Open Renewed

[Perplexity]

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53rd of Spring, 515 AV

Her arrival had been accompanied by no great fanfare. There was no wild celebration announcing the glory of her power for she felt no desire for such things. All the same, she had smiled up at the rising sun as its rays illuminated the white walls of the tower. She sat upon a nearby bench beneath the shade of a tree a dove seated comfortably in her lap. Gentle hands stroked the feathers of the white bird as the woman quietly observed those passing in and out of the tower. With her gaze came the light of the relief she offered for those who would receive it. Politicians stewing in their anger with the frustrations that seasons of hardship brought felt they should rethink the venomous letter they clutched in their hands.

The handful of those lost souls who sat on the benches or on the ground around the tower seeking guidance from the goddess, quietly felt an acknowledgement in their heart. How long had Zeltiva suffered? What had it suffered? A plague that decimated hundreds if not thousands in the city. The assault of mages made deranged by dangerous applications of their craft. A militant uprising that, while halted, took the lives of many. The ground shaking awakening of spires bringing flooding and death. So much loss. It saddened her and it was why she was there. Her mere presence invigorated those who wandered aimlessly, lost with no hope of life turning away from the dark path that it had taken.

Her eyes came to rest upon a father made haggard after the events of several seasons. She knew this man. He had prayed to her often begging for a light to be brought to the darkness he’d suffered. His son had been killed in the uprising that nearly overtook the city and still he grieved. Cupping the dove in both of her hands she gently nudged the bird in the man’s direction then folded her hands in her lap. She watched the man perk up at the arrival of the dove. Limply he reached out a hand trying to coax the bird to him. After a few moments the dove fluttered over to his hand. A small smile touched the man’s lips as he pet the dove carefully. With that, the woman’s eyes grew softer.

“ ‘scuse me?” Gentle eyes turned to came to rest upon a little boy. He was flanked by four more children each one staring at her intently with wide curious eyes. The boy had curly black hair, brown eyes and skin the color of the earth. He toed the ground almost bashfully. Behind them stood a white haired Konti woman. She nudged the boy forward with a polite clearing of her throat before smiling.

“Go ahead, Tommy, ask her politely.” Orphans, the woman realized. The white haired caretaker was likely their nursemaid. The realization filled her with note of sadness that only made it all the more clear that her arrival was appropriate. How many orphans had been created in the wake of the terrible events of late?

“Um, we…um…can you teach us how to do that?” She quirked her head slightly. She knew what the boy was asking but wanted him to come outright with the question.

“Do what?” Before he could answer a little girl next to him with wild brown hair hopped forward.

“Play with the doves!” Her eyes were bright hazel. She seemed a bundle of barely contained excitement. The woman laughed softly. Children had always been a fount of innocence that she never tired of. She gestured to the children to come closer.

“Okay, but you must be gentle.” The white haired woman ushered the children forward mouthing a silent thank you to which she received a nod.

“Now, don’t try to capture them. Let them come to you.”

So began the teaching of children and the hope that such simple joy brought. It was no grand display but that was not her way. All the same, those who were in need of comfort would find it there at Priskil’s Spire that day.

Participants, Please Read! :

I think we all know who the special visitor is. Now then, no Gnosis marks will be given during this thread. If you choose to interact with the goddess you likely won't even be aware of who she is unless you are marked by her. Those who visit the Spire on this day will find their hopes renewed and that which weighed down on them will seem less dark. I, and only I, will moderate the goddess.

For those curious, the white haired woman is Lily from the Farson Home.

[Pulren Marsh]

Long nights had become longer. While Pulren had a knack for putting on a good show of things; of clapping his fellows on their backs and doing his best to be the best he could be, the private Pulren rested in a dark place of solitude. While parties raged among the populace and those who he once called allies a mere season before, his own house was often quiet. Only the crackling of the hearth or the sounds of his own grief filled the room. Someone was dying there, in that cottage.

