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"Growing the Hedge Maze"
Date: March 10, 1999  Courtyard - Delphic Citadel - Haven: Spirit-Whisperer and Many Shadows step from beneath the towering gate into the courtyard. Ice blue eyes roam about, a wolf watching the herd, waiting. Cynara's position changes slightly as she notes the arrival of the pail-carrying half-breed. Her lips fall to a thin line of disgust as she watches her madness displayed to all the little lambs who watch without notice. Accepting. Gold hair flares about her shoulders as her head spins to confront the one who dare name her in the midst of these people. Narrowing suspicious eyes at Daren, her voice comes out coolly. "You may be." She nods, "Who are you?" No pretense, no greeting, just a demand for information. Aine steps out in front of Adham. As if Celeste and Medea weren't enough of a problem on their own. Politely but firmly she asks, "May I be of some service to you, sir?" Medea, at least, is working to get Celeste out of here, and she'll be damned if someone ruins her event. Dire looks to Cynara as her name is called, as if possibly the name had some meaning, and he regards her for a second calmly. Then his gaze returns to Medea and her assistant. Two feet and some on cents taller than her or no, Celeste doesn't even spare a glance in the direction of the Varati; it's not a race matter, as she has been persuaded to listen to one in the past, simply the fact that this has nothing to do with him. Celeste only turns, and steps toward the Citadel... at which point, it begins to rain even harder, and there's a bit of thunder, as well. At least the tent doesn't seem like it's going to fall down, anymore. Kallista looks out upon the gathering, trembling as she wonders if she really wants to be here. So many people, and it doesn't seem very peaceful. Many Shadows strides into the courtyard beside the halfbreed escort. Her mouth is a straight line, lips pressed together. Bare feet are placed with exactness and toes curl from time to time as if making as little contact as possible with the pavement. She stops to look over the crowd of strangers. The middle-aged woman is nothing special to attract anyone's attention. Medea gives Aine a simple nod, just before stepping in. If she sees it, she does not know. But regardless, at least one trouble is perhaps leaving the celebration... and it can become a celebration once again. Medea and Celeste vanish into the tower. Spirit-Whisperer arrives from the streets of Haven, step-locked with the one he brings. He turns a slightly nervous glance in the direction of Many Shadows. Then his attention is turned outward to the crowd in the courtyard. He smiles broadly, clearly happy... or at least relieved. Adham smirks as Celeste walks off with Medea. He folds his arms over his chest, looking down at Aine, "Yes, you can. Perhaps you can answer a question for me." Of all things, his voice is surprisingly gentle and melodious for such a large Varati. Another of Cassandra's fingers snakes into the bucket of water for a tepid dipping, before withdrawing and rubbing on the side of her robes. Releasing a low hum -- unusually festive, likely for the occasion, steps wind their way around the attendants and decidedly in the direction of Aine. She stops a foot away from the young Atlantean, absently fiddling with the bucket's handle. Startlement flicker-flashes across her features abruptly, expressive eyes meandering to the Herald and the Empyrean woman he speaks with before quickly darting back. Gotcha. She speaks -- and to him, no less. Daren's grin becomes more pronounced, and he makes something of a half-bow, "Daren, of th' Heralds. Y'r name's known well enough among th'ranks, Lady, as is y'r face. Jus' didn't think I'd have a chance t'meet ye myself." He straightens up, a shrug adjusting his cloak in the blowing breeze, "So I couldn' pass up th'chance, now could I?" Dwarfed by the Varati, the Atlantean girl, Aine, draws herself up to her full height -- what little of it there is. "It would be an honor, sir. What is it that you need?" Adham chuckles softly, "What is your rank in this... institution, Atlantean." the Nayaka still speaks to Aine, looking mostly amused. Many Shadows looks toward her escort. Eyes narrow. "Long Bridge Woman asked help of me. She did not tell me would be..." Her hand lifts and strong fingers flick to indicate the scene, "Explain it would be... this." The face tightens and she steps back against the wall, eyes going to the gate as if