[Theo's Farm] As The Summer Evenings Grow (Seodai)

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke followed Seodai happily, staring intently at the gnosis mark on the young man’s back as he led the Vantha to a plot covered with ground hugging vines. Melons were as unknown to Syllke as grapes were. Neither fruit traveled well enough to survive the voyage by sea north. So he regarded the still baseball size orbs with curiosity as he listened. Dropping to his knees, he touched the rough surface of one, and then the broad leaves, and next the dirt, which felt warm in the sunshine, but cooler under the protective covering of plant life. He was nodding along, his tactile senses for the moment overriding his brain processing what he was hearing. The next thing he knew, Seodai was walking away, ostensibly to do something else. Syllke looked up and watched Seodai leave him to his assigned task, and for a moment he wondered how he was to tell weed from melon plant – it seemed very arbitrary to him. One was desirable, the other anathema. His gaze fell back to the greenery around him, and it occurred to him perhaps weeding was a bit like carving – just get rid of what wasn’t supposed to be there – what didn’t fit. Bending, he reached for a thing sprouting up out of the earth that did not look like a melon vine. He tugged and was surprised that it clung tenaciously to its anchor. This made him smile. It seemed the weeds were perhaps not so inclined to view themselves in such a negative light as the young farmer did. Still, he yanked harder and it gave, and he tossed it onto the pile of unwanted life. Well, in the end, it all went around in a circle, he thought philosophically. Wondering why the farmer didn’t feed the weeds to his animals, or someone else’s animals, Syllke shelved that question for later. Reaching for another thing that might have been a weed, he yanked and tossed, and began an erratic pattern of clearing the soil of the unwelcome squatters. The sun beating down on his exposed back felt good. But after a while, he was quite hot – his dark hair seeming to absorb the heat and hold it on his head like a woolen cap. Sweat trickled from his brow and between his shoulder blades, and he began to wonder just how long this task Seodai had set him would last. Until all the weeds were pulled, he concluded. So, with a bit more recklessness, he plucked and pulled and built up the pile destined for destruction by flame. Finally, to his eye, it seemed there were no more offensive looking bits of greenery. With a sigh, Syllke sat back on his bottom, then crossed his legs under him, staring at the fruits around him. After a long moment, he plucked one from its vine, one of the larger ones. He drew his knife from the sheath at his belt, and sliced the firm globe open, carefully examining its insides. The flesh was smooth and moist and pale orange. Cutting out a chunk, he placed it in his mouth and bit down, smiling at the taste and texture. Methodically, he ate the melon, until only the rind was left. He thought he could pay the farmer for the bounty of this wonderful growing place. When he was done, he sat still as stone, contemplating the plants around him. How long he had been lost in his reverie was unknown, but when Seodai approached, he seemed barely to acknowledge him. At the man’s words, though, he stretched out his hand for vessel of water. Syllke took a deep sip of the refreshing liquid, then dumped the rest over his head, shaking his hair like a dog, water droplets flying everywhere. “Do you know the story of the raven and the melon?” he asked, looking up at Seodai, apparently not having heard his question.

[Seodai]

"No." Seodai was scarcely as lost in thought as the young helper seemed to be, and so he was bemused at the lack of a response to his question. Though, as he took the entire scene in, he saw the rind of the eaten melon and expected that perhaps Syllke had filled his stomach already. As it were, Seo felt the tension of a good days work across his back and shoulders, and he wanted very much to sit and rest. "Come. Tell me around the fire." Having said that, Seo scooped to deftly pick up the pile of weeds. With a small smile tossed over his shoulder towards his guest, he set off towards the house. He diverted around it and kept going until they had passed the hen house, where animals clucked their greeting as they passed. After a moment they came to a burned out place which was undoubtedly a fire pit. It was dark and cold at the moment, but stones created a ring and the charcoal debris of the last fire still lay within it's center. Without a word Seo dropped his load and set to building a fire, a task he was well versed in. Soon there were roaring flames, and these flames eagerly swallowed up the bitter plants Syllke had spent the better part of his evening plucking. "Thanks for that," Seo said at last, hefting a heavy kettle up to hang over the fire. Within was a hearty stew of sorts, and it quickly began to heat, and to smell delicious, as Seo finally dropped into the cool, familiar grass beside of Syllke. "So," he said, releasing a heavy sigh. Another day was done, and it was a good one. He was exhausted, but pleased. And company was not something he usually relished in, but he had to be nice about it at least. And so he found himself propped on his elbows, peering up at the interesting eyes of the Vantha. "The melon and the who?"