He had been training hard, pushing himself in every direction to push the blood soaked madness out of his mind and heart. There never seemed to be an end to it. Sunberth had changed the Wave Guard. Before that, his brush against Dira's doorstep and the insanity of the Maiden's Voyage had played their parts as well. He was a good swimmer but his soul strayed out in a great, dark expanse, lost almost to even his own sight. It would be very easy to turn into a complete and utter monster. The armpit of Sylira showed him that face: The face of Uncle. A splinter of Pulren that could kill without hesitation, that could torture and maim and swim in the inky darkness until nothing else was left.

Pulren would never allow himself to become such a thing. Doing so would fly in the face of everything he had been before the world took its turn to try to eat his heart out of his chest while it still beat. That left his little item that stayed with him in his boot. A straight razor, an item meant for shaving and self care, would be his instrument of self destruction. Long nights had passed with the blade in his hands, the edge pressed so gently against his exposed wrists. Fantasies of one last bloodbath to keep away the monster that dwelt inside Pulren Marsh. A weapon of steel forged to slay a true beast of darkness.

Fortunately those nights eventually gave way to dawn, light spilling in and painting the room a different and much more brilliant crimson. When Syna's kisses passed through the simple panes of his cottage, they would gleam across the edge of the razor, a gentle touch of warmth over the cooling skin as if to beg that it be closed for another day and urging the Guard to try, which he had every day so far. On this particular day, the light came in a fashion that simply could not be ignored. Her light was amplified by the illuminating walls of Priskil's dovecote, a warmth caressing the graying husk inside Pulren's heart, salt immediately streaming from his eyes as the pain bubbled and gurgled out, much like it would have from his wrists had it been tears' cousin.

In a state of sleepy shock, he left his house with no shoes, walking toward the great finger of illumination. Drawn as a moth to candlelight, he had no hope of ignoring it or retreating from it. Drawn as a drowning man to dry land, only hope could save him.

[Vazka]

52nd of Spring, 515 AV





NIGHTTIME is a beautiful thing, even in Zeltiva. In some corners of the city, one could hear raucous discord bubbling from a well lit building or two. Drinking, laughing, and all sorts of low-class merriment to be had spilled out from door and window, those engaged in such pursuits letting slip their cares until drink or fatigue took them to slumber in Nysel's embrace. In other, more refined locales, soft notes from a musician floats into the air, entertaining the wealthy and powerful before retiring to bed, leaving the artist to trudge home in the dark.

It is to these things that she listens when she passes overhead, air flowing smoothly over body and wing as she soars through the starlit sky. While her vision is understandably directed downwards, watching where she is going as she returns to her home, Vaska's thoughts are drawn elsewhere, for her home is more of a house than anything else. It is an abode whereby she can perch and nest, and cast off the trappings of the human world that their silly modesty forces upon her. But a home it is not. There is no family nor friends waiting for her return. Not even a Bondmate with whome she can relate, or to regale with tales of her adventures. Or any number of things they might ask of her to do with them.

Her flat was empty and cold as she alighted on the sil of a window; she left it unlocked for days like this. Spending it as an eagle meant she had no clothing, nor even any mizas; she had snacked during the day on what she could catch. The wood was gouged here and there where she used her beak and claws to carefully pry it open, and the sil wasn't in the best of condition either. Fluttering to the floor, the golden eagle vanished in a sparkling of light, replaced with a tall, well built woman. Brilliant gold eyes swept the room, and finding everything in order she closed and latched her window then flopped on her back on her bunk with a sigh.

53rd of Spring, 515 AV

Vazka had no clue when she had inevitably fallen asleep, but today it didn't matter. Something roused her well before the first of Syna's light touched the city. She lay there, eyes open and half covered by a sheet, perplexed at her sudden wakefulness. Sleep had abandoned her, the gossamer threads of dreams vanishing from her conscious memory far too quickly. Still, despite the sudden shortage of slumber her movements were no less graceful than on any normal day. She dressed in her simple clothing, ran a comb through her hair a few times to remove the worst of her bed-head, and headed out the door on foot.

Ever since the sudden disturbance of the doves at Priskil's Spire only a few days before, Vazka had found herself busier than she could remember. What time she had to herself on most days had been consumed, leaving her little in the way of opportunities for taking care of some of those pesky things humans required of her. Like buying new clothes to replace the last set that had worn out. As the first light of day illuminated the Spire, however, the brilliant radiance issuing forth gave her reason to pause. There was something different about it this morning, something worthy of investigation.