considering leaving. Aine crosses her arms, lifting her chin to look up at Adham. Despite the craning of her neck, she does not step back, holding her ground. "I am Acolyte, twice." Shifting a bit wearily on her feet, Uneri takes note of Atlantean apparently involved in the proceedings. By now, each person in the courtyard has been scanned and possibly catalogued for future analysis. Cynara's head cants pointedly, her eyes holding chilled daggers at the ready for the Herald who addresses her. Her lips purse slightly as tension flashes quickly through her jaw. "And knowing who I am, you decided it best to approach me and announce my name to all gathered here as if I was your old friend, did you?" Stormy weather does not always rest in the clouds, it seems. "You could not choose a more... neutral greeting?" The tone is quiet, and yet demanding, with an obvious look about to indicate all those who could have overheard the indiscretion. Adham chuckles. "Then, Acolyte, perhaps you should not interfere with matters that are above you." He looks away from Aine, starting for the entrance to the Citadel proper, stepping around and past the Atlantean girl. Spirit-Whisperer's eyes scan the crowd. The Sachem and he apparently haven't been noticed yet, and something needs be done about it. Where's the one in charge...? What's her name again? At Many Shadows' words, the halfbreed frowns. Turning and speaking to her, he dips his head. "It is to be a festive occasion," he starts, forcing a slight smile. "Delphi shows its hospitality by inviting all who would witness it." His eyes flicker away. Someone in charge better notice us soon. Then, gesturing broadly, he says, "This way, if you will, Sachem." Aine's brows crease just slightly. She raises her voice. "I was given authority of this evening, Nayaka. If you need someone, you should ask who would know." She hurries around in front of him again. "That would be me. Delphi is not open to visitors without an escort." Stubborn. And Medea and Celeste left that way. Probably best to give them a bit of time... Adham narrows his eyes, looking down at Aine, "This does not concern this event." His voice still surprisingly soft, though there is an edge to it now, "You will remove yourself from my presence. You do not concern me." Daren half-turns, motioning with an open palm to the crowd. "This's open t'all, or so th' Citadel's decided to say. An' let's be honest, y'er known by reputation well outside th' Heralds." He turns back, "If y'er thinkin' y'er anonymous, I'd wager y'er well-mistaken." Black eyes hold good humor, "Better t'enjoy it, wouldn' y'say? Especially when the carriers o' news and information approach ye with goodwill." Another fiddle with the bucket's handle, and Cassandra is in motion again. This time, dragging footsteps meander towards Many Shadows with another emit of crackling hum between each movement. Near to the Sylvan and halfbreed, and yet giving a generous distance, she sweeps into a sketchy bow towards the Sachem. Medea emerges from the grand set of double doors leading into the citadel. Daren leans a bit closer, adding a few further words in a tone tending more towards confidence. Aine crosses her arms. "Nayaka, by your honor you should give me more respect." Her eyes flash. "I offer you assistance and you offer me insult." She turns her back on the man and stalks away. Someone else can deal with it. Kallista continues to stand out of the way, just watching for now. Perhaps leaving soon, she hasn't decided. But... all these people in such close quarters, and the canopy overhead... well, it just isn't as open as the Rialto. Maya emerges from the grand set of double doors leading into the citadel. Medea steps from the citadel, a warm smile on her lips. Without a word to any, she turns, making her way towards where Aine should be, or at least where she would have been if she were still there. A pause, a look, then she spies Aine departing from the armored Varati. Having no idea what is going on, she simply moves towards Aine. Adham could care less what the Atlantean thinks of him, or even considers honor. Adham smiles as Aine moves out of his way, not worth more thought. He continues on his way toward the entrance of the Citadel proper, and almost directly towards Medea. Maya's expression is dark as she steps out of the gates. Framed there by shadow for the moment, she takes the instant to compose herself before entering the gathered crowds. Many Shadows' sniff is loud enough to reach her companion's ears, though is not