Embracing the Inevitable [Trista, Closed]

[Cayenne]

TS: Spring 510 AV (DTBD: Trista)
Who: Closed. Trista, Please.

For the perpetually depressed, the suicidal, the morbid, and the curious, the island of Black Rock was an excellent place to visit. It didn't have the depth and breadth of libraries like those belonging to the illustrious University of Zeltiva, or the research facilities of Sahova. But what it had, it had in abundance: ghosts. The living were vastly outnumbered here, although that certainly didn't seem to bother any of them... well, not the natives, anyway. But what better way to learn history than from someone who had lived through it? Black Rock had its own way of recording history... from those who had lived it, on any side of it. Their accounts were recorded and stored away.

But for one newly-arrived Akvatari, Black Rock was one very strange place. As far as Black Rock went, the weather was pleasant - it was mild, and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. The air itself seemed wet with rain that had yet to fall. The island itself didn't smell like one would expect it to, considering how each of the buildings looked like mausoleums and crypts... rather, it smelled of the sea. When she had landed at the quays, she bypassed a few people working their fishing lines, some unloading a few boats... and certainly garnered a few stares.

Before her lay the island. The streets seemed to be made of white stones, while those of black and grey twisted and formed odd, intricate patterns. Arced bridges that looked like they were made of marble rose over the canals, and below them, a few cloaked figures moved long, elegant-looking gondolas through the dark water with what looked like flared poles. Those in the boats were varied - from ghosts, to people... The buildings that she could see from here seemed to be vastly similar from the outside, though some of them were larger than others. She could see people moving in and out of them. Businesses, perhaps? Judging by the small cards and wagons loaded with goods... it was a possibility. Rising high above these mausoleums she could see an enormous tower that seemed to reach into the sky, of spiraling black and white... though near the middle of the monolith appeared to be an enormous clock, displaying the time. There were plenty of ghosts, and it was almost disconcerting how the living apparently had no problem whatsoever with them.

Trista could see the occasional black-robed figure, wearing a mask of a jackal, each carrying what looked to be a shepherd's crook. "Excuse me," came a voice from behind her. A pair of little girls, their edges blurry and ethereal, were staring at her intently with delight and curiosity. "What's your name?" They were ghosts. One of them, a petite blonde, had spoken. "May I ask what you are?" she tilted her head, her long, spiky bangs almost covering her face, with large blue eyes peeking out at her. Beside her, a taller, slightly larger girl with dark brown braids was looking also looking up at the Akvatari, her freckle-covered face slightly solemn, despite the smile.

[Trista]

She was far enough west that Trista had grown used to the stares. Few people past Mizahar's eastern coast had ever seen one of her people, and she could accept that, in the same way that, say, she probably would have stared if she had ever met a Vantha, or a Dhani.

Black Rock's designer seemed to be happy without using any colors, and the artist in Trista took careful note of what had been done with black and white alone. The architecture was monotonously similar, save for the massive clock tower, but that very sameness, the black on white on black on white, produced its own hypnotic atmosphere.

She had flown closer to the ground in order to examine the buildings from that level, when she was interrupted by a voice behind her. She whirled around and found herself confronted by a pair of girls. A pair of ghostly girls, though except for the fact that they were out of focus, they seemed little different than any other girls she had met in her travels. Of course, one's personality didn't change simply because one had died, but it was a bit disconcerting nonetheless.

However, everyone else around here seemed to interact with ghosts as a matter of course, and so Trista did her best not to seem startled. "I'm Trista," she said quietly, pushing red hair away from her face. "And I'm Akvatari...as well as a stranger here." Her eyes glanced from the blonde girl who was talking to her companion. Something in the brunette's expression was familiar -- the emotions there were ones with which Trista herself was more than a little familiar.

The Akvatari gently lowered herself onto the ground, which allowed her to look at the girls without straining her neck looking down. "Might I ask your names as well?" She tilted her head to one side, almost shyly.

