Legend of Ransera

Norani nodded, seeing the wisdom in her elder's words. Maybe the ants had stopped their attack at the sand line, but perhaps targets such as themselves might entice the risk out of them. And she listened intently to Imogen's words. Norani had always wanted to see what Kythera had been like before it fell to the Imperium, she'd heard it was beautiful, far more so than Drathera. And at Imogen's telling of her parents resisting Zaichaer's despicable government, Norani nodded in agreement. Good. That felt like proper Ecithian attitudes.

It was strange to hear such a dichotomy of Zaichaer beauty within and beauty unseen, by choice. And as Imogen made her declaration on the state of Drathera's own style of governance, Norani piped in, "The stories of old say it was not always the case. The Commonwealth is young but our people are ancient. They once conquered and controlled the entirety of the continent according to our stories of old. My chieftain taught us that the Commonwealth is the worst form of government there is, except for every other type, all of which have been tried among our people at some point or another."

Norani wondered if one could also learn this silverfire similarly to how she learned of her normal fire.

At Imogen's question, Norani did what was only normal to Ecithians for such a question. First she began by untying her breastwraps, pulling them away unashamedly, revealing the glowing lotus flower that was inked upon her heart by a Seer, accompanied in the swirls of the old style of runic pictography that made up the language of Ecith's tattoos. "I am from a small village, and I met Yeva in Drathera when I traveled there with my contingent to acquire my citizenship markings." Norani pointed to the vine like runes beneath the flower, "Yeva found me there, exhausted and alone." A sad smile, "I still don't really understand the life in Drathera. So many more people and while we share many beliefs, our customs do vary differently it seems. I suspect it might be that way with all the villages in regards to the capital."

Her fingers continued to follow along the runes as she spoke, "Our friendship grew, and we traveled back to my village together." Her smile grew, "We grew happier with one another, as she learned our tongue and our culture." Then a deep sigh, "She... helped me out of a dark place. I... my family-around-me and I are not one right now. She is my dearest friend in the world and the only family who accepts me, does not lie to me."

At the core of the flower, "I love her with all that I am, for all that she is." She said this proudly, "We travel together now, leaving the pain of my home to come help with this expedition."

Imogen not mentioning Carina again was not lost on Norani and she did not pursue it further, she did decide to ask more of Imogen's great and elderly wisdom, "Do you think it can be right to keep heartbreaking secrets from the heartbroken? To build a world of lies to support it, in order to protect them, somehow?"

Norani's talk of government meant only so much to Imogen; even the Commonwealth, which seemed quite properly designed to accomplish little, was not precisely legitimate to her view. Perhaps it was a necessary thing, some usurpation of power from the whole to be wielded by the few, but ultimately it was all taken at sword-point. However few laws Ecith might have, someone who broke them would, eventually, have to be made to face steel.

Well, not her place to judge, either. Imogen was entirely pleased to keep such political ruminations to herself.

More moving was the younger girl's obvious pain and infatuation. The latter, especially, was familiar. Still, to have opened so quickly to it, to reveal oneself to someone who was practically a stranger as soon as one felt the stirrings of love...? It was almost enough to make her jealous, but it was no fault but hers that she had never made herself come clean with Carina.

In fact-

When Norani asked her question, Imogen took a moment to look off towards the rising sun, to consider her words. It was one of those obnoxious sorts of philosophical questions, the one where a child should know the answer, but the greatest and wisest still struggled to actually make it. Thankfully, she had an answer for both Norani and herself.

"In Reaving," the witch said, voice somewhat distant, "There is a concept which my old master called debt. You see this-"

Imogen held out her hand with a flourish, and her great pact-sword rematerialized in her hand, steel gleaming with the light of the southern sun. She did not kindle the nova from it, but simply displayed it to Norani.

"This looks like a sword, yes? But it is a fake. A simulacrum. A dream within my spirit, which I have dredged forth and clothed in matter such that it looks like steel, and cuts like steel, and to all the world is steel."

