Continued from here...
The Divinist looked back down to the book, satisfied with the glimpse of understanding she’d caught in the eyes of her apprentice before seeing the words her grandmother had written on her own existence. It was more of a journal than anything else, but the Konti knew that it contained reflections on the arcane and the reality of the times. On the next page, she began to read a sentence written in a floral script, the handwriting different from the rest on the page, and she felt the urge to read it aloud.
“You live in times much different than our ancestors. Take care of this land, for it is all you have until you can find another.”
Rohka scooted forward in her chair. She’d begun to feel restless and a question formed at the edges of her thoughts. “Lia, who wrote that?”
“My grandmother, I called her W’inia. She was part of the Grandmother’s circle, and then I left Mura soon after she passed on.” Rohka sympathized with this. She left the Lakeshore soon after her great grandmother died as well. “W’inia taught me most of what I know now. My mother was more of a seamstress and a painter, a bit of a healer too. She never quite grasped what it meant to need to know how to fight. Mother was a natural in her ways of getting along with friends and family, I don’t think she ever saw herself as someone who had to push to get her way. W’inia, though, she understood. She’d travelled, too. This was her journal, where she recorded her thoughts and the things she learned on her journey. Look,” she pointed to a drawing and flipped the book around so the sybil could take a peek.
It was an elaborate drawing of a stiletto blade, with an ornate hilt, covered in symbols and swirls. Beside it were notes that seemed to be scribbled quickly. It was almost illegible. Rohka squinted trying to read it and then gulped when she understood a bit.
“She was detailed,” whispered Roh, fascinated. “Muscles pull on tendons to move bones. Sever the muscles and tendons on the inside of the forearm, destroying their grip. Severing above the knee destroys mobility. This is useful when you intend to maim instead of kill.” Rohka continued to read the rest internally, seeing names and other little notes surrounding the drawing. She found another scribble that caught her eye. “To my daughters: defend your dignity, protect your hearts. The Gods know who you are, but not all of them know who you can become. You decide.”
Rohka looked back up, her face in a bit of a grimace. She stood up, taking another deep breath in and stretching her arms out, suddenly tired from the mere act of reading someone else’s words. Lelia gently closed the book and set it down on the low table between them. She too stood up.
A scaled hand reached to her side, pulling out a dagger that looked identical to the one in the drawing.
WC = 510
The Divinist looked back down to the book, satisfied with the glimpse of understanding she’d caught in the eyes of her apprentice before seeing the words her grandmother had written on her own existence. It was more of a journal than anything else, but the Konti knew that it contained reflections on the arcane and the reality of the times. On the next page, she began to read a sentence written in a floral script, the handwriting different from the rest on the page, and she felt the urge to read it aloud.
“You live in times much different than our ancestors. Take care of this land, for it is all you have until you can find another.”
Rohka scooted forward in her chair. She’d begun to feel restless and a question formed at the edges of her thoughts. “Lia, who wrote that?”
“My grandmother, I called her W’inia. She was part of the Grandmother’s circle, and then I left Mura soon after she passed on.” Rohka sympathized with this. She left the Lakeshore soon after her great grandmother died as well. “W’inia taught me most of what I know now. My mother was more of a seamstress and a painter, a bit of a healer too. She never quite grasped what it meant to need to know how to fight. Mother was a natural in her ways of getting along with friends and family, I don’t think she ever saw herself as someone who had to push to get her way. W’inia, though, she understood. She’d travelled, too. This was her journal, where she recorded her thoughts and the things she learned on her journey. Look,” she pointed to a drawing and flipped the book around so the sybil could take a peek.
It was an elaborate drawing of a stiletto blade, with an ornate hilt, covered in symbols and swirls. Beside it were notes that seemed to be scribbled quickly. It was almost illegible. Rohka squinted trying to read it and then gulped when she understood a bit.
“She was detailed,” whispered Roh, fascinated. “Muscles pull on tendons to move bones. Sever the muscles and tendons on the inside of the forearm, destroying their grip. Severing above the knee destroys mobility. This is useful when you intend to maim instead of kill.” Rohka continued to read the rest internally, seeing names and other little notes surrounding the drawing. She found another scribble that caught her eye. “To my daughters: defend your dignity, protect your hearts. The Gods know who you are, but not all of them know who you can become. You decide.”
Rohka looked back up, her face in a bit of a grimace. She stood up, taking another deep breath in and stretching her arms out, suddenly tired from the mere act of reading someone else’s words. Lelia gently closed the book and set it down on the low table between them. She too stood up.
A scaled hand reached to her side, pulling out a dagger that looked identical to the one in the drawing.
WC = 510