[Cayenne]

"An Akvatari," The blonde repeated thoughtfully, thinking, then brightening, beaming at her. "I've never seen one before," the girl admitted, but nudged the other girl. "Have you?" This earned her a slight nod, and the blonde looked shocked, though Trista could tell she was exaggerating to tease her phantasmal friend. "You never told me!" Her attention went back to Trista, then, as the girl with the long blonde hair pointed at herself. "I'm Abigail... but everyone calls me Abby, and this is Cora." Cora had lost her smile since Abby had asked her about seeing an Akvatari before, but she waved shyly to Trista nonetheless.

"Hi," Cora intoned, her voice almost strangely hollow casting its own echoes. It lacked the warmth of Abby's, but maybe it always had. "Welcome to Black Rock." The girl recovered some semblance of a smile. She clasped her hands in front of her, looking at the redhead, the pale fabric of her dress and blouse contrasting with her dark hair. "Did you fly here? Or swim?" She was clearly a puzzlement - did they have anything so exotic on Black Rock? The Akvatari were an interesting combination, and one could hardly blame these children for being curious about her.

Where her companion wore a dress, Abby wore fisherman's overalls over a coarse-looking shirt, her blonde hair in one long braid, though several strands had come loose from it. "Have you been here before?" the ghostling added her own questions. "Did you come to talk to Dira? Do you like Dira? Are you a Harbinger? Are you missing someone and wondering if they turned up here? Some people do that, you know," she bobbed her head several times. "And sometimes, they're lost themselves. Are you lost?" the ghost wanted to know. "Do you need to talk to someone about it?" Children. They liked to ask questions.

[Trista]

Trista first turned to Cora. "I swam for a while and then flew for a while -- so both, I guess." Then she looked back at Abby and let the wave of questions wash over her before she made any attempt to respond.

"No, I've never been here before. And I'm not looking for anyone...though I suppose you could say that I was lost. I've never met Dira, though I certainly respect her. And I'm afraid that I don't know what a Harbinger is, so I'd guess I wasn't one, though I'm not certain."

She wasn't sure that had covered all of the questions, though a part of her wondered if even Abby could remember all of the things that she had asked. Quite the talkative one this child was. It was a bit of a surprise to her; the Akvatari were a nation of introverts, and even the children were nowhere near as garrulous as Abby.

As she hovered there, a certain curiosity overtook her. "I don't know if it's polite to ask -- but how and why did you come here? I'm afraid I don't fully understand how things are done on Black Rock yet, so please be patient with me," she added with a small smile.

"And...have you talked to Dira?" The question of actually meeting the gods had always fascinated her, and since Avalis had visited her, her interest had only increased. Her bare shoulder showed a seer's lily, the mark that the goddess had given her in Mura. She imagined that Dira would be different from Avalis -- but in precisely what way was unclear to her.

[Cayenne]

The girls listened to this with interest. So even if her wings got wet, she could still fly? Interesting! They looked so delicate, almost like they would stick together if they got wet and touched. Abby peered at them intently, and reached out a hand to touch it. Cora grasped her other hand, then, and Abby let her arm fall, beaming in apology at Trista, and proceeded to tuck her hands into the pockets of her overalls. At the topic of the Harbingers, though, the blonde ghostling became very serious. "A Harbinger is someone very special many-marked by Dira," she told the Akvatari solemnly. "They say that the Harbingers search out those who have been outside of Dira's cycle for too long, and send them to Lhex. So you either are one, or you're not, but now you know what they are," she nodded her head.

