*---------------------------< In Character Time >--------------------------*
Time of day: Afternoon
Date on Aether: Thursday, April 19, 3930
Year on Earth: 1530 A.D.
Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent
Season: Early Spring
Weather: Breeze
Temperature: Cool
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South Bridge - Pons Pactum
Crossing the gap of the cliffs cut by the Mahpe River, Pons Pactum is an embodiment of what Parnassus was meant to be in its rebuilding: the bridge between two peoples. An engineering marvel, the bridge is built with golden yellow river stone and traverses the estuary at a modest height. Riverboats can pass below, but the more massive ocean-going vessels are kept to the east.A wide road cuts towards the center of the bridge, with the shops and homes of those from the merchants guild lining the way. A few eke their way out onto the bridge itself, but only the most successful merchants or tradesmen can afford the shops closest to the bazaar, leaving most others to set up stalls or tents. Low and solid rails twist along either side in a Shaped pattern of twined knots, pleasingly aesthetic but also protective of the unwary venturing close too the edge.
The southern end of Pons Pactum is firmly anchored in the earth as the road rises up the hill to reach Parnassus while an easily missed stairway on the eastern side leads down to the Navale. Stretching its welcoming arm northwards towards the bazaar and Irha-Esh beyond, the bridge is guarded by a squat stone tower that casts a watchful eye on traffic below.
Maat walks along the Bridge, her form a familiar sight to many of those who frequent the area. Despite the fact that her face and flesh is not easily visible, the Bridge token hanging from a chain from her neck distinguishes her.
It's true and likely that Circling Wind has seen the elder Varati off and on during the young Sylvan's trek to work, and same as other days, Circling Wind heads to The Crossing. It's quite possible that tonight will be a rehearsal night rather than performance, so the girl's pack is light, and for now, so is her step.
Maat appears also to be walking toward the Crossing. Perhaps even Varati have to eat. What ever the reason, her slow and deliberate steps move in the same direction as Circling Wind, though she pauses from time to time to have a look at a shop, her golden eyes moving unceasingly.
There's really no way to tell age or gender from the garments that envelop the Varati. However, the body language alone is enough for the Sylvan to pick up on, and though Circling Wind is still relatively naive to the ways of the city and that of other races, she is very observant of her surroundings. Stepping back, the dancer clears the way for the Varati to go ahead first. One part respect, one part wariness, as Circling Wind has already had a taste of Varati hotfoot, and does not wish to repeat such an event.
Great Room - The Crossing - Pons Pactum
One of the newer establishments on the Pons Pactum, the Crossing remains affordable, despite its luxurious decor. Walls are painted a creamy yellow, fading to a darker shade of maize as it nears the floor, while paintings are hung between the windows lining the walls. The artwork represents tastes from the four races which patronize this establishment. Daylight streams in through thick panes of glass in these windows, flooding the great room with the sun's warmth and light.A large, carved stone fireplace sits in the center of one wall. The tended fire provides warmth throughout the entire room, welcome especially during the winter months. Round, carved mahogany tables, circled by either long, backless settees, or armchairs, fill the great room, covering the space between the bar on the left of the hearth to the raised wooden stage on the opposite wall.
Directly behind the hearth is a stone staircase leading to the upper stories of the inn, where a well-to-do guest may find comfortable, albeit costly, lodging for the night. On the near side of the bar is the portico leading to the outside terrace.
Tepin comes inside from the bridge beyond.
After some moments, given the starting and stopping nature of Maat's passage, she enters into the Crossing. Once inside, she allows the wait staff to show her to a table near the stage, though her head turns, perhaps taking in whatever changes have occurred since the new Fortuna took ownership of the tavern. Words are not exchanged in terms of ordering sustenance.