As she entered the immediate vicinity of the base of the Spire, what struck Vazka as most odd was the congregation of beings. There weren't any services being held that she could tell, not that the kelvic attended any with regularity. Nor was it a mad rush to try and get the doves delivering again. It was peaceful, and most curiously so; especially the children that were being shown how to properly handle the doves that chose to flutter to their tiny fingers.

Children. The sight of them brought no small amount of pain to her flighty heart. Vazka wasn't made for breeding, inasmuch as any other creature might be. But offspring was a possibility only a bondmate could truly offer her, either personally or by arrangement. Family was important to Zeltivans, and her parents had taught her that to have no family was only slightly better than disgracing the name. Sighing, she leaned against the trunk of a tree, sliding down to sit in the grass beside it. Looking up at the gleaming white tower, she offered up a prayer to whomever would listen. "Let Syna's golden light bring new Hope every morning."

[Perplexity]

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Pulren

The teaching of children was a simple thing. The quiet goddess took much joy in this. It reminded her of a simpler time. Her mind was drawn to an era much quieter, an era where she herself had been much happier. She was drawn out of her thoughts as the melancholy despair of a soul in need called to her. The weight that bore down upon this particular soul was a sad and desperate thing. She gently pat the head of a young girl before turning her attention to those passing in and out of the spire. With quiet steps she made her way over to a haggard looking young man. The pain was written on his face. His eyes looked desperately toward the spire and in him she saw the need for Hope.

“Um…” Looking down her eyes came to rest on the little boy who had first approached her. A knowing smile came to her lips as she extended a hand to the boy, Tommy.

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Tommy nodded rigorously. She took his hand and together they made their way over to Pulren.

“Your shoulders are heavy with weariness, sir. What troubles you?” Her voice was soft, possessing a soothing calm. Tommy stood a little closer to the gentle woman peering up at Pulren’s trodden visage with a slight furrow to his brow. Peace would be impossible to feel in the presence of the Spire that day. Renewed spirits were quietly granted. The burden of the world’s troubles were banished, those who prayed were simply invigorated with the strength they needed to push through them.

Vazka

Lily had been one of the Caretakers of the Farson Home for Orphans for years. The twice marked Healer of Rak’keli had been shown great kindness during her time in the city of Zeltiva. While life wasn’t always easy and there certainly were times where she wept for her inability to save the life of every child brought into the arms of the Home, she did what she could. The Farson Home had seen many new additions in the wake of the past few season’s events. The reality of it brought her great sadness. It was part of the reason why she had volunteered to journey to the Spire that day.

Nearly everyone who visited the monument to Priskil’s radiance was granted a sliver of peace upon arriving and leaving. The doves, a symbol of the goddess, often fluttered their way over to those in need of comfort. The fact that so many of them had refused to leave the Spire and were congregating around those gathered spoke volumes to the faithful Konti. The goddess must have seen the pain and despair burrowing itself deep into the heart of the people and like Laviku, moved to bring relief. While Lily hadn’t ever seen Priskil herself, the Konti could feel her. The Goddess of Hope was with them that day. The Healer’s attention was drawn to a young woman sitting against the trunk of a tree. She seemed pained. Naturally that called to the Konti. Lily smiled at Vazka making her way over. She was mindful to watch the children as she went.

“The beauty of the Spire is better appreciated in the company of others.” Lily tucked her hands into the pockets of her apron. She wore a simple blouse with trousers and cloth boots. Her appearance was anything but grand.

“Have you come to find hope?”

[Pulren Marsh]

Once within sight of the tower, the flames of confusion and strife began to lessen. Pain still reared its ugly head inside Pulren's chest, but it was no longer overwhelming, the cooling sensation o inner peace blowing through him like fair spring winds. Once in the actual courtyard, he could breathe again. His eyes welled up, blurring his vision as each breath was like a heavy sack of potatoes in his chest. He crouched down, his fingers touching the cool stones, tears threatening to overflow and burst, cascading down his face.

