surely, it wasn’t the soup that killed him. It may have caused severe gastrointestinal distress yes, but deadly? No. Who then? Who killed him?
Her mind went back and replayed a conversation she had with Bhen Rudha, later that night…
Sleepily she asked, “What ye be needin’ of me?”
Phalon looked hard into the other’s eyes for a moment before wetting her thumb on her tongue and wiping it across Bhen Rudha’s cheek, removing a tiny speck of dried blood. “Oh nothing. You missed a spot.”
Red cringed, partially from the tenderness of what would surely become a rather large bruise on her cheek by morning, and partially from what information she knew Phalon gathered from the brief contact.
“We need not expect those bandits to follow us, do we?” Phalon asked, not needing or expecting an answer.
“Ye be sleepin’ well this night, Phalon”, mummured Red, as she rolled away and fell asleep.
Phalon looked at Red now, and as she began to speak, Phalon listened, determined not to judge…
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
phalon1
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(5/12/04 10:51 am)
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Balances
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Phalon knew Red had killed the men that night. She had felt it when she wiped the blood from the other woman’s cheek, and she never mentioned it after that brief exchange by the campfire. She also knew Zena had suspected it, and the confrontation between her and Red had been brewing for some time.
Bhen Rudha’s ways were different – not wrong, Phalon thought, just different. Which is not to say she understood it – her beliefs, her Goddess, her very being were all as foreign sounding to Phalon as the words she spoke. She didn’t understand why Red had killed the men – couldn’t imagine herself killing in anything other than self-defense or when in battle…other than when she had killed Athan’s murderers out of pure hatred and vengeance – and that was something she struggled with ever since. She was not a warrior, it was not a part of her, but could not judge those that were.
To Zena though, the leader of the Amazons, the Amazon code was everything. It was as much a part of her as was her sister, Evergreen, or her adopted daughter, Gabby. She lived by the code, governed by the code, and expected those traveling with them to abide by it also. Phalon had never had a problem with this, and when she was with the Amazon’s she followed their laws. But just has the Amazon laws were much of who Zena was, Bhen Rudha’s own code was who she was – and it seemed the two codes clashed.
“I dinnae murder anaone”, Bhen Rudha said, answering Zena’s demand as to why Red murdered the man’s brother. She chose her words carefully, and Phalon could see that she believed she was justified in killing, and genuinely wanted Zena to understand her actions.
Zena was not ready to let it go, and understandablely so. “What?” she said through clenched teeth. “How in the name of Hades can you say that? His brother is dead, and you killed him!”
Red looked at Phalon for a moment, and continued. “Oh, I be killin’ tha brigand, sure enough. I jest be nae murderin’ him.”
“What is the difference, Red? What could possibly be the difference?” Phalon asked. She really wanted to know. Since she realized whom the man was that Zena held, the visions from the sword had flashed again through her head, and the struggle she’d had within herself about the differences between herself taking lives, and the sword’s owner killing returned, the faces haunting her again. Her eyes implored Red for an answer.
“There is no difference, she’s just trying to justify what she did,” Zena said angrily.
Bhen Rudha shook her head, “Nae. Tis a great difference Phalon. When ye murder, be fer personal gain. Be selfish an’ wrong..” She ignored Zena’s snort and continued, “Be times when ye needs ta be takin’ a life ta be savin’ lives. An’ tha’ be wha’ I be doin’.”
It was the same logic Phalon had used on herself. When she killed in battle, it was not out of greed – it was a necessity, not something she enjoyed doing, but something that had to be done. She had even told herself that very same thing later, after the madness, that killing the Romans who killed Athan was only saving the other lives those Romans surely would have taken later. But as Zena now accused Red of doing, Phalon was only trying to justify what she had done. She didn’t buy it in herself – she knew she had done it out of hatred - and therefore had sent a lifetime trying to redeem herself, learning the ways of healing, and then practicing it on those she encountered who were in need.