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke followed readily enough. It wasn’t the lure of possible food that had him almost treading on Seodai’s heels, but that mark on the young man’s back. And the man himself. Beyond just the novelty of meeting someone for the first time, and the fact that Seodai possessed such an amazing gift, Syllke’s eyes were drawn to the lines of Seodai’s body and face. If he had been possessed of a chunk of crystal clear ice, he would be reforming it right this very instant to capture those planes and curves and angles. The result in all probability might not be immediately recognizable as Seodai. But the essence of his form would be there, interpreted by the shifting color in Syllke’s eyes and the creative spark in his mind. With hope that this compulsion to somehow recreate Seodai in one medium or another might yet be satisfied, Syllke went willingly with him to the fire pit. After his offer to help get things going was declined in a friendly way, Syllke sat cross legged in the longish grass, running his palm lightly over the tips of the blades as he watched Seodai, somewhat absent mindedly, as he thought. Seodai was busy for a few minutes, but finally collapsed beside the Vantha. Syllke did not immediately begin speaking, but he subtly rearranged his body, his posture straightening, and his hands now resting loosely on his knees. His eyes looked into the fire, its light dancing on the surface of the color shifting irises, its changing patterns of red, orange, yellow and blue reflected in their depths. In a slightly different tone of voice, he began his tale with a lilting, almost sing-song quality. Long ago, in a hold far to the south of Avanthal, in a land where the summer sun danced in the sky long enough for Bala to bless the earth with growth, there lived a creature, far up on a mountain. It was Raven. He lived by himself, and was quite lonely, as he looked down to the village below, in the valley. He wished to make friends with the villagers, but when they saw his large size and huge black cloak of feathers, they were afraid and they drove him away. So alone he sat, in his mountain home. Below in the village lived a boy who loved always to be throwing things. He threw rocks. He threw sticks. He threw his little sister’s rag doll. Often the village elders scolded him and told him not to be so naughty and to behave. But still, whenever he came upon something handy, he would pick it up and throw it. One day a traveler came to the village. He was a trader and he carried with him some seeds. He told the villagers that they should take the seeds and plant them in the earth and ask for Bala’s blessings and a wonderous vine would grow curling out of the ground. From that vine, flowers would bloom and from these small green balls would form. The balls would grow and lighten in color and grow some more, until they were bigger then a baby’s head. Then the globes should be plucked, the traveler said, and sliced open, and inside would be the most delicious fruit they had ever tasted. It was called “Melon.” The villagers were very happy and eagerly traded furs and carvings and smoked fish for the precious seeds. But the naughty boy saw the seeds and when the elders were not looking, he stole them, and he ran far out into the fields. He began to throw the seeds as far as he could. One by one, further and further they went. Most dropped to the ground. But one went sailing – high, high, and higher. It did not stop, until it was far, far up in the sky. And still it kept going, until it finally stopped way, way, way up in the heavens. The boy was amazed. When the villagers found out what the boy had done, they were furious. He had wasted the precious seeds! They had traded all their goods for nothing – and now they would never taste the most delicious fruit ever. They beat him and sent him to bed without supper. That night, hungry beyond belief, the boy crawled out of the hold and went out in search of some summer berries to ease the pain in his stomach. He looked up in the sky and he stopped, his mouth open. It was night, and the sun had set. This was a time before there was any body that shown in the night sky. But the boy stood and stared because now there was something up there. It was a small sliver of orange – right where he had seen the wonderful seed plant itself. He watched and it slowly rode through the night sky, lending a pale but beautiful light to the land below. Finally the boy went to bed, too amazed and fearful to tell anyone of what he had seen. But the next night, when he stepped outside, to see if the sliver was there again in the dark sky above, his mouth opened wide – for now the sliver was bigger. Not by much, but definitely bigger. He watched this strange new being slide through the inky darkness, and finally went back to bed. The next night was the same, and the one after that the same again, with each night the orange slice growing larger still. On the fifth night, frightened and dismayed, the boy finally summoned up his courage and went and called the elders to come see. The old men looked skywards in disbelief as the boy tearfully told them what he had done – how he had thrown the one seed so far that it had sailed right up into the heavens, and now . . . well, it looked like it had sprouted. The elders were shaken and confused and afraid, and they talked and muttered amongst themselves, but they could think of nothing that they could do about this odd happening. For many nights, the villagers would watch the evening sky anxiously, and when the sun departed and the heavens darkened, each night the sliver would appear, larger and larger with each passing day. Another discovery was made, one which brought some joy to the village but which was overshadowed by the growth of the seed in the sky. When the boy had gone out to look at where the other seeds had fallen to the earth, he found the vines the traveler had spoken of already