He was glad he hadn't opened his veins, but the pain was still splashing against his heart, the tide rising steadily. Looking up and standing, he saw a beautiful and serene woman approaching with a small boy. For the boy's sake, he tried to straighten up a little. Stand taller. Hold those tears in like they might kill you if they spilled.When he made eye contact with her, his soul stirred, the tears quietly making an egress over his cheeks. The explosion of emotion was stolen, replaced by a growing peace like Pulren had never felt.

Wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, he looked down and smiled at the boy before returning to the woman's eyes. He couldn't stop looking at her. It was as if his mother, sister, long lost lover and every other woman he was missing in his life was speaking to him. Looking down at the boy, he thought to himself on how best to answer briefly, not wanting to scare the lad. Choose your words carefully, for the boy's sake.

"I've done a lot of bad things to people, become someone that I don't recognize in the mirror. I only want to do good, protect people, save lives. The place I was in was a place of darkness and that darkness infected me. I don't want it. I would rather die than live in darkness."

[Perplexity]

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The goddess ran a hand over the Tommy’s head brushing a few strands out of the boy’s eyes. She looked over him to the group of children, their caretaker, and the woman who had arrived. A sad smile touched her face.

“Many of these children are newly arrived to the orphanage. Their mothers, fathers, whole families gone.” Her gaze passed to Pulren and in the young man she saw exactly the darkness he spoke of. That lead her to her next statement.

“Often times when people are mired in the darkness that surrounds their life, they forget that a light still shines within them.” She gestured to the spire.

“Take the Spire for a moment. What is it?” The question was mostly rhetorical. All around the doves of the Spire were either taking flight to deliver messages or were gathering around people. No pilgrim who visited the Spire that day went without attention. She continued shortly after posing her question.

“It is a building. It is nothing more than rock and stone. But what does it represent?” Priskil extended a hand. Immediately one of the doves fluttered over to her. She brought the bird close running her fingers gently over the feathers. Leaning down she took one of Tommy’s hands. The boy went wide-eyed as he accepted the bird gingerly. Small thumbs gently stroked white feathers. The goddess nudged the boy toward Pulren with a smile nodding to the burdened man.

“The Spire is a symbol. But symbols only hold power if you believe they do. So how do keep a hold of that power?” Tommy looked from the goddess to Pulren. She gave the boy a nod of encouragement. Tommy walked up to Pulren. The boy couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old.

“Here, Sir.” Tommy extended the dove to Pulren. The bird cooed softly fidgeting slightly in the boy’s gentle grasp. Priskil smiled.

“You keep it by believing that power exists within yourself.” As soon as the bird was taken, Tommy scurried back to Priskil’s side. She took the boy’s hand before returning her attention to Pulren.

“Hope can be found in the smallest of things. Darkness can be dispelled by the faintest of lights. Hold on to hope and somehow, even in the depths of the blackest evil, you will find your way.” There was nothing more to be said. The Lady of Hope, Light and Vigilance gave Pulren a quiet smile before turning making her way toward the Spire. Her words reached deeper than the mind. They held a strength to them that was undeniable, resonating with ancient wisdom. They reached for the heart but did not pierce it. The words wrapped around the heart and guarded it, made strong the armor that shielded the soul. As she walked, with hand firmly grasping the hand of the boy beside her, Syna's warmth wrapped around the woman. It remained uplifting and inviting as she approached several others who were either weeping silently or deep in prayer begging for assistance. Some of the children had begun to approach others offering them gifts of the doves.

Where would Pulren go from here? The road that lay ahead of him was indeed dark. Would he be consumed by that darkness or would he believe in his strength to overcome it? That was a path entirely in his hands.

Pulren+1 Trained White Messenger Dove

[Pulren Marsh]

Her words caressed his heart as if soft, gentle hands stroked the blood engorged muscle with each syllable and beat. She first brought his attention to the children. Their parents dead and gone. It immediately took the pain from Pulren's own heart and poured his sympathy out for them. Wasn't it selfish to take on the world's pain? Innocent hearts shouldn't be feeling these pains.

“Often times when people are mired in the darkness that surrounds their life, they forget that a light still shines within them.”