The barkeep on duty waves and calls out to the Sylvan girl, noting how early she is. Circling Wind nods, glancing once more to the Varati whom she let go in ahead of her, before heading over to the bar. "I thought we had rehearsal today." Apparently she thought wrong. Screwing her mouth into a knot as she ponders what else to do, she's taken away soon enough from her thoughts as the keep hands over a tray to the Sylvan. "Short-staffed again?" Great. She'll be waitressing the rest of the night, at this rate. Well, so long as she's paid the same.
Maat puts her hands on the table, still continuing to peruse the room from her location. Her head tilts to the side as she looks at the supports for the stage, golden eyes bland and uninformative. So far, she shows no sign of impatience, though obviously this could change.
Heading over to Maat's table, Circling Wind sets out some chai and a glass of water both, before she looks into the Varati's eyes, trying to guess at gender. Female, she thinks, but... it'd be quite a slight if Tepin guessed wrong, wouldn't it? "Good afternoon." Pause. "What would you like to eat, today?" Pause. Omitting sir and madam seems to really make the polite offers seem lacking. Without realizing it, the Sylvan's brow knits as she realizes this fact, a woe to her as she typically looks angry when she does so, even if she hardly ever is.
Maat does not immediately answer the question. Instead, she gestures at the stage with one exposed hand. The gems and precious metal glitters as the hand moves up and down before one finger eventually points. "This stage. Does this mean that the Crossing intends to present entertainment?"
Following the gesture to glance up at the stage, then back up the arm of the person who points it, Circling Wind nods once, "Yes, madam." Thank the Great Mother for this woman having a nice womanly voice! "Though most performances are shown in evening time." Shooting a glance to the barkeep, Tepin inquires of him. Bah! He's not even looking. He's really no Tara. No wonder he gets a slow Thursday afternoon. Folding the empty tray under her arm, Tepin contemplates. This lady carries herself with import, which, admittedly, most Varati seem to. "If madam wishes, I am sure we could arrange something." Let's just hope a drummer or /someone/ is nearby. It'd be a sad thing to have to dance to quiet, though some dances are applicable.
Maat leans back in her chair, since she has no wings with which to prevent this comfortable position. "That would be very nice. I would like to see what sort of entertainment The Crossing has chosen to present to the public." Her voice is pitched high suggesting a natural soprano, but has a hint of lower tones mixed into a few of her words, hinting at age rather than youth.
Another nod is given, before the Sylvan steps away and strides towards the bar. There are a few words exchanged, the mongrel keep peering over at the Varati before paling a bit. The conversation seems to be heated, at least from the barkeep's side. Finally, Circling Wind takes up her pack from behind the bar and stalks off to one of the upstairs rooms to change.
Not having most of her dancing attire here, and those costumes that were here not readily appropriate, the Sylvan returns, looking much the same, save for a mantle of silk scarves and a headdress of thin, coin-shaped medallions. Also in such time, a young mongrel boy shuffles out with a sitar. He starts tuning the instrument while Circling Wind makes her way to the stage.
Maat crosses her feet at the ankles as she continues to lean back in her chair. The position of easy repose shows nothing to others except a lassitude that contains no impatience. Her hands are crossed over her abdomen, the gems still glittering from the light reflected from the windows and candles.
"Long ago, before the breech between twin worlds, there were two princesses, Standing Cliff and Tumbling River-Water. Though they were sisters, and both loved their parents, they did not live well with each other." As she speaks, Circling Wind portrays each character in her dance, Standing Cliff being lithe, solid, and sultry in her movements, while Tumbling Water's dance seemed more chaotic, swirled, and youthful. The mongrel boy does his best to keep up with the story, though he's not used to playing for a Sylvan-style dance.
Continuing her dance in a rhythmic stride, between character pieces, Circling Wind tells more of the story, "Standing Cliff was the eldest princess and often found herself having to catch all of Tumbling River-Water's upheavals, as the younger princess often sought out trouble." With a few jumps and twirls, Circling Wind crashes down upon the stage, blending the dances from younger sister to the older, mellow one.
Maat's body moves forward, so that she can lean on her table; the relaxed position disposed upon engagement of Maat's senses with the performance. Her index finger taps idly on the wood, keeping time with the rhythm of the dance.