sprouting. Each day the plants grew tremendously – perhaps Bala had already blessed them. Within a few days, the fruit was bigger than a baby’s head and hesitantly, one was plucked, and warily sliced open. Inside, the villagers were amazed to find a fruit the exact color of its brother in the sky. So it was that the villagers now knew for sure – the thing in the night sky was indeed – a melon! When the villagers tasted the firm, juicy flesh of that first melon, they smiled broadly for the first time in many days. It was every bit as sweet and delicious as the traveler had said. They ate and ate of the wondrous orbs and for a while, they were happy. But when night fell again, their smiles and their happiness vanished. The orange slice was now almost a big, glowing circle of light. The villagers were afraid. What if the melon in the sky never stopped growing? What if it grew and grew and grew until it filled the whole night sky? What if it pushed the sun out of her rightful place and never again would they feel her warm kiss or bask in her bright light? What would they do? What could they do? The villager elders held a long, long meeting. They talked for hours and hours and hours. Then finally, they came to the boy and said, “We have an idea. Because you are the cause for all this trouble, it will be up to you to try to fix it. We want you to go up on the mountain, to the home of Raven. Raven is a big bird, and always hungry. He is brave and bold, and you must be too. Ask Raven to fly into the sky and eat the melon. Then the skies will be safe and the sun will not have to run away. The boy considered this carefully and then nodded. It seemed like a good idea, and though Raven was big and scary, he knew he needed to be brave to help his people. So off he went, climbing and climbing and climbing until he was almost as high as the clouds. Finally he reached Raven’s home. Respectfully and politely, but with his heart in his throat, he greeted Raven as an elder, and he asked, “Raven, the people of my village below have need of your services. We must ask a favor of you. In return, the elders say they will grant you any boon that you would have.” Raven cocked his shiny black head and looked intelligently at the boy with his bright, dark eye. “Tell me what you would have me do, boy.” He croaked. The boy, thankful that Raven was not trying to eat him, pointed up to the sky, which even then was beginning to darken. “You have seen the strange object in the night sky, and how it grows bigger and bigger? It is a melon, like this.” The boy held out a slice of melon for Raven to see. “I was naughty and threw a seed up so far it planted itself in the sky. And now it grows bigger and bigger still. We are afraid it will grow so big it takes over the heavens and chases away the sun. We thought, perhaps, that you might fly up there and eat the melon. Then we would not have to be afraid.” Raven looked at the boy thoughtfully, then pecked with his sharp beak, but not at the boy – at the melon he held in his hand. Raven took a piece of melon in his mouth and tasted the sweet juice and soft flesh. Slowly he nodded his head. “I will do as you ask.” He said finally. The boy smiled and smiled, and asked, “And what boon do you require?” “I will tell you that when I return.” Raven replied, and launching himself off the mountain, he spread his great dark wings and soared up, higher and higher. By the time he reached the melon in the sky it was a huge round circle. Slowly and methodically, Raven began to eat. He ate and ate and ate, and ate some more. But the melon was so big that he could only reduce its size by just one small slice, and that took all night. Finally, he was so full he could barely fly, but he glided back down to the mountain where the boy waited for him. For many days, the raven flew back into the night sky and ate away at the melon, bit by bit, until finally one last night it appeared to be gone. For the last time, he flew back to the boy. The boy smiled broadly, relieved at last. “Thank you, Raven. Many thanks. Now, what will you ask of us?” Raven looked at the boy in a kindly way. “All I ask is that you and the other villagers be my friends, and allow me to come live amongst you, for I am lonely.” The boy’s face fell a bit. For himself, he was happy to be Raven’s friend, for he had seen that Raven was a clever, gentle soul. But he did not know how the others would feel. But – they had agreed. “Alright.” He said softly. “Come with me then.” Raven happily followed the boy down the mountain until they reached the village. There they were met by smiling villagers who were overjoyed that the sky melon was gone. But when the boy explained Raven’s request, they scowled and grumbled. But at last they agreed, grudgingly. They had promised – they would keep their promise, for now. Many whispered that, as the sky melon was gone, perhaps in a bit they could find some excuse to shoo Raven away. But – clever Raven. He knew of the treachery of men, and he had eaten all but one small bit of the sky melon. The next night, a tiny sliver appeared again, and over the next days, it grew, larger and larger. The villagers were unhappy once more, and once again, they asked Raven to help. So when the melon was a big orange circle, Ravn flew up and ate away at it, until finally once more it was gone, though he was careful to leave a small piece. And so it was that Raven and his kind came to live amongst man, a somewhat unwelcome guest, but always happy to eat up anything man deems unwanted. The sky melon still rides above us, for Raven is always too clever to eat it entirely. The boy and Raven grew very close and were great friends, with Raven whispering wisdom into the boy’s ear so that when he grew up, he became a respected and admired elder of his people. Syllke came to a halt, and smiled at Seodai. “At least that’s one explanation.” He nodded towards the big pot hanging over the fire. “Do you think that’s’ ready yet?”

