The Moonlight Serenade (Trista)

[Kamalia Timandre]

There was a certain forlornness in Trista’s soul, a deep melancholy remaining concealed behind a facade of gentle manners and pristine smiles. Whether it was true or not of all akvatari, Kamalia did not know. The serenity in her velvet songs mirrored a great deal of melancholy, much like how the konti's echoed with more placid emotions. But no matter how much she thought about it, she knew they would always remain vague. She was not exactly privy to those tales, and perhaps it was best to keep them that way.

All she could do in response to her request was to smile and to move closer to the inquisitive akvatari, putting her priceless harp aside to take Trista’s hand gently into her own.

“It would be much better for me to show you what my life is about, rather than settle for telling you about it,” she answered. Slowly, Kamalia rose from her seat and began to weave her hands together, closing her bright amethyst eyes from the world of stars, dreams and darkness. The waves that crashed and tussled by the nearby shore drowned out her senses and provided her with peace. When she opened them after a fleeting couple of ticks, a surge of cold began to radiate from her alabaster skin, and her arcane words entwined dazzlingly with the silver winds that slowly began to envelope around her. Gathering tiny particles of fresh sea water in the air, a sapphire glow began to arise in each of her palms, orbs which burst forth towards the sky once filled with force, scattering a shower of snowflakes that fell like stardust over them.

For a moment the entire pavilion shimmered with the workings of her magic, painting a pale, lucid glow on the backdrop of darkness. By the small display of her abilities, Kamalia hoped quietly for two things. One was to show Trista what creed her life had taken shape with, the other was to bless their evening with a happier mood. “This, Trista," she began as she kept her palms open to receive her own wondrous creation, her bright eyes embracing a child-like smile that glowed with unadulterated bliss.

“This is what my life is about.”

[Trista]

Trista watched in wonder at Kamalia's display. The Akvatari knew little of magic from a theoretical standpoint, and almost none from a practical one. Indeed, as far as she was aware, she had never met anyone with arcane powers not derived from gnosis.

The scintillating snowflakes fell lightly around her, vanishing as they touched her skin. She looked around at the glowing shower, and then at Kamalia, whose expression was nearly as luminous.

"Is this another gift of Avalis?" she asked softly. "It's beautiful." A pause, while Trista decided exactly which words to use. "You are a person who walks in beauty, Kamalia. It follows you, and you bring it to life."

She tugged at the strap of a small bag that rested on the Akvatari equivalent of her hip. It was a special design, completely watertight, that she used to carry her art supplies, as well as her few other traveling possessions. Her blue eyes glanced at Kamalia. "Would...would you be offended if I were to ask to draw a picture of it?" The beauty that the Konti had just shown her cried out to be captured with her pencil.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The gentle silver shower of snowflakes framed the scene with pristine crystals, softly vanishing as they touched their skin with cool caresses. Moonlight incandesced over the sprinkle of crystals and they shimmered like a cloud of miniscule stardust glimmering against the ebon velvet of the gods’ canvas.

Kamalia had only wanted to show the akvatari that she was a practitioner of the arcane arts, yet she had not assumed that the glamorous creature before her would know so little of her chosen craft. It seemed strange for a konti, somewhat, how some outsiders could not distinguish the difference between the arcane and the divine. Stranger still it was to hear a mere discipline of personal magic be compared to the exalted holy gifts of Mother Avalis. To the ears of a konti priestess, the akvatari’s words might be construed as blasphemy. Kamalia was no priestess, yet she herself would have been offended were it not for her love of arcane magic. The moment, however, was an epiphany for the konti reimancer as a disconcerting question took shape in her mind: what mattered to her more? Was it the Sight that was goddess-given or was it the power she had earned through hard work, excellent training and the piles of money lavished on spellbooks and components?

Kamalia did not know the answer yet. She was not sure if she wanted to find out, either.