With Red though, Phalon knew it was different. Red didn’t need the justification - she knew what she was doing was right by the powers the Goddess had granted her. She also knew Red held the power to heal – a power far greater than any Phalon possessed with her potions and herbs. It was something inside her, some intangible part of her that could not be bottled or dried, as the plants were that Phalon used in her healing. How could Red balance the two, Phalon wondered – The Warrior and the Healer. She wished she knew, because if she did, Phalon thought she might get a glimpse into understanding how she could find a bit of peace within herself.
“By what right…”, Zena started.
The Warrior concluded, answering Zena’s demand before she’d finished asking it, “By tha mark set inta me own back by tha Goddess Herself, an’ by tha weapon I be wieldin’. I be ha’en’ a responsibility ta be protectin’ those who cannae. Anaone who be claimin’ ta be warrior be ha’en’ tha duty, an’ if’n ye cannae, then at least dinnae be condemnin’ those who cen.” And with that, she walked out the door.
Phalon and Zena glanced at one another, and Phalon raised a brow in the direction of the door in which Red had just left. Looking back at Zena, and then towards the man Zena had pinned to the floor, she said, “You’ve got this under control then?” Whether she meant the bound man, or her own emotions, Phalon herself was not quite certain. Maybe a bit of both.
Zena responded quietly, perhaps wondering the same, “Yeah sure, Phalon.” Phalon could see she was turning what Red had said over in her mind, and struggling to come to terms with it.
Phalon quietly stepped through the door into the cool night air, a shiver running through her. She softly called into the dark, “Bhen Rudha?”
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
Edited by: phalon1 at: 5/12/04 10:55 am
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:43:01 GMT -6
the chaotrix
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(5/25/04 1:10 am)
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Chasing A Fox
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She was lost in a forest deeper than she had ever dreamed. Its dark was oppressive and ached like a bruise. The wood had some how trapped her and the further she walked, the thicker the air wrapped around her lungs. The kimono she wore when she died was nothing but tattered rags that continued to snag on branches and roots. A quiet sort of dispassion leaked into her as she came to realize she was a ghost anchored in the shadows of the world she had tried to forget. This had not been her plan.
A swift dash of movement flitted just before her feet. Looking around wildly at first she could not see it, but then she caught sight of a fox. The fox darted away from her, then cut first left and then right, mere flashes of dark red against the green-black shadows. It took only a moment for her to realize that the fox was not running directly away from her, but moved in a complex pattern of circles around her.
Before she even knew she had a will to do so, she was chasing the fox, running through brush and around. As she decided that it was imperative she catch this fox, her movement became freer. She knew that once she did perhaps she could move from this hopeless shadow world to greater worlds beyond. The feeling of listless existence would leave her and all would be right again. --If she could just catch that silly little animal that seemed to taunt her again with its vulpine grin.
Her intense need to catch the animal pushed her ability to move to speeds beyond anything she recalled during the time she spent alive. Even so, the fox seemed to toy with her. More than once she saw her hand move to close on the bushy tail before the animal would flip around in some unpredicted direction.
…Free…
Surely it was laughing at her, with that flicking tail, those swiveling ears, but there was more than that. She did not hear words spoken but was somehow aware of them. The source was the same as the glimpses of white teeth pulled up in a feral smile.
…Enough sleepwalking…
What was this then? More taunting. Enough. She would catch this fox and then see who laughed.
The renewed vigor of her intentions to catch the fox released an even greater facility for speed and strength. Within a heartbeat she was close enough to—
--be thrown off her mark by a mass of black that rushed past. She staggered, but somehow did not fall. Her focus on catching the fox was such that she readily dismissed whatever it was and continued the pursuit. Again the great blur of black impeded her but this time it was enough of a distraction that she twisted aside and skid to a halt in order not to crash into it or the surrounding trees. Looking around gave her no clue, and feeling the fox run directly onward, (with no more of its playful flight), she began again. She took only one step before the Black was in front her again. It did not move past or around her but stood resolutely in front of her and growled.
Slits of amber widened to glowing shards in front of her. Its shape pulled itself from the shadows. It was a wolf.