With that, the witch stepped over to a rock--a small boulder, really, embedded in the sands and worn smooth by time and tide--and bashed it with her sword. Ting! it rang; Ting!, and again, Ting! Imogen stepped away, letting out a breath. Three small white indentations now adorned the rock.

"Now I have cut this rock, and I feel nothing. But my sword felt that hurt, that violence of steel upon stone. And that sword, as you now know, is my spirit. The separation between it and myself is mere artifice- a lie. When my spell is done and the sword vanishes, I will feel that hurt. As soon as I dealt those blows, it became inevitable that I would know them."

Imogen held the sword out, regarding it solemnly.

"But right now, I do not. And maybe for another moment too. It is not so hard to maintain this spell; I could do it for weeks, if I had to. But each second, even when I do not hit things, my sword grows imperceptibly heavier. As it moves the air, or jostles in a sheath, or simply is carried along by time, the invisible wounds within it grow. Thus, the lie remains easy to maintain and the truth becomes harder and harder to bear."

"You see where this is going, I wager. Some Reavers, foolhardy or simply pressed beyond their power, find themselves holding swords filled to the brim with violence and hurt. They put off dismissing the spell, fearful that they will not withstand the pain to come. Eventually, they will make themselves correct."

The ork dismissed the spell, allowing her sword to fade like a mirage, shimmering upon the air. She blinked, once; ordinarily, such a tiny pain would not even cross her notice, but she wanted Norani to be able to see the tiny moment of shock.

"But here is the strange thing, Norani; many of those men do survive. There is no magic which can postpone the ruin they fear, yet they survive it. How?"

"The reason is obvious, really: they already bore that pain, didn't they? Those swords weren't holding it from them, they were simply holding it within themselves. It is the same with truth. To hold someone apart from the world to keep them safe is not possible, because they are already in the world."

"So that is what I think. Truth is painful, but inevitable, and anyone who lives can survive it because they already have."

As Imogen spoke, Norani looked on and listened with rapt attention. Her eyes glowed in admiration as the oversized sword appeared out of nowhere, shining bright. And as Imogen explained, Norani tried to make sense of it. She never realized that weapons in reaving came from nothing. Or rather, fully came from magic. She had just assumed they were real and crafted weapons like any other.

And she watched as Imogen clanked it against a rock repeatedly. She cocked her head a bit, still not yet understanding. Her eyes widened as she realized that the sword was Imogen's soul. Or an extension of it maybe? But as Imogen continued, understanding began to creep within the younger Orkhan's mind. She felt sheepish at this now, she had balled up a lot of her pain and anger for a long time now. Not letting it out.

She was afraid what letting it might do.

And she watched as the sword disappeared and she saw the small sliver of pain cross the woman's eyes. She wondered how bad it would be after a long and difficult fight. How would they survive that pain on top of any actual wounds they occurred?

As though she'd heard her mind, Imogen answered.

Norani's mouth opened in an 'o' as the lesson was made clear. She knew her parents had been trying to protect her from the pain of Juno having been stolen away. But she never thought about the pain that doing so might have caused them too. She had always believed them to be truthful, honorable, and caring, and when that had been proven to not be perfect, she had lashed out, loudly, painfully, angrily. She had hurt them because she had been hurt.

But they were probably already in pain at having to keep that truth from her.

She closed her eyes, tears flowing silently down her cheeks. She was doing to herself that which her parents had done to her. Causing more pain by not facing the truth of it all. She was lightly nodding her head toward Imogen, "Thank you. You are very wise. And kind."

She had a lot to think about, and she wanted nothing more than to seek the comfort of Yeva. Her dear friend was nothing but endless support and caring, and the Orkhan lass wished to share these feelings with her. And so, with a curt nod, wiping away her tears on her forearm, Norani took her leave, heading back to her hut.

Imogen

Loot: An admiring acolyte
Injuries: Some annoying bites

Points: 10, may not be used for magic.

Comments: It's so nice to see the ancient witches guiding the youngest generations with caring and empathy. And swords.'


Norani

Loot: A good lesson
Injuries: Some annoying bites

Points: 10, may not be used for magic.

Comments: Norani was definitely there.