Satevis' Fortune

by **Anselm** on May 2nd, 2012, 2:22 am

Satevis' Fortune
20th Spring 512
Marketplace in Zeltiva

OOC :

Anselm's empty gray eyes stared unblinking at the young man from under the heavy dark hood that covered his head and cast a shadow across his face. He waved his hand as if to dismiss the man from his presence. “Sit,” he ordered in a low, raspy voice. He was tired and didn't really want to engage another customer today. You should have gone home an hour ago old man, he thought to himself. But the man was a paying customer and even a Nuit has to make a living.

He brought a small cloth bag out from under the long black cloak that covered nearly all of him. He carefully untied it and poured the contents of into his right hand, which was gloved. Anselm always wore thin black gloves when dealing with people, so as to save his customers the disconcerting experience of coming into direct contact his his cold, dead skin. He held out his hand so the man could see what he had. What he had were eighteen tiny bones engraved with intricately carved designs.

“Do you have a particular question you want to ask?” He asked. “It's not strictly necessary, but an answer without a question can be a peculiar beast and is often not very helpful.”

by **Satevis** on May 2nd, 2012, 3:17 am

Satevis did as he was told, taking a seat across the table from the man. The fortune-teller seemed to be a little annoyed with his presence, but then again, it was late in the day. He himself was starting to feel tired and hungry, but he ignored the feeling, knowing that in less than two hours the hunger at least would no longer matter.

He watched, intrigued, as the old man poured a set of what looked like small carved bones into his hand. What fortune-telling he had seen in the past usually made use of cards of some sort, or palmistry. He had not seen it done in bone before. He made a mental note to ask the man about the method later. While he wasn't sure whether or not he believed they could actually point towards the future, he did find the practice intriguing.

He frowned as the man asked him whether or not he had a question. He had come here on a whim, so he didn't have one prepared. But he had already paid five silver mizas to the man. He intended to take this seriously. That way, if the reading was false, the academic in him could honestly say that it had been through no mistake of his own. But what burning question did he have?

An image of the moon flashed unbidden into his mind, bright and full as it hung over the surface of the ocean. His heart ached at the thought, a tightness beginning to form in his throat. Satevis pushed the emotions back, but the point had been made.

Of course...

But what to ask? 'How do I get back?' was too narrow-minded in focus. Hadn't he already resolved to stay until he had fulfilled whatever higher purpose had brought him back to Mizahar?

He looked up at the old man. He had his question. Coming from any other person, it might have been a stupid question, but to Satevis, it carried weight.

"Why am I here?"

by **Anselm** on May 4th, 2012, 10:13 pm

The old man stared at him. This was not a question that he heard often. Furthermore, it carried a certain urgency as it found its way from the man's lips to the Nuit's ears, almost an angst. Anselm reached out with his left hand and placed two fingers lightly on the back of the man's right hand. There was something odd about the man's aura but he couldn't determine what it was. It was as though it was somehow multi-layered. Curious, he thought as he turned his right hand over and let the bones fall on to the table with a clatter. Then he stared at them for a full minute as he searched his memory for the oracle indicated by the bones. He had a few stand-by's in case he couldn't come up with the right one. But in this case, he eventually recalled the words that matched the throw of the bones.

Earth above, receptive. Fire below, luminous.
Illumination within receptivity, being illumined yet conforming to the times,
It is therefore called concealment of illumination.

He was still touching the man's hand to feel for slight changes in his aura as the words were spoken. He often detected such a change and took it as an indication that the particular point in the oracle that produced it had some special meaning to the person, whether they realized it consciously or not. Either that or it was indigestion. In any case, the last phrase, concealment of illumination, produced a small but distinct spike in the man's aura. Anselm withdrew his hand from the man's wrist and let his mind run through the secondary teachings associated with the oracle and settled on, Concealment of illumination in a basket is beneficial if correct. Unfortunately, Anselm did not know what this particular teaching might mean in this context. Or any context for that matter. He had never dwelt on it deeply. I shall have to spend some time in meditation on this teaching, he thought.

When he finally spoke, it was in Shiber. “You are a long way from home.”

OOC :

by **Satevis** on May 5th, 2012, 12:49 am

A shiver ran down Satevis's spine at the words 'concealment of illumination', and he almost pulled his hand away. There was no way the man could know that he was Ethaefal, unless he was a skilled Aurist, and that was actually a possibility. He kept his hand where it was, and did his best to conceal his emotions as he thought through what the man said. The words aptly described what he was--celestial being trapped in mortal form--but at the same time, he could apply them to other things. His magic for one--he usually kept that hidden until it was necessary--and his love of the arcane.

He stopped himself before his thoughts raced too far, calming down somewhat. He himself knew that the words of fortune tellers could often apply to whatever it was the listener wanted them to apply to. It was why they were intentionally vague. But the words 'concealment of illumination' seemed almost too apt for that. He would keep his mind open, he decided, and attempt to decipher the meaning of the oracle.

“You are a long way from home.”

Anselm might feel Satevis's surprise register as a spike in his aura as the Ethaefal looked up at him. Satevis smiled. He had been away from Yahebah for so long. It always surprised and pleased him when someone spoke to him in his native tongue.

"My friend," he replied in the same language. "You have no idea."

It spoke volumes about his personality that he could find the humor in Anselm's choice of words. But his amusement was laced with the sudden familiar ache in his chest as he thought about the truth of it. Home...He remembered the Ukalas, the joy he had felt in the company of his brothers and sisters. He sighed, his smile fading slightly at the memory.