Not knowing what to make of it she simply bowed to the oukami and stepped aside, intending to finish her pursuit of the fox. The wolf moved with her, remaining in front and blocking her path. It growled louder.
What would a wolf want with a ghost? She looked up to see the fox’s tail disappear behind distant brush. If she did not move now she felt she would lose the fox forever.
…Live…
Even at a growing distance she ‘felt’ the fox’s words taunting her. Glancing at the wolf she narrowed her eyes. She was a ghost, this wolf could not keep her here. Willing the exceptional swiftness to suffuse her being again she moved. Dodging the wolf seemed easy enough but then, with a jolt, she realized she was not moving. The wolf was not before her.. but her expedient will no longer carried her forward. With a belated realization she saw the sleeve of her kimono held securely in the wolf’s jaw. Still it growled at her.
“Oukami-sama, please let me go. I must catch that kitsune to ask it why it taunts me so. That fox means something to me. I must-” She spoke imploringly at the wolf as she tried firmly tugging her sleeve from its grasp. “Please let me go. What could you want with me? I am nothing but a ghost.”
Her sleeve was released suddenly just as she had given a strong heave. With a silent bump she was on the ground and the wolf was on top of her. Its great paws pinned her shoulders to the forest floor. Amber crescents narrowed to slivers as the wolf growled again. This time the growl had a voice behind it.
Sumire!
The forest shadows wavered and a sickening pulling feeling turned her stomach. A terror injected itself into her. Feeling the sting of icy tears she closed her eyes and began to beg “Oukami-sama, please-“ A snarl cut her off.
Wake up! Open your eyes!
For a moment she felt she could have refused and kept herself sealed behind the dream of being a ghost. But a sharp sound told her she couldn’t. That sick feeling became a terrible rending as she did as she was told. The yellow eyes she looked into where that of the wolf in the ghost dream.. but also that of.. a woman. Painfully bright light flooded her vision erasing the after image of the dream forest. Once the dream was gone, the new unwelcome brightness brought with it a grogginess that suffused her limbs and her thinking.
“Sumire! Snap out of it! Look at me!” the woman gave her shoulders a vigorous shake. Again she did as she was told and realized that she knew this woman. Things were gradually coming into focus and with it Sumire was remembering where she was and why. This was the clearing where she had tried to end her life. The woman that held her by the shoulders, keeping her sitting up on her knees. This woman--
“Oukami- Blakwoof-san?” Blackwolf sighed and gave a little nod; she seemed slightly relieved. The memory of when she last saw Blackwolf struck Sumire. “Oukami-san! You- You are- ?!” Sumire lifted her hands to touch Blackwolf’s outstretched arms. She needed to confirm that somehow Oukami wasn’t a ghost or a dream or a shadow either. Once certain that Blackwolf was indeed solid and real as the bright world around her she sighed, “You are…here.”
Blackwolf’s only reply was a wry smile and a nod. She left it at that. It seemed like ages had passed since she had last spoken to Sumire. And in some ways there were things that had transpired between that last time and now that it could very well have been worth a year’s journey.
It puzzled Sumire that Blackwolf should not only be out of her coma but here.. and now. Ordinarily it would have been a different reaction; one of pure delight at having a friend who was gravely ill recovered and looking well. But Blackwolf was here, witnessing her in such a state. In her quiet dismay, Sumire became aware of the sting on the side of her face. She lifted a hand to her cheek. It felt warm.
“I’m sorry about that… but you had me worried. You were awake.. but.. far off and unseeing…I had to go get you. And even then you didn’t want to come,” explained Blackwolf.
Sumire nodded, understanding. “Thank you, Blakwoof-san.” She spoke the words automatically, although she did not feel gratitude. As her present situation came to weigh on her more with each lucid moment, she resented that Blackwolf should bring her back to this.