[Seodai]

Seodai was enthralled with the tale, from the very first word until the last. He had sprawled out on the dirt beside of Syllke and at some point in the story rolled to his side instead, firelight dancing along his features, creating shadows to contrast with the golden highlights as the farmer listened attentively. It was a fascinating story. Even if he did not believe it at all, Seo could not help but see how profoundly such folk tales could affect someone. And, the best part of it perhaps, was the way Syllke’s eyes danced with color as he spoke. They were like the great lights he had heard of, far far in the north. “It is a beautiful version,” he quipped lightly, unhappy for the spell to have been broken. He felt like a boy again, eager to beg Uncle Theo to tell just one more story before he must sleep. He didn’t beg this stranger, this Syllke though. Instead he shuffled to feet that had found themselves bare during the telling of the story, and reached out to stir the hearty stew. It was, in fact, ready. Seo filled a simple wooden bowl and passed it towards his guest, before doing the same for himself. The smell was as pleasing as any taste of it could have been. Rich and flavorful, the stew was full of fresh, healthy vegetables and broth that would satisfy the most hungry of men. He swirled his around a little, but looked back to Syllke before he ate. The firelight, crackling just beyond his feet, made everything feel softer somehow. The sun had yet to wane entirely and the entire world was awash in orange, so it wasn’t as if he needed the light to see by. There was just something so familiar and earthy and comforting about it. It made Syllke seem less imposing, less unfamiliar, less strange somehow. Seo fixed him with a smile. “It was a fantastic story. Where did you learn it?”

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke accepted the bowl happily, and when Seodai sat again, he replied easily with a shrug. “Oh, I made it up, when I was looking at the melon. When I sliced it open, it made me think of the quarter moon, and the seeds made me wonder if maybe the tales of Leth are the right ones. I don’t know of anyone who has met Leth, do you?” His eyes sparking with gold lowlights, he absorbed the way the firelight danced off the young farmer’s lightly tanned skin, trying to make it a part of his memory.

[Seodai]

"Oh," Seo said simply, though it was really a sort of amazed admission. The story seemed so complicated. How, or why, had it come to the Vantha's mind? Over a melon? Really? Seodai was quiet for a time, musing. Did he lack creativity? He felt like it, in the presence of the silver tongued stranger who was happily sipping at his stew. "My uncle is a great storyteller," he said at last. "But he hasn't met Leth. I don't know anyone who has. Only Bala," he breathed, rolling a bit so that he lounged on his stomach, staring up at Syllke. "It's strange, don't you think? Gods, and goddesses. How they are so far removed from us, but sometimes not." Seo twisted his lips, dissatisfied with his expression. "It doesn't sound as unusual when I say it out loud. But.. I don't know. What is it like, where you come from?" Seodai made a pillow of his arms, and half smiled up towards his guest. He seemed as at home in the dirt as he might have been a luxurious bed.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Syllke ate the stew as unselfconsciously as a hungry boy could. He looked at Seodai over the edge of the bowl as he held it to his lips. “Does your uncle live here in Denval? Maybe I could meet him, and we could swap stories.” The words were just a bit slurred by the hot food in Syllke’s mouth. “Did he tell you what it was like – meeting Bala? I’ve never met Morwen, but I’ve felt her presence many times. She has a special love for us, the Vantha.” He took another bite, and considered Seodai’s question. “I don’t know, for me, Morwen is . . . all around, always. I never doubt that she is close.” He tilted his head looking down at the handsome boy stretched out so easily beside him. “I suppose, though, that maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she is far away sometimes. But – if so – I’d rather not know. I like to think she is near.” Scooping more stew into his mouth, he added, “I don’t think the other gods wander as far north as Avanthal. We never heard too much from them. Maybe they don’t care to have their nut sacks and tits frozen off.” He smirked.