Caught within the world of the dance, Circling Wind spins the tale further as she focuses more on the elder sister's dance. "Standing Cliff found she had enough of her younger sister's discord, and so she went to their wise father and king, the great Sachem Winding Oak." Here the dance lulls to a pause, in order to show Standing Cliff's respect and love of her father, "'Wise Sachem-father, I beseech you. What can be done with Tumbling River-Water? Her lack for order cannot be contained and sets our people in mockery before the world!' Never before had Winding Oak seen his eldest daughter so passionate that he contemplated her request at length." Here, Tepin begins the king's dance, regal and leading, yet firm and undeniably male.
The few other patrons of the Crossing on this slow afternoon are now also attending the dance. The soft murmur of voices which could not fill the echoing chamber now are silent, eyes following the movements of the Sylvan while mouths still. The Qadi of al'Samar shows no sign of approval, nor disapproval beyond her forward posture.
"What Standing Cliff did not know is that her younger sister had already come to their father, complaining of how her older sister did not understand and could not let go of her ways enough to enjoy what life has to offer. And with such knowledge at hand, Winding Oak spent much time and thought into how to see his daughters to live in harmony." The Winding Oak dance continues, slow and methodical, with praising arms lifted to the heavens, "He sought out the wisdom of his ancestors and that of the Great Mother," then turning to face the audience, Circling Wind presents a formal stance, "And in the morning, he called forth both daughters." Her two arms which had been crossed now open, each beckoning an invisible participant, in the story.
As the dance continues, the mostly empty Crossing begins to fill as passerby stop passing and choose to enter, for a brief snack and to fill their eyes with the presented entertainment. The few others on the staff are kept moving seating newcomers.
Meanwhile, at her seat near the stage, Maat appears oblivious to the influx of custom. Instead her attention remains solely on the dancer.
"'My daughters,' began the Great Sachem, 'For you I have a task to complete. You will need each other to fulfill my command.' The daughters both seemed shocked, for as their father had requested many things of them before, never had he given them orders with such a steadfast will. 'You will go to the Mountain's top and bring back to me the antler of the White Buck shaman who lives in the Mountain's cave.' Fear gripped the two princesses, for upon such mountain was great peril as such no women as they should see. For Winding Oak, his eyes showed his sorrow, for he knew that he might lose both his daughters, but he could not deny the vision sent to him by his ancestors. And so they went to the mountain." Circling Wind's dance changes from the courtly weaving to that of distressful stomping and something of a wailing dance, though she does not have time or voice to wail, as she's taken up the bard's role as well as the dancer's.
Like a disease, word some how spreads beyond the walls of the Crossing of a Sylvan dancer, or at least of free entertainment. A few faces can be seen peering through the windows, not having the gall to come inside and not purchase any food or drink. Those with the blunt to cadge a drink or an appetizer cause the wait staff and the, now harried bartender, more grief as they enter seeking seats.
The noise level of the audience, formerly almost silent, such that Tepin's actions echoed lonesomely through the room, now begins to fill the empty spaces between the plucking of the sitar and thump of the dancer's feet striking the wooden stage. With this distraction, Maat looks around, as if annoyed.
Changing the rhythm to a climatic measure, as Circling Wind's hands and feet move much like one in a climbing stance, the Sylvan dancer speaks on, "Standing Cliff and Tumbling River-Water found themselves upon the rocky side. They each bore cuts and scrapes their noble skin had never had to endure before, and soon they found they were dependent on each other, in climbing the rough terrain." Splayed hands arc through the air, as if to show the wounds and pain, "Tumbling River-Water would urge her older sister to continue on, and Standing Cliff found herself consoling her younger sister when fear was overwhelming." Now the dance of the sisters seem to combine in a touching swell of chaotic twirls caught into solid smooth steps, both of which had been slightly jarring on their own, now folding nicely into each other as a more complete and varied dance.