“I am sorry to have worried you.” In this she was sincere. She was ashamed that Oukami should find her in such a state: at a time in which she had intended to end failure upon failure, only to fail in that last act as well. She couldn’t even catch a fox in a dream. She wished that no one would have found her so that she could just drown in her own dark dreams. And if someone must find her, at the very least it could have been a stranger.
Blackwolf gave her one last once-over before she nodded and released the firm grip. “No need to be sorry. I’m glad I found you.” There was more that Blackwolf felt she could have said but she left it at that for now. She needed to get Sumire back in the company of the other women. That seemed like it would help the most.
“Come. Lets get back to Kaisa’s,” suggested Blackwolf as she stood and lent a hand down to Sumire.
“Back to-?“ Sumire would have questioned returning anywhere but Blackwolf’s tone and manner let her know there would be no arguing. “Ah.. yes.” She stood with Blackwolfs help and looked down at herself. She saw how she was dressed and took a sharp breath. Of course she was still wearing her kimono in the manner of the dead. Regardless if the ritual had been completed or not she could not wear this kimono, now or ever again. Immediately she began to take it off.
Blackwolf saw that Sumire intended to disrobe and so glanced around to look for the change of clothes she assumed must be nearby, but she saw nothing set aside.
Half hidden in the bushes at the edge of the clearing she saw the rolled bundle that Sumire had always carried with her. In an effort to help, Blackwolf retrieved it and brought it over. When Sumire saw the roll she froze and made a small noise at the back of her throat.
“What’s the matter? You need your clothes right?” said Blackwolf without looking up. She couldn’t be sure of Sumire’s state of mind; so the sooner she got her back to Kaisa’s the better. She knelt, untied it and rolled it out between them before Sumire could stop her.
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Post by Joxcenia on Jul 5, 2004 1:44:30 GMT -6
the chaotrix
Registered Member
Posts: 123
(5/25/04 1:10 am)
Chasing A Fox (Continued)
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There were some dark clothes that had wrapped those things that had been tightly held at the center of the roll: armor and weapons. There was a drawn out moment of stillness while Blackwolf took in the sight: black strips of burnished leather reinforced by thin wood slats forming arm guards that would cover from elbow to knuckle, armor similarly fashioned that looked like was shin-guards, half-gloves that had metal claws that extended from them, many small knives perfectly shaped for throwing, longer thin knives painted black save for the sliver of metal on the cutting edge, various small pouches and vials. Blackwolf slowly drug her eyes from the weaponry to look at Sumire. She knelt, kimono no longer tightly wrapped by the obi, but draped on her like a robe. Her eyes were locked on the hardware between them, and had an expression of sorrow and anger. Tears slid down her face as she hissed.
“If I am to live, then all other paths are closed to me. This is what I am now.”
Not willing or unable to look at Blackwolf, Sumire finished disrobing and began to put on the shadowy clothes that were in the roll. The clothing was far removed from the elegant kimono or even the loose fitting hakama pants she had borrowed from Lord Daisuke. Part of her dressing ritual included wrapping forearms and lower legs with black cloth. She then braided her hair in a single braid that fell down the middle of her back.
Blackwolf watched in a wary silence. There was a profound difference in the way Sumire moved now. Even when she was injured, her movements usually exhibited a studied refinement, but now there was a cutting precision, it was severe, sharp and restrained. Blackwolf could see that Sumire donned her new outfit in a seething anger and resentment.
Once she was done dressing, Sumire went about gathering the rest of her scattered items and the swords as well. Sliding only a few of the knives into concealed folds of her tunic, and tucking the fans into the sash at her waist, the rest of it she wrapped back into the roll, with the swords at the center. She stood as she slung the makeshift pack onto her back.
Only then did she lift her eyes to Blackwolf and after a sigh, gave a succinct nod, “I am ready, Oukami-san.”
Blackwolf looked at the woman and shook her head in wonder. Was this the same person she had found at the ruins of the caravan? A black swash of cloth wrapped around Sumire’s shoulders like some sort of scarf. The tunic of deep shadow grey was short in sleeve and hemline. The pants were dark silk and wrapped from the calf down in black. It was almost like looking into a severely distorted mirror.