loud enough to carry to others. The nondescript Sylvan woman stands motionless, eyes studying the swirl and flow of such an illustrious menagerie. A faint brown smudge against the wall holds little to trap the eye or notice. A step sideways toward the gate is accompanied by a soft aside to Spirit-Whisperer. "I came to work. Here they seem busy with a celebration. Come get me a quieter day." Silver Claw steps from beneath the towering gate into the courtyard. Silver Claw tries to make himself unnoticeable as he enters, watching everything closely. Aine paces towards the center of the courtyard. There, she starts to compose herself, looking at no one. Not even Medea is noticed. Maya's eyes scan the crowd. She turns and spies Spirit-Whisperer and Many Shadows from her perch on the steps, and smiles. Descending into the crowd, she heads for the place she last saw them, weaving her way through and nodding politely to each. Syroth descends the steps of the seminary and joins you in the courtyard. Sapphire flame sparks within the branded healer's eyes, centering heatedly upon Daren. Her voice remains low, but the danger within it is unmistakable. "The reputation may reach farther than the Heralds, but even Khalid Atar could conceal himself in a crowd if he could keep his mouth shut long enough to not proclaim his presence to the enemy." A growl creeps into her voice, "Which you have just done for me, thank you very much." Inhaling deeply and giving an irritated shake of her head, she attempts to resume a casual observation of the festivities, shooting dark glances toward Daren occasionally. Wonderful. Spirit-Whisperer's smile broadens as he speaks to Many Shadows, his words gentle, "I'm sure things will quiet once we begin." His mind races. He's brought her here. Someone needs to take the next step. His eyes catch Aine in her central position in the courtyard. A slight, intense glance in that direction precedes another comment that he directs to the Sachem with another smile, "I think I see someone coming now." Cassandra stiffly straightens with another generous slosh of her water-filled bucket. Shifting between feet, pale eyes stray from Many Shadows to wander over those assembled, thin lips pursing in a determined countenance. Aine arrives. Just in time it seems. She is quick to pick out the unhappy expression on the Sachem's face. Bowing politely to the Sylvan woman, she greets her, "Sachem Many Shadows, thank you for coming." Dire smiles slightly, watching now between Medea and Cynara with interest at the frustrated woman but, still mostly watching Medea. The huge, armored Varati stops right before the entrance to the Citadel. A few guards go to bar his way. Adham seems unconcerned, he looks over their heads and into the Citadel, for a moment before looking down at one of the 'guards.' He chuckles, then speaks some words to himself mostly, then more to a guard. He turns, once more walking along the wall of the courtyard now, watching again. Silver Claw passes through the towering gates, moving out into the streets of Haven. Maya comes up hard on Aine's heels. She too, looks between the two Sylvans, and the Atlantean as well. Her eyes widen a bit, worried. Cynara fixes Daren with an unconcerned stare as she listens to his whisper, then leans in only slightly to reply in a quiet hiss. Kallista can no longer take the crowds, and quickly leaves. Kallista passes through the towering gates, moving out into the streets of Haven. Many Shadows' progress toward the gate is delayed by the arrival of a group and pausing to let them through. Before she can take the final steps, Maya faces her. The heavy weight of her regard rests on the Varati woman. "I doubt I would have come to work understanding these conditions would be present." She is blunt, but she has not left. Medea stops at about the center of the courtyard. Looking off towards Aine, she then looks down to the stone. A moment later, and she reaches a hand into her basket, still holding a variety of small objects. A piece of coral is held out, a rich color that defines the ocean's beauty. Smiling, she nods then, and places the basket and remaining pieces on the ground at her feet. Daren chuckles. Choose and pick, an' she's made her choice, "Then I'll leave y'to y'er comfortable anonymity, Lady, damaged tho' it may be." He reaches up and taps the center of his own forehead, then bows fully and turns to move away. His cloak swirls only a bit as he moves, the crowds impinging upon the art of Daren's motion. Oh, to be more