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Seeking Clarity [Closed] - Mho - 09-06-2010
The central room of the old seer's home was silent but for the soft sounds of a sleeper’s breath. The strong oak that made the walls kept outside noises where they belonged; in kind, the boards that closed all doors and windows were crafted with such skill that no voice could penetrate. The air inside stood slightly stagnant, and a dim glow emanated from a close-lidded oil lamp, hung suspended within the fireplace.
Four doors punctuated the room's walls, sharing the space with two windows and almost a dozen wall ornaments. On one wall, a ladder led up to the low floor half atop the main, where the seers slept... But for today. Today, a makeshift bed lie near the middle of the spacious floor, pulled together from sheets, blankets, skins and other things of the like, upon which a lone figure lay light in slumber after a restless morning.
Afternoon sunlight streamed into the little cabin, casting dancing dust motes into sharp relief and cutting brilliant squares onto the smooth grain of the wooden floor. The front door opened, briefly streaming a pillar of light across the floorboards, before it was again quietly shut. Faint footsteps padded over to the half-curled figure, not yet found by the sun’s questing beams.
The young Miqo’te woman lie on her side, tightly sprawled on the low heap of bedding, pale blonde hair wild and cheek bandaged. Her mirror image sat down next to her, legs tucked neatly to the side, carrying a tall lacquered cup of steaming liquid. Rhea stirred with a groan, cracked open one eye, and rolled away from the light with a protesting scrunch of her features. Mho spoke gently, setting the cup in front of her twin’s face.
"Sister. The mirror’s gaze turned upon us last night... Though I think you’ve realized." She hesitated uncertainly as Rhea sat up to sniff at the cup, wincing from the effort. "Easy," she murmured before continuing. "She’s passed, and left us the embers of her wake. I wrote them down."
"I... can’t feel the stir," began Rhea, eyes focusing on the cup. "Though another’s taken its place." The light, herbal scent of its contents seemed to ground her, and she brought it to her lips for a taste. She recoiled a little upon realizing that her hair had fallen in front of her face, and she swept it aside before repeating the motion. A grimace pursed her lips as the heat scalded them, and she set the cup back down with a grunt at the little shake of her sister’s head. "Some time yet, hm?" Rhea closed her eyes in reflection, pausing long moments before her voice steadied. "She wasn’t gentle of word, was she?"
"No. The Seeker’s bidding left no time to dally..."
Rhea gingerly touched the bandage at her cheek. In the process she noticed that her hand, also, was wrapped. She sighed and blew on the fragrant steam rising from the cup beside her, staring blankly in silence as her sister sat beside her. She frowned, her smooth brow furrowing as she seemed to debate some inner conflict. Unnoticed, Mho rose beside her and padded across the modestly furnished room.
"Will you eat?" The question caught Rhea off guard, and all she could manage was a "Hn?" Mho patiently repeated the question and half-turned to regard her sister, framed sunlight granting her plaited locks a golden sheen.
Rhea frowned. "I do hunger. But it may be too early yet." She pulled herself into a sitting position and inhaled deeply, nose inclined to the still-steaming cup. A satisfied smile crept across her face, replacing the pensive frown. "Though I feel better but from the scent. What did she say?"
Mho walked to a low table at the far side of the room in silence, pulling out a rough stool and settling a scrap of parchment in front of her. Behind her, Rhea straightened to listen, a pained twinge shooting across her face from the effort. Mho began to read; her clear, high voice rose and fell in the musical cadence of recitation.
- "Steps and steps I hear, a long journey in rhythm;
steps coming hither, strides hastening here,
these pass into understanding—
my sister speaks, and the circle is complete.
An ash shall come, bearing the oak;
spreading branches offer shelter to birds of air,
roost they at ease; of this the nightingale sings—
by its own will is the thrush carried away;
in lands distant the feathered awaken.
Steps and steps I see, a long journey in tracks;
steps coming hither, paces falling in line,
from the wave-steed’s stables journeys the stout ash,
and with him, the killing oak.
Servant of terrible Wisdom’s children is he,
bound by oaths of hair’s breadth;
over him are the wind-reader, the blade-wetter;
one from the skin and bones of earth doth dead secrets coax,
the other jealously doth his brother ward.
Steps and steps I know, a long journey in deed;
steps going thither, tread lightened by song,
now passes from sight the laden voyager—
birdsong raised to twine with arching bough."[/list:u]
The younger turned on her stool to watch the older, gauging her reaction. Rhea sat, idly sipping the concoction with a thoughtful look on her face. Finally, she spoke.
"It seems a bit warmer to drink now."
"The birds," prompted Mho.
"Hn?"
"The birds are to travel," repeated Mho, unable to hide a small, fond smile of amusement.