With a smirk and a sweeping gesture for Sumire to precede her Blackwolf offered her the lead. “By all means, after you.”
1 Xwpfan
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(5/31/04 11:53 am)
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no rest for the weary
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Xendra wearily smiled at the stranger as she gently refused the blanket . Xendra gently pushed back the blanket and yawned deeply as she struggled to return to her feet .
"Once standing she faced the woman and said,"Honestly, no matter how tired I am I will not be able to rest until I know Vania is well.
The woman nodded in agreement and in respect.
Xendra stretched and asked " Is there someway in whih I can help, after all being an Amazon I am used to having to forage for food and other mecidinal items perhaps I could gather some roots or herbs from your garden for you.
"No dear, I have it under control besides I think it best that you be here,beside her just in case she does awaken."
The stranger was about to say more when there seemed to be a knocking at the doro nearly a commotion of sorts.
Upon hearing the loud din of noise, Xendra quickkly unsheathed her sword and went into attack mode.Within moments Xendra could see two figures being quietly ushered in,after a few moments she could tell it was the blind semtress and her friend bearing old rags for bandages and new outfits for vania and Xendra to turn into.
phalon1
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(6/9/04 7:15 pm)
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Show's Over
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Kaisa stood and clasped her hands together, breaking the silence that followed Bhen Rudha’s departure out the door. She took charge of her house once again, surveying the situation in the room with her hands on her hips. Zena still had the man, now limp and spent from struggling, pinned to the ground. Phalon had followed Bhen Rudha outside. Stew was strewn across her floor. And more than a dozen little eyes and little ears were busy taking it all in.
“Well, it’s certainly been an interesting evening.” Glancing at the mess on the floor, she declared, “Phalon always said if she wasn’t careful my cooking would go straight to her thighs…I never took to mean she’d someday be wearing it there.” To her oldest granddaughter she said, “Cassandra, go fix Zena and that man a plate of something to eat, please. They both look starved. He looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal in days, and prisoner or not, no one will go hungry in my house.”
“Gelasuis”, she said turning to her son, “help Zena get the man to the table and keep watch over him while he eats. Then we’ll decide what’s to be done with him until morning.”
“Thaddeus,” The oldest boy squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, thinking he was going to be told to help his father guard the prisoner. He was nearly fifteen – in that awkward stage between boyhood and manhood, and, in his eyes, helping his father with the prisoner would be one step closer to reaching manhood. He was visibly deflated, and the other children snickered when his grandmother said, “get some buckets of water, and start cleaning the stew from the floor. Cassandra will help you when she’s done.”
“And you…,” she said, smiling at the giggling younger ones, “you all need to get cleaned up and ready for bed.”
A chorus of groans and protests rose from the young audience. “But Grandma, we always miss the good stuff.” From another, “Aw, I want to see what happens when Red comes back in”, and “I bet there’s a fight.”
Damaris struggled to heave herself out of her chair, and Gelasuis pulled his pregnant wife to a standing position. “Children”, she said, “your Grandma is right. It is time for bed.”
Apollo piped up, “Mom, I can help Daddy with the prisoner. I helped catch him. Didn’t I, Zee? An’ I guarded him all by myself when Zena was in the cave with that other lady. Didn’t I, Zee? I did. I’m a big help. I am. Right, Zee…Zee? Zee-eee.”
It was apparent that Zena was caught up in her own thoughts, but looked up when she heard Apollo’s repeated mention of his name for her. She smiled weakly and said, “Yes, Apollo. You were a big help and I couldn’t have done it without you.” The boy beamed proudly. “But listen to your Grandmother and your mother. You need enough sleep so you’ll be able to be a big help to me tomorrow also.”
The boy’s brief frown at being told to go to bed was erased and his little face brightened with the prospect of “helping” his new friend again in the morning.
The children dutifully filed out of the room, Kaisa and their mother following. Damaris said in a worried tone to Kaisa on their way out, “Where’s Vania? She’s usually home by now.”