There are some murmurs from the audience, though no rude heckling erupts, as a few patrons are unable to resist making comments about the story or the dancer. Maat doesn't hiss, but her voice is stern as she commands her nearest neighbors to be quiet.
"Before they realized, the two sisters had made it to the top of the mountainside. Greeting them there was White Buck. He would not part with his antler, unless to trade for it. His price was to take one of the daughters as his bride. Though he had been handsome in youth, White Buck was now quite old, and his life as a hermit had not been kind to his appearance. Before, the two princesses would have pushed each other forward to avoid such a fate, but now, they were as they should be. Sisters, and both offered herself to take up the task of being the hermit's wife." White Buck's dance is slick and mysterious in Circling Wind's movements, providing a random jump to show the deer in the animal shaman. "The old shaman cackled with glee, taking both offers to have the daughters as his wives. Though they were distressed over the issue, neither daughter complained for it, asking only to take the antler back to their father."
"'Oh, but I cannot have you both go. How else will I know you will not stay in the valley below?' Since Standing Cliff was the better speaker and would be able to ease her father's spirit with the news, it was Tumbling River-Water who stayed with the hermit. However, upon hearing the news of his daughters' marriage arrangement with the shaman, the Sachem was greatly disturbed. He would not allow Standing Cliff to return to her sister and husband." A second wailing dance continues the story, showing the sadness of the family with being apart from each other. "However, Standing Cliff was wise and gifted her father insight. 'I will go be with White Buck and let Tumbling River-Water come to you in the Springtime, my father, and when Autumn arrives, I will return. We both offered ourselves, so it is only fair and right we both spend time with the hermit.' Winding Oak could only agree, for else he would never see his youngest daughter again. And so the arrangement continued, but either princess would not see each other, though out the years, and such weariness did not go unseen by the Great Mother." The dance carries tones of both princesses, before yet another wise and slow methodical dance appears.
Some of the patrons appear to be engrossed by the dance, their tables are empty of food and drink, but they do not pester the wait staff. Other patrons seems to find the slowness or complete lack of service to be unsatisfactory. A loud-voiced complaint arises between an Empyrean and the bartender over his lack of drink.
Maat returns to watching the dance, perhaps choosing to ignore the more obstreperous patrons. Once again, her thoughts are unknown as the impassive golden eyes follow Tepin's movements.
"Though the years went by, White Buck did not die, despite his age. The Great Mother saw the despair of her little children of the valley, and so she gifted Standing Cliff and Tumbling River-Water to be together, at last, the sisters formed as a beautiful waterfall upon this very river. This is a story of my people, to show that even the most different of sisters within a family can balance each other and give benefit to their family and honor our world." The combined dance returns, though it is a slow one, due to the wrapping up of the tale. "I thank you, patrons of The Crossing, for experiencing the tale of The Two Princesses with me, this day." A run of Tumbling River-Water slows down through the Standing Cliff dance, before Circling Wind kneels and bows her head, and the sitar player comes to an end of his melody.
There is loud applause from the many patrons which have filled the Crossing, perhaps not as full as an active evening, but most of the tables now have occupants. The few Staffers on board this afternoon are now sorely outnumbered.A few of the rowdier chaps shout out, "Bravo! Bravo!" Even Maat claps, if not as enthusiastically as some of the patrons, at least her hands are easily heard from the stage. One of her pieces of jewelry must have chimes, for they tinkle as her hands strike each other.
The audience is given a respectful nod, as Tepin never had seemed one accustomed to praise. For her people, dance isn't just entertainment, after all. Soon enough, she's off-stage and without the mantle and headdress, and back with a tray full of food as she makes her way about the various parts of the crowd, filling orders.
Maat rises from her table, the water and chai untouched. A few coins are
extracted from within her robes to placed on the table, rather than
negligently tossed down. Whatever she desired, it has been filled and the
woman of the Guild begins moving through the fuller crowd, making her way
to the door.