dramatic. Maya ducks her head, apologetic. "I am very sorry, Sachem. We had hoped you would be happy to see the magic celebrated so... to see the doors open to all races for a time. Your choice is free, Many Shadows. But if you would remain, I think we can finish swiftly." She shoots Aine a concerned glance. This girl had better not let her down. "Sachem. Please. Would you allow me to... un-pave the way?" Aine looks up at the Sylvan woman hopefully. Finding a semi-quiet section of the courtyard wall, Adham leans back against it, folding his arms over his chest as he watches all the activity. There must be a reason for all of this, though what it is, remains to be seen. Adham rolls his head on his neck, relaxing completely. Hidenouri steps from beneath the towering gate into the courtyard. Syroth enters the double doors that lead into the seminary. Spirit-Whisperer sighs. He steps aside to allow the others to take over primary contact with the Ettowealonan dignitary. Unobtrusively taking a flanking position, he shoots Aine another tense look. His blue eyes then shift to Maya, and he dips his head to her. Concern is clear in his demeanor. Many Shadows folds her arms and looks toward Aine and Maya. Pragmatically, she says, "I am here. If I do this now, will save a trip later." She lets some of the displeasure in her expression fade away to neutrality. "I am known as Many Shadows. " She introduces herself, blocking out all but Maya and Aine from her attention. "What has been done so far?" Medea holds the piece of coral aloft, high enough that all those present can see its shape. Removed from a living coral, it holds not contrived shape, merely random directions that seem to hold no union. Not at all like a stone, smooth and simple, it has its own life within it. Yet even as it is observed, and held gently between hands, it shifts. Reshapes. A long sinuous form comes from what could be one arm. Then another. After mere moments, the piece of misshapen coral takes on the shape of a small figure. Cynara rolls her eyes at Daren's words, a shake of golden locks, turning her back to him as he steps away, muttering to herself. "... fools... nobody! ... quiet ... big mouths shut... announce... parades and whistles..." Her teeth clench as she turns to watch the accepted halfbreed loony. What is it about her and that bucket? Aine says, "I have searched the courtyard, Many Shadows." She offers her hand to the woman. "Over here is the best spot. Good soil underneath." Cassandra, ever with that trusty bucket in tow, wanders around the fringes of the occasion. Droplets of water flick over the rims to drizzle on her toes as her meandering pace is unbroken. This time, the languorous paces take her in the proximity of Cynara and the grasp on the bucket shifts, lifting it up to hold it almost protectively. Many Shadows nods. "I will help." Brusque but polite in intonation. The female walks toward the indicated area and surveys it visually. She turns to Aine. "Have them clear way, please. Indicate the edge of the area, and two paces back as where we will need to work." Karijou steps from beneath the towering gate into the courtyard. Aine nods and grins. "Easily, Many Shadows." But how will such a diminutive Atlantean get the attention of the crowd? Easily, it seems. Aine's eyes drift shut for a moment and when they open again, they bear a look of intense concentration. Beads of sweat start to form before the first stone moves, but when it does, it is dramatic. In the center of the area Aine indicated, a spire rises. Rounded and sloped, it pushes the gatherers away from itself and then begins to flow outwards. Stone flows like water. Dimpled in the middle now, a ring of stone spreads like the ripple in a pond in the wake of a raindrop. Further it spreads, receding from rich, packed earth beneath. Medea lowers her figure as it seems Aine is prepared now. She nods, smiling, then gathers her basket, with figure placed gently in it, and steps away. Daren blinks, and moves backwards as the leading edge of the stone ring bumps against his feet. The Herald's movements are abrupt, and he backs away from the expanding circle in hops and jumps until the movement stops. Well. One way to announce the beginning of things. Maya follows behind. She smiles as the ripple starts, her grin broadening as it grows and spreads and finally her brows rising in surprise. She looks to Medea and nods once in approval. The smirk that has dawned again upon the fair visage of Cynara's face. Cassandra seems to have wandered