"Oh." Rhea tore her attention from her drink and squinted across the room at her sister. "Birds..." she murmured. She rubbed a temple with her fingers and took another long drink.
"You spoke of a giant, bearing the heart of the forest. The ‘killing oak’." Mho kept her voice quiet and calm, doing her best not to aggravate her sister’s condition. Her tail made long, steady swoops as she watched her twin attempt to finger-comb her disheveled hair into some semblance of order.
"The killing oak... The heart of the forest-" Rhea halted for a moment, frowning at a newly-discovered knot. "We’ve seen neither so far, have we? Then it’s to be, or now is." Mho nodded, and Rhea added, "I’m lead to think ‘to be’? Or perhaps taken from being to beyond. The giant’s journey seems long for a night."
Mho let her eyes stray to the floor, biting the inside of her lower lip thoughtfully. "I heard no whisper of the keepers."
"Mm," grunted Rhea. "Then perhaps the ‘killing oak’ is what’s whispered. The bringer of an end?" Her voice trailed into an amused curl, by now quickly recovering her facilities.
"The song of birds was renewed by his passage," replied Mho, shaking her head. "If it’s an end he brings, it’s one not yet to come. Or an end, to bring the new. The ash... Or ashes?" She twitched her ears pensively. "I was led to understand a tree. If it is an end the ash brings, then song heralds birth anew..."
"Upon the branches of the ash," interjected Rhea.
"The branches shelter the song," agreed Mho. "Or at least, those who sing it. The birds."
"And what might those be?"
Mho pursed her lips thoughtfully and rose, pacing across the room. The modest cabin almost seemed to pause to reflect this, as if lost in thoughts of its own. Absently Mho's gaze drifted toward its walls for inspiration, where every generation of seers that had come before them had left a mark of their own. Woven tapestries, hand-crafted tools and equipment, even bones of spirit-guides, assembled to honor their former owners. The scant furniture was far less evocative, suggesting a humble abode – clutter here and there despite all of Mho's attempts at organization.
Rhea rolled out her neck and drained her cup to the dregs, letting out a satisfied breath and pushing it to the side. She watched idly as Mho continued to pace, the younger brushing the knuckles of one hand across her lips as she thought. Finally, she stopped and turned to Rhea.
"You also said that the giant finds the mirror."
"...then..."
Mho nodded. "Yesterday was an important day, wasn’t it?"
Rhea closed her eyes and stretched. "It was. Though I can’t speak if she intended her words for the day or not. We sorta forced them out, didn’t we?"
"You were called. I wasn’t brought to you until a little while after." Mho’s eyes strayed to the bandages on Rhea’s cheek and hand. Rhea followed her gaze and gave the wounded hand an experimental flex. "Finished?" asked Mho, stepping over to collect the emptied glass.
"Quite. Thank you," smiled Rhea.
"So," Mho pondered, turning the cup in her hands without quite realizing what she was doing, "The ash comes for the mirror... And the oak he bears brings an end? Or only the power to end."
The wild-haired sister leaned forward, traces of her earlier soreness still lingering in the motion, and propped her elbows on her knees. "It could be both," she asserted diffidently. "The power to end may in itself mean the end of something." Rhea’s tail thumped against the furs languidly as her younger sister went back to her pacing, making a thoughtful sound.
"So then, if the ash brings the end, but also a shelter at journey’s end..." Mho trailed off, still pacing, before looking up suddenly. "Ah! But the journey does not end. It begins anew, with mirrored song?" She halted and looked to Rhea with uncertainty, but went on when her sister nodded in approval. "But where? He is bound to the twins. Are we to reflect the wisdom of the scryer and the blade?" Mho gnawed at her lip, still unsure.
"By their will? Or to witness a song sung for other ears?" countered Rhea, evenly.
"I don’t know. But I don’t relish the thought of meeting the blade-wetter, sister," Mho said, wide tail strokes betraying a hint of apprehension.
The elder sister shrugged and offered a bland smile. "Is there anything to relish with these things? If the eye of dawn leads us to the brothers, she won’t abandon us. Or," she amended, scratching at her bandaged cheek, "If she does, so was her intent."
"Lover forbid," shivered Mho. She stood quietly, contemplating what the future held while the faint whisper of the brook outside meandered through an open window, filling the silence with its merry burble. Simultaneously, the sisters began to speak.
"We’ve enough meal left for some honey ca—"
"An ash, but what brand of...?"
Both paused, looking at each other in surprise. Rhea perked up in interest, eyes shining.
"Oh?" she asked, a grin slowly forming.
"Yes." Mho chuckled, a nearly identical grin touching her own lips. "I’ll get the griddle. We can discuss the rest when you’ve had something to clear your mind?"
Rhea nodded enthusiastically and settled down to wait for breakfast. After all, prophecy was one thing, but honeyed griddle cakes were another entirely.