“No, this is not a gift from the Mother,” Kamalia responded, her voice calm and she chose her words with greater care. “This is a dangerous individual gift called “Reimancy”, the power to manipulate the elements.” For a moment, the konti was tempted to describe further to the akvatari about her chosen sphere of arcane discipline, but she stilled her tongue, hoping to keep her out of harm’s way. She did not want to rouse interest, nor did she relish the idea of enumerating the dangers of possessing such fearsome power. She had never heard of a power-hungry akvatari before, but she opted for caution.

Kamalia could not help but beam coyly, casting her eyes downwards and raking the silver-white nimbus of hair upon her bosom when Trista told her that she walked in beauty. Her smile deepened into a young maiden’s simper when the akvatari asked the konti if she could draw a picture of it. Distant songs and poems painted the konti women as surreally pulchritudinous creatures, yet Kamalia herself did not often encounter someone who would mention this to her face.

For a moment the konti was at loss for words, and a silence stretched between them until it was too unbearable to be quiet. “I would not be offended, Trista, for as long as you are willing to share your art with me. I would love to see it. The night is beautiful and the city plunges still deep into a sea of dreams. Might I ask you to partake in midnight tea with me?”

[Trista]

Reimancy meant little to Trista; she had a healthy respect, even fear of the arcane in general, but could barely distinguish one discipline from another. She trusted that Kamalia would not hurt her, but she also was disinclined to ask any questions.

However, Trista certainly knew that Kamalia was both flattered and interested in her request to draw a picture, and she smiled and murmured a "thank you." Then she opened her bag, withdrawing a pencil, an eraser, and a sketchbook, which she opened to a blank page.

"I would love to join you for tea," she answered with a nod. The whole world seemed to be asleep save for the pair of women on the balustrade.

Trista brushed aside her hair, and then put her pencil to the paper. She began with a figure in the center of the drawing -- it was Kamalia, of course -- sketching the outlines with practiced ease. She drew the Konti woman with her hands outsretched, her hair tossed back in the breeze.

After that, she added in the details of the background -- the balustrade, the stars, the moon, even Kamalia's harp. She was only doing outlines right now -- going back and finishing each object would come later -- but the overall composition of the drawing was quickly taking shape.

Trista did not put herself in the drawing, choosing instead to leave the focus entirely on Kamalia. She added in the general outline of the display of light; since she was working in pencil, the effect of brightness would largely be done via the use of negative space, and so there was only so much she could do at this point in the drawing.

[Kamalia Timandre]

The moon bathed the white stone gazebo in gentle light. The lunar glow accentuated the konti maiden’s features and cast lacy silhouettes upon her alabaster skin. All the while Trista drew her, Kamalia seated herself on a bamboo mat where a complete Murite tea set was neatly prepared. The konti maiden wrapped her slender arms in a gossamer shawl as the air chilled, and began the refined art of steeping and brewing tea, rinsing and pouring hot water into the steeping vessel, then discarding the liquid.

It was an elaborate, sophisticated tea ceremony, one that required much grace and dexterity. The tea was heavily compressed, and it took some time before she could place the exact amount of white tea leaves into the Murite clay teapot. Her movements fluid and lithe, the young konti poured hot water again onto the leaves until the liquid nearly reached the mouth of the vessel, using the lid to wipe off the foams that formed on the water surface, “like Spring brushing the surface” in Kontinese Literature. She drained the vessel once again, and decanted fresh boiling silvery water for the third time as tea-making required the exactness of timing and temperature. The bamboo mat left creases of condensation as she raised the ceramic pot. Kamalia used a wooden tea ladle to gently pour simmering moonglow tea onto the small porcelain hand-painted cups.

As the hostess, Kamalia gently lifted the porcelain with cupped hands and offered it to Trista. “Please take some respite,” the konti politely said. At first steeping, the tea was pure and light, silver in color and quite assertive in its taste: slight bitterness balanced well with sweetness. As was proper, Kamalia gently closed her eyes and savored the aroma before taking a light sip from her porcelain cup. When she opened her eyes again, they caught sight of the stylized Seer’s Lily that entwined itself around Trista’s shoulders.