close to the unobserved lair the branded healer has secluded herself within. Oh good, a toy. Focusing her chilled attention upon the crazy halfbreed, she asks mockingly, "What is the bucket for domina?" The term is used in a condescending tone, "Carrying about the only bit of homeland you are entitled to own?" Ridicule burns brightly. Medea places the basket beside the tower itself. She smiles with pride, crossing her arms. After a moment, she begins to move towards Aine, to aid her if she should need. Karijou steps into the merrily furnished courtyard just in time to see the ring develop. His eyes widen, and then an amused grin spreads across his grey face. He looks to the crowd, to the Delphites, and the others, examining and watching, but most importantly, enjoying the spectacle. The middle-aged Sylvan woman's eyes trace along the markings on the stones which show the tracings of the planned maze path and the area of trees to be at the heart of the maze. She commits it to memory before Aine begins to work and the hardness of the stone turns to fluid. She moves to the center of the area. Eyes open wide, and a bit of stone pulls up from the earth to mound up and male a convenient place for the Sachem to drop her javelins and her staff. While not as strong as what Aine has done, it suffices to serve its purpose. Only what is needful is used. "Do you have particular seeds in mind, or do you wish to use what Grandmother has left buried here, dormant?" The clear words do not seem to be raised, yet are projected and heard. If sweat could run, it would be beading Aine now. Instead, she trembles like a leaf in a high wind. Hands still held high, she gestures, bringing one arm down as if to smooth. From every side of the circle, a thin path of stone extends, fulfilling the pattern months in planning and in memorization. The center, where the grove will grow, remains open, ringed by a path of stone. From it, a web-work extends. Back and forth, 'round and round. Every way growing simultaneously. In the end, the maze stands complete but for the plants that will grow within. She stops, gasping for breath, for the moment without speech. A moment's pause after Aine's completion, and then Daren's hands come together. Clap. Again. Clap. And finally in quick succession. The Herald applauds the Atlantean girl's effort, a smile on his face. Oh, this will be a nice tidbit for the tale-telling. Smiling in thankful amusement as things finally seem to be underway, he backs away from the designated area. Spirit-Whisperer's part in this has been played out, and he allows himself to relax a moment. There's still time for festivities and celebration, and now that the meat of the evening's events has begun, he can begin to enjoy himself. Cassandra cants her head in mute question toward the Empyrean whose shame is shrouded. Faint creases deepen against her pale forehead, and she explains to Cynara in her Very Patient Voice, "The water is to help growing." And a half-heartbeat later she titles the woman, "Oathbreaker." Shifting the bucket in her grasp, she abruptly breaks out into a applause as well, water dripping over her robes. Seeing the applause of the others, Uneri carefully joins in this custom of appreciation and claps. The quiet Nayaka, Adham, doesn't move, watching all of the proceedings as silently as a ghost. Dark blue eyes move over the proceedings, judging, watching, perhaps more. Karijou leans against a wall, watching the creation of the maze, his eyes held carefully upon the progression. Almost at the same time as the Herald, he claps. Not a loud clap, but a quick, respectful, and casual clap. Aine mops back her hair and stands straight. Her short tunic cannot hide that her knees still shake, but she lifts her chin and carefully answers Many Shadows, "Let what Grandmother put there grow, Many Shadows. But where there is not enough to conceal," she pulls a pouch from her side, "let these grow as well. This is to be a place of haven within Haven." Attention riveted on the show, many onlookers join in the applause. Medea does not pause until she stands behind Aine. Her hand touches to her back, a soft whisper spoken. A smile so broad it shames the applause with her pride. She then lowers her hand, letting it fall to her side before taking a step back. As her prideful smile calms, she looks on with some concern. Maya relaxes at last. Medea should know. She glances around and smiles. What a feat. Eyes turn to Many Shadows next, and the ground that will soon sprout life. Cynara