Kaisa lowered her voice and put her hand in front of her mouth so the little ones couldn’t hear. “It’s really not that late”, she whispered. “I wouldn’t worry too much. She left earlier with Xendra. I’m sure they’ll return soon.”
So long as youth is green and testy old age is far off. Horace
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Post by BhenRudha on Jul 6, 2004 4:38:50 GMT -6
Phalon quietly stepped through the door into the cool night air, a shiver running through her. She softly called into the dark, Bhen Rudha?”
Standing in the courtyard, her back to the door, the Red Woman looked up at the darkening sky. At the sound of her name, she did not turn around, but said quietly, "Aye Phalon, I be here."
There was so much Phalon wanted to ask . . . her ways were so different than her own. She wanted to blurt out questions about the faraway lands from which she came, her Goddess, the power to channel forces seemingly other than human, and the Ravens and what had become of them. The thoughts swirled in her mind like a whirlwind of leaves on a brisk autumn day. She was not quite sure where to start, so instead she asked, “Chilly tonight, isn’t?"
Lacing her hands together behind her back, Bhen Rudha lifted her gaze to the sprinkling of stars that were just coming into view. “Dinnae be sae different from me homeland, though it dinnae be smellin sae’ green here.” She turned her head then, glancing at the seeress from the corner of an eye that glowed faintly crimson. “Ye be arigh’, Phalon? she asked finally.
The seeress was slow to answer and Bhen Rudha waited patiently as her thoughts churned in her head before speaking. “Aye,” she said. She looked surprised at herself for using the foreign word and added, “Yeah, I’m alright, Red.” Phalon paused another moment, her face thoughtful and determined at the same time, as if she had grabbed at one of those swirling thoughts, held on tight, and decided she would go wherever it took her. “Tell me about your homeland, Red. Tell me about the place that smells so green.”
A faraway expression crossed Bhen Rudha’s face as she answered, “Och, me home be an island ta tha West. Be verra green, tha grass, tha brush, tha trees . . . all be sae green ta be maken’ ye weep fer tha beauty o’ it.” She sighed and closed her eyes a moment before continuing, “Me Athair be chieftain, and our lands be in the middle o’ Eriu. Be a lake nae sae far, an’ when it be summer an’ nae cold, we be swimmin’.” A smile flitted on her lips as she remembered those days.
Running a hand through her hair, she opened her lambent crimson eyes and turned to face the seeress. “Tha bowl o’ tha sky be closer ta tha ground there, ye dinnae feel sae small as ye be here. E’en on a blue sky day, an’ there be nae clouds, ye feel ye cen be touchin’ tha sun.” Her focus turned further inward and the glow faded from her eyes as more memories played out in her mind.
Phalon could see it as Red spoke. Not imagine it – but see it, as if she’d been there before. She was on a hillside. The long grass - each blade singular, perfect on its own, dancing in time with the breeze, but all the blades in unison swaying in the wind was a performance that could captivate any audience, and yes, it “be maken’ ye weep fer tha beauty o’ it”.
The Widow had brought the seeress to such a place, of course, in a dream. The Widow. The Witch. The Warrior. Bhen Rudha’s mysterious ravens. They were dark and ominous and so very different then the images the other recalled now. Phalon wondered at what point in Bhen Rudha’s life did things change from what Red obviously, from the smile on her face and in her eyes, remembered as an idyllic, happy childhood. She had never spoke of her past with Phalon, never mentioned her family, and Phalon wondered about them now. “Your Athair . . . your father? He was a chieftain? And your mother? What was she like?”
Blue sky and clear waters fell away, the happy memory replaced by a flash of night and fire, cold steel and the song of arrows. Bhen Rudha’s eyes widened and she tightened her jaw.
“Red?” the seeress watched the other’s face and reached a tentative hand.