Her question, though, about how they got there actually seemed to surprise both of them. How many times had they been asked that? Judging by the looks on their faces, not too many. "We're from Sylira," Cora offered finally. "We died. Not together, but apart..." Abby drew her finger across her own throat, possibly indicating what had happened to her as the brunette instinctively hugged herself. "We found each other coming here... In some ways," she paused, fiddling with the sleeve of her dress, "Black Rock draws ghosts like moths to the flame. Black Rock is a place of Sanctuary, so long as everyone abides by the rules. Harbingers and Omens tend to those that do not," she furtively indicated a black-cloaked figure that wore a jackal's mask and carried a shepherd's crook. "But we traveled here together. We found a boat with one of the Gondoliers, those are those guiding the long boats in the water," she pointed at the tip of a moving pole in one of the canals of the city. "I think by Zeltiva. I don't think the living see them outside of Black Rock," the ghost offered shyly. "The Gondolier steered us here."

"We have talked with Dira," Abby bobbed her head in affirmation. "You usually do if you're here a while, especially if you're dead." There had to be some perks to living such a wretched existence, after all. Perhaps being chummy with the goddess of death was one of them, because there certainly were a lot of ghosts here. The little girl was right - Black Rock really did seem to draw ghosts here. "You see that building over there?" she pointed to a tall building that rose high above the rest of the tomb-like buildings. It had a large clock face on it. "That's Dira's Spire. She's there, people say. Do you want a tour?" Abby offered brightly. "We know where just about everything is."

[Trista]

So the Harbingers were Dira's champions. An interesting task they had set before them, it seemed. A part of her wondered what it would be like to talk to one; after all, how did one go about finding the lost souls, and how could they be forced to return to the cycle?

The girls were so serious on the subject, however, that she did not give voice to her thoughts. It was a sad story that they told, and Trista had a feeling that there was more to it than they were telling. Why would two children choose not to return to Lhex? What tied them to this plane of existence? And how did coming to Black Rock help them along whatever journey they were traveling? There were answers under there, but she wondered whether trying to pry them out of children, however ethereal, would do more harm than good.

Her eyes followed Abby's arm to the tower. The clock struck her as a peculiarly well-developed gesture of irony -- death came for everyone, yes, but for the majority of the people in Black Rock, time had already run out...and yet they were still here, almost as if nothing had changed.

"A tour?" She had no idea whether the children meant a tour of Black Rock in general, or Dira's Spire in particular. A shiver came involuntarily at that last thought, followed by a low chuckle as she tried to think of what one would say in a conversation with the goddess of death. Though the children seemed no worse for the wear after having done it...

"All right." She smiled, though she still didn't know exactly what she was signing up for. But she wasn't likely to find any more willing guides than these two, and the impulsive -- and curious -- side of her won out this time.

[Cayenne]

"Uh huh," the blonde nodded cheerfully. "You fly, so we don't have to warn you about the canals. When the hour changes, the canals move. If you get stuck, then an Omen has to come and get you, if a Gondolier, that's those in the water," she pointed at some of the cloaked figures standing on the slim, streamlined boats that moved through the canals below, "can't. But don't worry," she added with what was meant to be an encouraging smile, "most don't die from it. This way, Trista," she set off at a trot, with Cora following along behind, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that the Akvatari was following along.

The streets were, it had to be admitted, rather gloomy. Unavoidable, perhaps, considering they were on a quiet, foggy island watched over by the Goddess of Death. The ancient-looking architecture with its clean, neat lines stood out from some settlements that were simply too busy trying to survive to worry about things like that, but Black Rock did not seem to share those worries, despite being surrounded by pirates on all sides and the savage Myrians waiting on the mainland to the west. Someone with a lot of time on their hands had been very busy designing, and building, this place. Each of the buildings that Trista could see were uniform in their outwards appearance - white and grey clean, marble-like structures that resembled mausoleums. They all seemed to be one storey. Each of them in this area had a small sign on the front, neatly engraved on a plaque on the wall, indicating what building it was. Perhaps that made sense, what with the shifting landmass - how else did you keep things separate? None of them had anything like grass, trees, or even window boxes of plants. Possibly, quite possibly, nothing grew here on an island of death. Through the streets were various people, living and dead - none seemed to be bothering the other, and in fact, many of those alive were talking to ghosts like it was a perfectly natural, everyday occurrence. As they walked, or in Trista's case, flew, Abby kept up a running commentary with far too many details for Trista to follow, but for snatches. Some place was the Apothecary, one place was the Shroud, another was the Tombstone something something...