ignores the applause that sweeps about the crowd; she could care less for this event, other than for the sheer enjoyment of watching all the hapless sheep at play. Grim irritation settles over her features at the title given to her by this walking impurity. Mocking ensues -- it must, there is no way around it, it just is. "You may want to tell the little voices in your head..." she lifts a hand to the sky in a gesture of the obvious, taking on the same very patient tone just used upon her, "That... it's raining." Condescension permeates her demeanor, culminating in yet another smirk. While nothing seems to be happening, the quiet Sachem's eyes study the area left for her to work. She slowly paces along the bare earth, studying it. Through the courtyard is the faintest hint of a vibration -- never enough to shake anything, but more felt in the bones. Pockets of earth 'pit' in small areas behind the Sachem as she prepares the area for the next process. Earth packed hard as rock trembles under her feet and cracks, softens and crumbles, fit for planting. As Many Shadows reaches Aine, her gaze meets her eyes somberly. They flick to a particular area and back to her again, eyebrow quirking. She says nothing, but circles the spot thrice before continuing on her way. A few hints of green can now be seen sprouting rapidly as each foot is lifted, leaving living footsteps behind her. Medea turns to watch the Sachem at work. Though perhaps not as visibly as she showed pride in her favored student, she does not hide her esteem for the work of Many Shadows. She murmurs something soft, heard only by those closest to her, but it does not require the words to understand her sentiment. Giving life is amazing... no matter what life it is you give. Hidenouri moves through the crowd slowly and quietly. She pauses when there is applause or when someone speaks, always observing intently. She makes her way to Karijou, nodding at him respectfully. After a few moments, Karijou notices Hidenouri's presence nearby and nods casually, eyes locked upon the growth taking place here. He watches not with fascination, as some do, but with respect and curiosity. Aine looks back over her shoulder. She smiles at her mentor and then watches Many Shadows. The first hint of a frown marks her brow and bright eyes purposefully mark one turning in the maze with curiosity. Tiny fingers lace together and as her wind returns, she starts to bounce a little in anticipation. All of this she could have done alone, but to see it finished. That will be the best part. "Oh," says Cassandra simply, the lyrical hum dying on her thin lips. She casts a baleful look over the bucket's contents and finally lowers the wooden vessel to stamp the ground. "They did not say anything about the rain, but they were rather adamant that you were not invited tonight," the halfbreed intones loftily, oceanic eyes wandering back over towards Many Shadows with open interest. A more subtle note of distraction twitches at the side of the angled cheek. While the crowds watch, Spirit-Whisperer moves several paces to the place where Maya observes. Coming up quietly behind the Varati woman's shoulder, he stops and murmurs quietly, "You've won for us quite a coup." The large part of his attention remains focused on Many Shadows. Now that the stone isn't moving, and there are instead things moving and growing, Daren moves forward somewhat to watch the eruption of green life. Curious and fascinated, his dark eyes watch as the growth emerges. Maya starts and looks over her shoulder at Spirit-Whisperer. She smiles. Her voice is low, not wishing to disturb the Sachem. She shakes her head, "Not a coup. A favor. A... plank in the bridge, if you will." She smiles openly at the Sylvan beside her. "It is only a start." Fingers work into the small sack of seeds. A few are extracted and dropped in a spot which seems to have been scraped too deep, and the dormant seeds are absent. Many Shadows kneels at the edge of the circle and plunges her hands into the earth up to the wrist. Perhaps not necessary to the magic, but necessary to the woman who seeks the comforting feel of the earth's touch just for its own sake. Green shoots rise one foot, two feet tall. Bases become woody and thicken to the size of a stout man's thigh. At the same time, lateral growth entwines and prickly evergreen needles densely cover the twigs. Soon the rounded, irregular hedge is complete, and shoulder-high to a man. Many Shadows pauses a moment to admire the lush growth, then with a sigh, forces