Before the connection could be made, the Red Woman shook her head and took a deep breath to speak, “Aye, me Máthair. She be Bandroi an Cogadh, an’ most o’ tha reason why I be wearin’ tha ravens on me own back.” Her expression softened as she continued, “She be sae graceful an’ full o’ light.” Amber-green eyes found Phalon’s face again and she smiled. “Be a seeress, nae much different than ye. Her eyes be tha opposite o’ mine, an’ be turnin’ grey when she be usin’ tha Amharc, tha Sight.”
A seeress, not much different than her? Phalon smiled at the thought. It amused her to be called a “seeress”. The word always conjured up in her mind images of mystical figures spewing forth sage prophecies - priests or priestesses of Apollo, God of Prophecy himself, or those that predicted the future by uttering inspirational revelations. Phalon was none of these. She had never cultivated her use of the “Sight”, instead having just grown used to having her visions, and stumbling her way through understanding the images her mind presented. Some considered it a “gift”, and Phalon had met those who considered it a curse. To her, it was neither . . . it was just part of her, this Sight, or as Bhen Rudha just called it - the Amharc.
Phalon was familiar with the word. She’d heard it from her great aunt Eurayle, known to her then as Aislin Saorla, Queen of Dreams. Aislin Saorla was a wanderer, a gypsy of sorts, whose speech was peppered with words and phrases she’d picked up during her travels. She was one of those mystical figures that Phalon thought of when she heard the word seeress - a woman that Phalon wished she’d been able to spend more time with, learning the ways of healing and how to use the Amharc. As it was, the time spent with her to short, and much of it fuzzy in Phalon’s mind. Those were the days, months, or perhaps years - Phalon was still unsure exactly how long it had been - that shed spent drifting in and out of sanity. She twisted the heavy silver ring on her finger that Eurayle had left her, and recalled her mother telling her great aunt’s tale and of her travels to Eire, Sasann and Albin. That must have been when she started calling her sight Amharc, Phalon thought. She never recalled hearing of the Bandroi an Cogadh, though, and Phalon wondered if it were some kind of priestess, and what it had to do with Red’s ravens. “Are you Bandroi an Cogadh like your mother?” Phalon asked, stumbling over the foreign sounding words. “Do you have the Sight also, Red?” Again, she felt as if the other woman could help her to understand things within her that she didn’t quite grasp. The Widow, the Witch and the Warrior. How could it all balance? Or did it?
Watching the expression on Phalon’s face carefully, Bhen Ruhda answered, “I be like her, aye, and nae.” Seeing the other’s confusion, she continued with a half smile on her lips. “Tha Bandiá . . . tha Goddess Morrigu, be three an’ tha same,” she held up her fist and lifted a finger as she counted each name, “there be Morgan, tha Witch, Macha, tha Warrior, an Bobd, tha Widow. A Bandroi an Cogadh be servin’ tha Morrigu as a whole, but be bound ta a face deeper than tha others. Me Máthair be bound ta Morgan, she be havin’ tha Amharc when she be a girl . . . be her birth gift, aye?” When Phalon nodded slowly, only then did she continue, “Me, I be bonded ta Macha, fer I be born with tha madness o’ tha battle inside o’ me.”
Warmth suffused her shoulders and spread down as she spoke, reminding her of the ink and the grace that covered her back, still dark and sharp as the day she had passed her final test. Warriors are the closest to the Lady, her teacher Luighseach had said, and she struggled to understand fully that wisdom. When her silence had gone on too long, she took a breath and lifted her face back to the sky before she spoke, “When tha Bandiá be acceptin’ ye as priestess . . . as Bandroi an Cogadh, an’ tha ravens be marked on yer back, ye be recievin’ gifts from tha two faces ye dinnae be bonded ta. From Bobd I be granted tha magick ta be pullin’ pain inta me own self.” Her words fell away as she thought of a small broken body, amber eyes glazed and lifeless.
“So then Morgan gave you the Sight?” Phalon asked.