“You... you are a seer,” Kamalia observed, looking surprised. “It is rare for the Oracle Mother to impart the power of Divination to other races. It is a blessing and a curse, for one must have great resolve to bear the gift of Sight. Might I ask how you were marked?”

[Trista]

Trista would like to have asked some questions about the tea ceremony, but Kamalia seemed so engrossed in what she was doing that the Akvatari reined in her curiosity, instead focusing on the painting. She was working carefully so as not to trigger her artistic gift/curse, paying special attention to the blend of light and shadow at the edges of the shapes.

She was perhaps three-quarters of the way done, about ready to do some of the detail work on Kamalia's face and on the harp, when the tea was ready. "Thank you." Trista set her pencil down and accepted the cup with both hands. Following Kamalia's lead, Trista also took in the scent with closed eyes before drinking. The beverage was both silver and sharp, and Trista appreciated its dual nature.

As she opened her eyes, Kamalia's question touched her ears. It was a
query she hardly knew how to answer herself; the brief pause that followed was not one of reluctance, but of trying to think of what the appropriate answer actually was.

She looked away, over the balustrade and across the sleeping expanse of the isle. "In some ways, Konti chose me first," she said in a near-whisper. "I lived here for a year before, studying art. When I came back...I found that the vision water had changed me. What I can see is...as far beyond what I could see before as that was beyond blindness itself. I didn't understand it, didn't even know what was happening. But Avalis came to explain it to me, and at that time, she marked me." A small, almost wistful shrug. "Now I have both her sight and that of the island. Before, I couldn't open my eyes; now I can't close them."

Though she gave no exact description of the mechanics involved -- and the two kinds of sight operated in her in very different ways -- it was clear that the thought weighed heavily on Trista. Turning back to Kamalia and the tea, she asked, even more quietly, What do you see?"

[Kamalia Timandre]

“My Gift is sensing pure truth. I see the truth, and the truth is not everything that one would like to behold or hear,” the konti maiden said gently. “Even gods cannot bend it. I knew my mother lied when she told me Leth had once touched my hair. I knew my mother lied when she said that there was nothing to learn about the man who sired me. The konti are raised and taught to accept truth and fate, no matter how dismal they may be,” the seer said with certainty.

Her eyes shifted towards her porcelain cup. The warm tea beckoned to her. She picked it up again with cupped hands as it nestled fitly within her white palms. Kamalia drank in small sips, eyes closed, and the tea’s warm liquid somehow soothed the aching unease in her throat. She stared at Trista and nodded slowly, “The Silver Lake opens the eyes of the sightless—be our visions something we want to see or not. Some say Vision Water is made up of the tears of a god. Give it a few more years and your hair will also turn white,” Kamalia chuckled good-naturedly, and Trista would somehow sense that she was only speaking the truth. “With your newfound Sight, danger will also follow you. Be that as it may, know that Avalis watches over you. The seers here will welcome you as we understand your struggle.”

“How about you? What is your gift?” Kamalia asked, gently setting down the porcelain cup on the bamboo mat. She lifted a pitcher and poured silvery water into an opal bowl finished in alabaster white. The scrying bowl was set in a silver holder engraved with runes and scenes honoring the Goddess of Divination.

[Trista]

Perhaps it was this, Trista thought, this willingness to look truth in the eye regardless of the consequences, that was why she felt a certain degree of empathy with the Konti. What would it be like to be aware of every lie, every half-truth that a person was ever told? Half a smile flicked over her lips -- at the very least, one wouldn't be asking one's romantic interest if a particular dress made one look fat.

Trista took another sip of her tea before answering the question. "My gift is...twofold, and I still do not fully understand that portion of it that comes with my mark." The warnings that Avalis had given her regarding the rest of it still rang in her ears. "I can -- well, there are some things I have to do first -- but I can see what is happening in other places."

She did not lie -- it would, of course, do her no good -- but she didn't offer any more specifics until she had a better idea of how Kamalia would react. Some would shower her with jewels and name mountains after her because of her gift, Avalis had said, while others would cut her hands off and kill her...