[Seodai]

Seodai laughed. Out loud. Syllke couldn't know that it was something of an uncommon occurrence. It wasn't that Seo wasn't happy enough, he was just somewhat mild in his mannerisms all around. But hearing someone who seemed so... pretty ... say such crude things was somehow incredibly amusing. With laughter still in his eyes and a smile still on his lips, he found a blade of grass to toy with and spoke. "My uncle lives here. This is his farm. Our farm. He'll be home soon, I imagine. As for Bala..." Seo said, sitting up again. The way he curled his legs beneath him left him closer to Syllke than he had started, but he leaned back on his palms to make up for it. "I've met Bala." The words were spoken in an almost hushed voice, the wonder of that experience still evident in his tone, even after all those years. "It's... like nothing you could imagine. She's... perfect." Seodai had forgotten, at least for a time, that Syllke was a stranger.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Seodai’s laugh was a nice one, melodic - if quiet. As the young man spoke of his patroness, Syllke looked intently at his face – the grace that shaped the lines when the goddess was invoked. How he would love to sketch it, paint it, draw it – or more than anything, carve it. If he could somehow capture that look of – radiant peace. His fingers flexed around the bowl. It was empty already, and he set it aside, wiping his mouth casually with his palm. Pulling one knee up to his chest, wrapping an arm around his shin and resting his cheek on his knee, he looked sideways at Seodai, who was now a bit closer, leaning back on his hand. Syllke’s elbow jutted out only a few inch from Seodai’s exposed ribs. The firelight danced on Seodai’s now golden skin, as the sun sank lower almost embracing the horizon. If he had looked up, Syllke would have seen the first star of evening in the cerulean sky. But he kept his eyes, flickering with an undulating pattern of shifting colors, fixed on the other boy, wanting desperately to keep that look on Seodai’s face. “Tell me about your goddess, Seodai.” He said softly. “Paint a picture for me of her loveliness.” Syllke had an instinctual gift for honing in on that which would set his subject’s expression, posture . . . their mien, in the lines and attitudes which he found most intriguing, and beautiful. For his art, he could be most ruthlessly manipulative, though all on a subconscious level - for the most part.

[Seodai]

Seodai was lost in the fire for a long moment after Syllke uttered his request, trying to find words. How did one express something so divine with pathetic human language? If he was being manipulated, Seodai was completely oblivious to it. Perhaps that was a downfall to his relative isolation. He had no idea how to ferret out hidden agendas. "Oh," he breathed softly, shifting a little. "Bala..." Syllke got his wish, if he wanted to keep the youthful lines of Seo's face fixed in an absolutely awed, adoring expression. The farmer mulled it over, recalling that day, that touch. How could he encapsulate it well enough to share with another? Seo got gooseflesh just thinking of the Goddess who had become mother and lover and sister and so much more to him when her lips had brushed his, claiming him. "She smells like autumn," he said, a smile tugging his lips upwards. "Like spice, or ... baked apples. Sweet bread, in the morning. She looks like.... sunrise over a field of wheat. Beautiful, Syllke. I can't..." Seo said, struggling. He touseled his messy hair, pursing his lips again in a boyish expression of perplexion. "And her kiss. It's like... sweet, fresh water on the hottest day. Like the harvest festival when you've not eaten for weeks. It reaches inside you and chills what burns, enflames what is ice." With the flush of earnestness tinging his face pink in the fading light, Seodai shot his audience a sheepish smile and gave a little shrug. "Bala is my Goddess, my life."