“Nae . . . I dinnae. Tha gift o’ tha First Sister be knowin’ tha language o’ tha spirit, ta be sharin’ with yer . . . Triréad,” the last word barely escaped her lips, making the seeress lean forward to try and catch it. Mist that had nothing to do with battle closed over the Red Woman’s vision and she shook her head angrily, willing the tears back and tried to speak the word again, “Triréad . . . tha three ravens tha’ be with e’ery Bandroi,” . . . except this one, the sentence finished itself in her mind unbidden, and she flinched from the thought.
Phalon saw the flinch and the pained expression in Bhen Rudha’s amber eyes, and she wondered if she dared uttered what she was thinking. They were both silent for a moment, and Phalon tilted her head back, looking towards the sky as if searching for something she knew would not be there. Finally, very softly, she asked, “They are truly gone then?”
As if to mock her question, a raven’s harsh cry arced over the sky, echoing in the distance. Grief closed around Bhen Rudha’s throat, making her choke. She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned over, her knees collapsing until she huddled on the ground. Immediately Phalon reached to place her hands on her shoulders, and with contact...
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Post by BhenRudha on Jul 6, 2004 4:41:18 GMT -6
“Hatred”, the seeress said aloud, flicking a dead insect from her arm. Deep green eyes took in the group of women as she repeated, “Evil’s name is Kedos…Hatred.”
The name struck the priestess in the stomach and she felt a tearing in her head that washed her vision black. For several long, breathless moments she remained in the darkness, trying to figure out what had happened. Her lungs began hammering from lack of air, and she had to force herself to take another breath. From far away she noticed that the gentle down pour was evolving into a torrent, and knew that the Goddess’ reprieve was short indeed.
She sucked more air into her lungs, turning the conscious act into a focus point. From this beginning she tried to discover what had happened. The heat that had tortured the group of women was definitely gone. The healing water that Evergreen had managed to call had already been perverted by Xendra’s control over the elements.
Her breathing deepened . . . in . . . out . . . in . . . out . . . and she studied the forces encompassed within her will. Each was in its place, contained, if not contented. Satisfied that she was whole, she tried to open her eyes, but remained in the dark.
Assured that she would remain breathing, Bhen Rudha turned her thoughts to her sisters, hoping they would have an answer. It was then she discovered a hole in her spirit. Where there once was three, there were only two.
*She went alone, we could not stop her,* Widow spoke, her voice full of grieving.
*Where? Where did she go?* the priestess asked, panic rising quickly.
Before one of the ravens could answer, a word slashed through her will, hurled from a great distance. The tortured syllables bent the limits of her sanity, and for a heartbeat, Bhen Rudha thought she would fall into the void, never to return.
Only training forced the word deep within her psyche, covering it in layers of subconscious, to save her life. In the word’s considerable wake she struggled for coherent thought. *That was its name, wasn’t it?*
*Indeed, priestess. Our sister pierced the veil and found it. The seeress gave her the key,* Warrior spoke slowly, with equal parts mourning, and sympathy for Bhen Rudha’s suffering.
*Cailleach?* the priestess spoke into the hole in her spirit. When there was no answer, she whimpered, *Why does she not return? Why can I not feel her at all?*
*She passed beyond our powers, into the First Beginning, where not even the Morrigu dare to trespass,* said Widow.
...as the memory played to its conclusion, Bhen Rudha spoke softly, through the veil of tears, “They be gone, aye. One be dead, an’ tha other twa I be driven’ away with me own grief.” The words sparked another memory...
Dust choked her and she coughed. When that brought no new agony, she placed her palms against the forest floor and attempted to push herself upright. It was then she discovered the body of a raven tucked lovingly in her arms.
Without warning, a sob tightened her throat. She knew now that she was not dead, for in the Summerland she would have been spared such torment. Unable to bottle the emotion away, she let herself weep. Silently a pair of ravens landed near the priestess, trying to give what comfort they might. She waved an arm to drive them off, unable to face either their blame or forgiveness, and so they took wing again, to grieve together and wait.
...”An’ ye see? E’en though I be standin’ up ta Zena, I be a limpin’ sort o’ priestess withou’ me Triréad,” Bhen Rudha said, looking up at Phalon with tear filled eyes.
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