The nervousness on her face would be difficult for Trista to hide. Her gifts still frightened her, and she didn't have the confidence in herself that would enable her to compensate for the overwhelming nature of her new power.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Kamalia did not require her inherent empathy to recognize that Trista was feeling anxious and uneasy. It was written all over her expression. The konti gave Trista a long measuring glance, realizing that the akvatari seer had come to fear her own powers. The Timandre knew the dangers of Sight: Mizahar was rife with greed and dark ambitions. It was not uncommon for covetous outsiders to take konti prisoners and employ their oracular gifts for self-serving purposes. Kamalia was fortunate to have been trained in reimancy, or she would not have survived a slaver band’s ambush back then when she sailed with her sisters to the mainland continent.

The konti tried to smile, carefully weighing her next words, “The Seer’s Lily grants us the magic to the divine the past. We borrow this precious power from the All-Seeing Mother herself. Avalis bestows this magic only to a chosen few for only those with strength of resolve and willpower can possess it without losing grip of their sanity. Divination is a perilous power,” she paused, observing Trista’s reaction, “but this means Avalis knows you have a strong soul and a formidable strength of mind. This means she trusts you. Be not afraid of it. You are our sister now,” she said gently yet firmly, staring into Trista’s eyes.

“Please allow me to show you how Divination is done,” the konti seer said before gently closing her eyes. She positioned her right hand above the scrying bowl filled with vision water, and her long supple fingers danced over it. In a voice that was ethereal and serene, Kamalia sang a prayer to Avalis and Trista would instinctively know that it was a plea to the Goddess of Divination for a vision. Kamalia chose a memory from her past, and brought it to the vision water. A gaseous silvery substance called res sprang from her palm and formed a liquid silver ob. The sphere of magic sank into the vision water and suddenly, the waters began to swirl and dance. Being a seer and a water reimancer, this was one of her talents as a diviner. The silver water magically levitated, and formed a seer’s lily, so much alike the Trista’s mark.



“Do you know of the Chavena? This is the cosmos of dreams, a colorful world between the divine realm of the Ukalas and the mundane world of Mizahar, where our dreams dance and all the memories of the world exist in. It is where our souls skim and glide in dreamful slumber,” Kamalia said, all her fingers gracefully moving as if weaving the vision from the fabrics of the past. The water shifted suddenly into a graceful web of geometric shapes, patterns and cords that drifted and rippled and undulated, immensely beautiful to behold. “The Chavena is made up of the chavi, which consists all the memories and experiences of every single person, collected into a spiraling weave of colorful energy. The chavi houses thoughts, fears, emotions and memories all entangled together in these intertwining strands. Each chavi is unique to a person and a seer must seek a person’s chavi to interpret it,” she said. She waved her hand over the bowl and the water swirled again to change shape. It shifted into the form of a familiar nondescript konti who was ageless, wearing a dress of gossamer and a seer’s lily tucked on her hair--the Mother of Divination in her mortal form. “What you see now is a recent memory.”

Kamalia’s fingers stilled, and the vision water immediately lost its shape and ceased to move, remaining motionless on the bowl. The spell was finished. The konti quietly whispered a thankful prayer to Avalis, before tipping the bowl, spilling the vision water onto the marble floor.

Kamalia rose and stepped towards the balustrade. She turned to face Trista and reached forward, as if offering the akvatari seer both her hands. “Come, I shall teach you how to open your eyes, and see.”

[Trista]

Sister.

The word struck Trista with so much force that it surprised her. She was so unused to anyone expressing solidarity with her. Something in her eyes softened.

She watched carefully, saying nothing, as Kamalia worked the scrying bowl. The woman whose image flickered in the water was of course familiar to her; it was the same form that Avalis had taken when Trista first was marked.

When at last the vision ended, Trista's gaze followed the now-empty water as it splashed onto the floor. Then she too reached out her hands, taking Kamalia's in her own.

"I am in readiness, and I am one who is listening." She spoke in Konti this time, a show of kinship as she waited to be instructed.