They seemed to be making their way towards the tall Spire with the clock on its side, where Abby had spoke of the rumours of Dira's residence. But they didn't turn to go in there, even despite the ghosts crowding around it. "This," Cora told Trista quietly, "is the Administration Office. Jaleryn and Vesta are in charge of it, and it's where they run Black Rock, kind of unofficially. Dira is the one that's really in charge, but she's far too busy...and important... to tend to things like the wills and property titles... So Jaleryn looks after it." The door to the building were open - a little difficult for Trista to maneuver through, but she could get through it. Inside, it wasn't exactly bustling... but it was a little busy.

"This is where some of the Gondoliers hang out, too," Abby told their guest as they stood in the entryway, looking at the cloaked figures with the gloves. "The Omens sometimes stay around Dira's Spire," she added thoughtfully. "See the woman with the dark red hair at the desk?" No one had ever told the child that pointing was rude, apparently, because she was pointing at the woman who was engaged in a conversation with a raven-haired ghost. "That's Jaleryn. She's talking to Vesta... Vesta helps out, since she knows the island really well, too." Jaleryn seemed to be consulting an enormous, leather-bound tome while the ghost pointed at something on the page. "Vesta used to be in charge of the Chapel. She was a Priestess of Dira." Abby added helpfully.

[Trista]

Trista wondered at the kind of life that would lead "most don't die" to be an item of encouragement. Probably a life lived by someone who was already dead.

She couldn't help staring at the architecture. A part of her found it strangely attractive. Here, there were no conflicting colors, no busy ornaments in the architecture, no tangles of unruly living greenery. It was clean, stark, pure. Trista was strangely unsure whether it was the artist or the person inside her that felt so drawn to it.

Abby seemed to chatter on whether Trista said anything or not, which made her feel less guilty about her thoughts wandering. However, once they reached a place called the Administration Office, Cora spoke, and the change in tone was enough to snap her attention back to the matters at hand.

"Erm...what sort of things do they administer here?" Trista asked in a whisper. The name of the building conveyed little information to her, though the place was obviously important. She had a nagging curiosity about whatever book Jaleryn and Vesta were looking at, but it wasn't anywhere near strong enough for the Akvatari to consider interrupting.

She did, however, turn to the children and ask "Doesn't Dira receive her own? Or...I guess, why would a priestess stay on as a ghost? If it's none of my business, that's fine -- I just don't quite understand."

Her glance went back to the Gondoliers, cloaked and silent. Who were they? Who had they been? And why were they so unnervingly silent? However, unlike Abby, Trista elected to limit the number of questions she asked at one time. Two was plenty, at least for the moment. Especially if she didn't want the answers to rattle by her like a pack of Dire Wolves; asking Abby to divide her focus seemed like an invitation to, if not disaster, at least incoherence.

Maybe Cora would answer? Probably not, but Trista did wonder at the other girl's relative silence.

[Cayenne]

"Wills, property titles, records of births and deaths, which is actually kind of important, even though there's not a lot of the living here," Cora explained. "You see... sometimes the living come from off of the island to die here... and their deaths are recorded. And Black Rock draws Ghosts here - why, none of us know. Maybe because this is Dira's island, and it's an... odd... tribute, I guess you could call it... to pay the Dead Queen tribute since we joined her ranks." Cora folded her hands in front of her, smoothing at the blurred edges of her clothing. "Ghosts, you see... tend to stay back from Lhex for a reason. We cannot rest, go back to the cycle to be reborn... until we fulfill those reasons. But Dira's champions... her Harbingers and her Omens... have the ability to send Ghosts to Lhex... unfinished business and all. And for some Ghosts... they know they can't do what it is that's holding them back, and they know it... so rather than stay a ghost, they can move on." It was a big speech for the brunette, who hushed immediately after, as if she had realized all of what she had just said.