parts of twigs to grow faster than other parts, and the hedge becomes solid, sides toward the walkways flattened and the top even in a mound about seven feet high. Around the verge is a carpet of tender grass dotted with white and pink trillium. Cynara locks her gaze upon Cassandra, a devious twist adorning her lips as she leans down quickly and retrieves the prized bucket. Water sloshes over the sides carelessly, wetting her feet as well as the halfbreed's. "Is that so?" she retorts with a cold lifting brow. "Well, I was quite certain they invited everyone to this little display of their great power." The note of 'their power' seems to drip with more sarcasm than the bucket can contain. "And I suppose they didn't tell you..." Her face becomes a model of sympathy for the former Avatarati, nodding in the likeness of a sad duty put upon her to be the one to impart such a hard truth, "They invited me purposefully, because they saw how ill-formed your little wings were and they wanted to see if I could heal them to the size of a pure Empyrean's." A vicious smile curves just the very corners of her lips as she raises the bucket a bit, "Perhaps this will help them grow?" She threatens in an innocent-sounding voice. Spirit-Whisperer sighs, fascination rooting him in place as he watches the remarkable growth. He smiles and absently murmurs to Maya a reply, "It's the start of something amazing. The seed of an oak." And that's about all the sobered halfbreed has the words for, so he stands in silence. Maya's smile spreads and she nods. "A great tree." She laughs silently, eyes turning to watch with a luminescent quality revealing her awe at the power and more than that. Power used with grace. Medea watches with open fascination at the growing hedge. She smiles, nodding with pleasure as a hand returns to Aine's shoulder. Soft words are exchange, though her gaze does not leave the Sachem's movements. Many Shadows rests a moment. Her lips seem to be moving in what, if anyone knows much about Sylvans, must be a prayer. Oddly enough, the last three words her lips form are '"Nokomis, forgive me." She rises, hands withdrawing from the earth, clean as when they plunged into the soil. She turns toward Aine and Maya. "The soil at the center will not support anything like our Great Oak." She meets Maya and Aine's eyes as if she expects them to fully know why, but remains silent. "I will do what I can." The small woman disappears along the tall hedge maze to emerge in the center, standing on the rock she raised there to hold her tools. She sees to rise higher still as if the stone rose more. She turns back to Aine. "You have people who can maintain and keep growth there despite season or conditions of the earth?" Aine fairly glows with pleasure at Medea's words. She nods in agreement, watching avidly, and for an instant wishing she could See as well. At the Sachem's words, she frowns slightly, "There are a few... But would it be better to do something different?" For an instant, she is uncertain. The Plan isn't perfect. But then the idea comes, "Maybe a pool would help? Water?" Hidenouri slips away quietly. Hidenouri passes through the towering gates, moving out into the streets of Haven. Cassandra's features twitch visibly, and she otherwise remains in stoic silence to watch the events culminating. Child-sized wings twitch in a nervous flutter before stiffly composing themselves once again. Finally, a glance away from the center of the action for a plain, almost serene regard upon Cynara. Many Shadows looks back at Aine with a hint of surprise at the suggestion. The head shakes once, yet with the surety that her negative decision is indisputable. Growth can be seen, already tall enough to spot over the hedge. Soon may be seen a dense, leafy canopy. White bark stippled with darker patches grows in a tall, slender cluster to one side. Narrow, pointed leaves droop from the tips of the birch trees' limbs. The trees symbolize ones used to make birch-bark canoes among some Sylvan tribes, a bit of comfort from home. A pace away is the rounded top of an oak tree, which grows taller into a dense canopy. While no giant, this one could easily be three hundred years old, the trunk wider than two of the largest Varati standing side by side. A slow, creeping smile comes to form on Medea's mouth. Her hand squeezes Aine's shoulder gently as she watches, amazed. A nod, then the smile is broad indeed. There is no pride in her eyes, merely a wonderment at seeing such a display. Even she, an Arch-Magus