"It's rare to find a foreigner that speaks our tongue," he said, changing the subject. Anselm might notice that he didn't use the slightly derogatory word rakva for foreigner, instead substituting the more polite form. Satevis hadn't called anyone rakva since a year after leaving Yahebah, so long ago. "It is a pleasant surprise."

by **Anselm** on May 6th, 2012, 1:31 am

A foreigner, thought Anselm. I suppose I have been a foreigner for four centuries. Not just among the Benshira, but among every race. I wonder if it has been worth it?

“I have always liked Yahebah,” he continued in his four hundred year old Shiber. “I was there a few years ago, although I was not able to stay as long as I would have liked.” In fact, he had washed up on shore in a storm that severely damaged his body, necessitating an emergency jump to his current body. He left as soon after that as he could lest he meet someone who had known the previous occupant of this body, always an awkward thing.

“I am Anselm, as you presumably gathered from the sign outside the tent. I did not catch your name. And why, if I may be so bold as to ask, do you think you are here? Something must have brought you to Zeltiva.

by **Satevis** on May 6th, 2012, 2:11 am

"The city has a way of growing on you," replied Satevis with a nod, still speaking in Shiber. The language flowed naturally from him, although it had been a long time since he had last used it. "I regret that I must have missed you while you were there. I've been away from Eyktol for so long." 508 AV. That had been the last time he had set foot in the Burning Lands. But even then, he had come as an outsider. Though the people who looked at him saw a Benshira, one of the sons of Malech, the truth of the matter was that he was not one of them anymore.

He smiled faintly as Anselm asked for his name and what he was doing there, wondering if he should tell the man the truth. He decided there was no harm in it. What he was was no secret. It was only natural caution that made him prefer to keep it private until it would be dishonest of him to do so. "Why I am in Zeltiva is an easy question to answer," he said. "I seek learning. I've always sought it. And Zeltiva is...special to me." It was the place of his rebirth. Although he wished he had never fallen, Zeltiva was still the first city he had visited as an Ethaefal, and the city in which he had first met one of his brothers.

"The first of your questions, though, is a little harder," he said, frowning slightly. "You should know the truth of your oracle. Although I take on this form, I haven't truly been Benshira for quite some time. I am called Satevis, son of Leth. If you know anything about the Ethaefal, then you would know why that question matters to me."

His frown deepened somewhat. "...I am not one to question the gods," he said. "I have returned to Mizahar for a reason. I can feel it, in the same way I felt Yahal's calling in my heart when he asked me to leave my homeland so many years ago. I don't know what my purpose here is, but it's all I can do to cling to the fact that I am where I am meant to be." He shook his head, his free hand tracing circles on the tabletop.

"I shouldn't burden you with my problems, friend," he said. "I'm afraid they are not ones easily solved."

by **Anselm** on May 6th, 2012, 5:21 pm

An Ethaefal, thought Anselm. That explains the oddity in his aura. Anselm had met Ethaefal before, of course, but that was before he had learned auristics. Now he knew what an Ethaefalan aura “felt” like. I shall have to remember that.

Anselm took hold of his cane, heaved himself to his feet, and walked slowly around the table and outside. “Come,” he waved Satevis to follow him. He walked over to a patch of grass and bent down. “Do you see this blade of grass?” he asked, pointing at a blade about four inches long. “And do you see this one?” He pointed to a second blade next to the first. “See how they are different from each other.” He said. He stood up. It was a cloudless day. The late afternoon breeze was flowing in from Matthew's Bay. He idly wondered what form Satevis would take as Syna retired for the night and Leth arose.

“I am a realist myself,” he continued. “I don't know much about gods and divine purpose and such. What I do know is that things are what they are. And wherever you go there you are. You are here in Zeltiva now. You are exactly who you are. Everyone you meet is exactly who he or she is. In the midst of all that 'reality', all that remains is for you to act. You are free to choose whatever actions you wish, and those actions will simply become part of the reality that exists here and now. The hard part is learning to see things are they really are.” He walked back to his tent. At the the entrance he turned to face Satevis.

“So, now that you are free to do whatever you want to do, what are you going to do? That is the answer to your question.”

OOC :

by **Satevis** on May 6th, 2012, 5:35 pm

OOCYou're welcome.

I'll take the last post, but you can go ahead and submit it for grading if you want. You've given Satevis something to consider, so thank you for that as well. Poor guy needs some sort of direction.

He obligingly followed the old man outside, frowning as he looked down at the blades of grass. Though they looked the same and resembled each other, it was true. If he looked hard enough, he could see that each one differed from the other. He listened to the man, thinking hard on the meaning of his words.

I am exactly who I am...

It was a curious thing to consider. It was one of those things that seemed so obvious, too obvious to have any deeper meaning. Of course he was who he was. But even as a Benshira child, Satevis had always had a habit of questioning the obvious. He still believed that he had a path set out for him, that he was meant to be here for something, but what was that thing? Perhaps it wasn't so important in the present, in the here and now.

Perhaps he was right where he was supposed to be. As himself, as the person that he was, what would he do? He didn't know. He couldn't predict the future. He supposed he would just continue his studies, and wait and see what would happen next. It wasn't as if he lacked for time. He did not feel the effects of age. He had all the time in the world.

"Thank you, friend," he said, giving Anselm a sincere smile. "You've given me a lot to think about. Av-berkaven."

by **Arcane** on May 9th, 2012, 6:43 am

Rewards and Treasure!

Anselm :

Satevis :

In Conclusion
A short but insightful thread

I liked how Anselm prods Satevis onwards to help him discover what he wants, and to help him unlock stuff he doesn't know within himself. Great job guys!