"But since a lot of ghosts end up here, Jaleryn keeps track of who died and when they died and when they arrived here... and when they move on, she records that too," Abby offered, clearly as shocked at Cora as the other girl was. Surprise, however, didn't still her tongue. Black Rock is where the lost ones go. Time moved on without us, but here, we are reminded that time keeps going... and we, too, have to keep going. "The Administration Office also serves as a... well... you could call it a counseling office, I guess?" the blonde wasn't too sure if that was the right word. "Kind of like a healer's, or a doctor's? Except they treat the mind and soul, not the body," she added. "Sometimes all it takes for some ghosts to move on is to reconcile themselves with their death, to get over the grief of dying. In Mizahar, a lot of people can die before they think they should because of the world we live in... where we just try to survive, maybe eke out a living. They never embrace the inevitable, which is that death comes to everyone, eventually, and when they hide from it, death will find them." There was something deliciously morbid, perhaps, about that statement. But it was clear that the ghostly child truly believed it.

"Vesta is a Priestess of Dira, but she serves in a different capacity now," the little blonde chatterbox continued. "She's dead too... and she can help those that die still carry on. Besides, Basia is her daughter, and I don't quite think---" Abby was about to keep going, but they seemed to have gotten Vesta's attention, then, and the ghost, with her sweeping, blurry edges of a robe came towards them, a smile on her slightly sharp face.

"Good day to you, Abby and Cora. What was that about Basia?" Vesta inquired pleasantly. "And welcome to Black Rock," she inclined her head to Trista before turning her gaze back to the girls, her eyes as dark as obsidian. That gaze was directed at Abby in particular, it seemed.

"I was just telling Trista, Trista, this is Vesta, Vesta, this is Trista," Abby made the introduction hastily, "that Basia is your daughter and also a Priestess, but she looks after the Chapel." There must have been something in those eyes that brought the girl down to a clear, concise turn of tongue, as opposed to monologuing (it really couldn't be called a dialogue, now, could it, when she was the only one speaking so much that no one could get a word in edgewise?) at a hundred knots an hour. "And she was wondering why you haven't moved on, since you're a Priestess of Dira," the girl finished almost lamely.

"I see," that Look on Vesta's face disappeared when she addressed Trista. "I still exist here because I have work that I can still do for my goddess. She has offered me another arrangement, as she does with those who are devoted to her... but I asked for this one so that I could continue my work. While my daughter is very skilled and knowledgeable in her own right, she has much left to learn that comes with the wisdom of age and time. So long as Dira has use of me, I will stay here." She was serene, clearly in her element. "Does this help to answer your question?"

[Trista]

If Vesta was now in her element, Trista was decidedly out of hers. She hadn't expected for the Priestess to enter the conversation; if she had, she would have been much more deferential in posing the question -- that is, if she had asked it at all.

But there wasn't any way to have that opportunity back, Trista gave a polite nod. "Yes, ma'am, that makes perfect sense. Thank you."

She waited for Vesta to add anything else, but she couldn't resist stealing a glance back at Cora. If, as it seemed, the girl was perfectly aware of what was necessary for a ghost to move on...then why wasn't she doing it? Was she simply trying to help her less self-aware compatriot, or was there some more personal reason? And, for that matter, why was she a ghost at all? It seemed that a child would have had precious little time to start any business that would have been left unfinished.

Perhaps, Trista thought dully, she might have a chance to find out these kinds of things on her own someday. The Akvatari were not like the Konti or the Jamoura, races that lived for hundreds and hundreds of years. In a century, probably less, she would be removed from this incarnation and sent back to the small office that Lhex called home, there to receive whatever fate next awaited her spirit. But if there was something left undone...well, maybe she'd come here and at least satisfy her curiosity.