Pulren knew he was in the courtyard. He knew there were others around him. He also knew that the woman's words and love were inside of him. They made room in that darkness for the light that he also carried inside. His full attention was on her and her message. His eyes followed her hand as it pointed to the Spire, her words asking him what the Spire was. His eyes were on her hand. He saw as she seemed to move her hand in the direction of the doves and they were beckoned. They could not ignore her call, either. They were only birds, after all.

He watched as a dove flew to her hand, how she knelt to the young boy and passed the bird to him. Pulren felt completely suspended in a solution of bliss and peace. He didn't feel his own body, he felt like he was only a presence of observation. Watching as the child so graciously took the gift from her and then was coaxed to come to the Guardsman, Pulren knelt himself, also taking the dove in his own hands. He was amazed how calm it was. Was this just a bird? He stroked its head and caressed it as she spoke further, her words shining over his heart like spaces of sun on the sea on a cloudy day.

“You keep it by believing that power exists within yourself.”

He had held his heart in safety while in Sunberth. He had used an alias to protect himself and though he had the capacity to become the monster named Uncle, he also had the capacity to love. To protect. To stand vigilant against all monsters.

“Hope can be found in the smallest of things. Darkness can be dispelled by the faintest of lights. Hold on to hope and somehow, even in the depths of the blackest evil, you will find your way.”

In that moment, Pulren's heart was fully given as a gift to Priskil. Tears streamed from his eyes freely, snot began to drip from his nose. He was laughing. Laughing so hard and so freely, unlike any laughing that had passed through his body since being a child. He held the dove, looking on ash she walked away. The dove climbed its way up to his shoulder, cooing and observing. He had been given a precious gift. He would not forget it. The dove was welcomed as well.

[Ricky Maze]

Lately it seemed as though he preferred to spend more time here than anywhere else, the sense of peace he always felt upon visiting the Spire always somehow reassured him, that no matter how hard times seemed to get there was always something to look forward to. That hope always existed for those who held onto it, and to those that shared it with the rest of those in need. He hadn't expected the reminder that this place served to resound so strongly today though, while he'd taken to personally pay a visit to the spire the moment he realized its glow seemed brighter today. Somehow he felt a inner sense of peace resonate strongly, a feeling he remembered well the day he first awoken to meet an unexpected person.

A woman who by all means looked as normal as any other person at first who turned out to be the Goddess, only she had such a strong resemblance to this inner peace that resided deep within. He hadn't anticipated feeling this sort of calm again so early, yet it had been a welcome inclination that demanded he pay heed to the event. Thus when he found chance for a break from the daily chore at the docks he made his way up to the spire, and sure enough the fisherman found the answer he felt waiting for him there. Already a group had started to gather as the doves acted differently, serving as symbolical comforts of hope that rested with those in need. He'd approached the lot slowly as the moment felt both strong and yet fragile all at once, his eyes already caught on to the sight of a familiar young Wave Guard about.

Pulren had come here and he had met with the Goddess, and sure enough the same soft gentle eyes he remembered seeing upon his awakening were found as well. She definitely resembled what memory did exist unless that too had been part of the dream, yet the residing mark of Her gift made any means of denial hard to claim at the moment. She... Is she really 'ere? Really 'ere t' bring ease t' our city? His respect for her and all she stood for grew even further as he felt his inner spirit lighten, the feelings in his heart bright as the day as he tried to swallow hard, the reality of the moment an inspiration not so easily taken for someone such as him.

Grand feelings of love and respect aside he couldn't allow his faith to get the better of him, he wouldn't want to demand her attention when so many others would need her more than he did. While he desperately wanted to seek out answers with the gift of this Gnosis mark he'd been blessed with, he had rather basked in the glory of her presence and continue to watch her restore the light in people. Priskil. What Oi wouldn't give t' know more, understand more what yew want me t' do as a devout follower. Ye bring de light o' hope t' everyone just by bein' 'ere, just seein' ya now makes me feel a lot o' t'ings. Vigor, respect, love, and yet Oi can't help but wonder what made y' choose t' give me such a gift. He silently prayed in his effort to watch her and refrain from approach, he preferred to letting her tend to others before he would selfishly ask for any guidance or direction.