in her own right, skilled in shaping... this is something one sees only once in a lifetime, if one is lucky. Syroth descends the steps of the seminary and joins you in the courtyard. Maya adds her own spark to the ceremony, dispelling the growing shadows from the trees. In her hands grows the spark, tossed upwards like a joyful child releasing a ladybug. It dances dizzyingly upward overhead, and then flares. Fire tumbles and turns over itself in a benign display, casting a bright light over the whole maze. She watches it for a moment, light falling on her upturned features, lips curved in a serene smile. And then her dark gaze falls to the Sachem's work once more. Uneri watches the trees, a hint of a frown on her face as she concentrates. Her head tips upwards as she regards the height of those trees. Eyes closing against the brightness of the fire, she looks back down, and with a hint of weariness exits the courtyard. Uneri passes through the towering gates, moving out into the streets of Haven. A pointed evergreen rises tall and straight where the hardwoods do not overshadow and kill it. Shallow-rooted dogwoods lend their branches, lovely for their patterns when bare, covered with white flowers in spring, used to living comfortably next to pines, mature fully through their cycle of growth. In another section, a broad-limbed maple looks designed for climbing, with thick limbs that invite someone to lie along them. A small gap is left in the middle. One will have to enter to see what lies there. The Sachem steps down out of view. TempestTouch steps from beneath the towering gate into the courtyard. Linnet emerges from the grand set of double doors leading into the citadel. Aine steps to the front of the maze, her face plastered with a smile. She waits silently for the Sachem to emerge. Cynara's wicked stare at Cassandra remains bitter and fierce for a moment, the bucket poised to be thrown. Slowly, her brows twitch and then draw downward. Blue eyes widen considerably after only a moment, and her breath is caught in a harsh gasp. Blinking in surprise, she stares, agape at the smaller woman before her. Shock and loss cloud her features briefly before the mask of anger is quickly thrown over it. The last straw thrown upon the back of the camel, Cynara takes a few steps backwards and pauses, looking out over the crowds as if suddenly overcome with vast interest in the ongoings of the garden. Then, slowly, she begins to walk towards the gate, careful steps taken as she once again nears the presuming little crazy woman. Suddenly, the oh-so-clumsy branded Empyrean trips upon her feet and oh no! There goes the bucket! Directly toward her magical assailant. Water reaches out farther than the bucket as it flies directly toward Cassandra, the bucket, it seems has other intentions, heading in the direction of the unsuspecting Daren. Cynara falls forward in a flash of black toga and white feathers, a gasp escaping dramatically as she catches herself with her hands. Arriving belatedly to the festivities, what better a sight to see than one's teacher apparently making an unfriendly ass of herself in the courtyard of the institution which branded and evicted them both? TempestTouch doesn't get past the gate; she finds it hard to walk and gape at the same time. All around, sounds fade. The 'show' must be over, but the awe is just beginning. What would have normally taken months or years to groom and grow stands silent. Complete. The patter of rain impacts on the awnings overhead and the torches fizzle. Silence. For an instant. Broken completely by the clatter of a bucket and suddenly... life resumes at full speed. Hedge Maze: Linnet rushes into the courtyard, apparently having just remembered the event taking place there. With her loose hair and the creases on one side of her face, she appears to have just woken up. Trees. Maple and evergreen, towering birch. Daren stands in awe of the spectacle, beyond even applause or verbal acknowledgment of wonder. That is, until an errant bucket smacks full into the side of his head. With a tinny clatter, the bucket falls to the ground. Followed instantly by the Herald, crumpling to the ground as though pole-axed. Syroth stands bewildered for a moment, regarding the unbelievable events. He makes no move to aid any of the troubled parties. Instead, he glance moves suspiciously from person to person as if contemplating some inner judgment best left unspoken. Medea moves with Aine to the entrance of the maze. Her gaze travels up with each tree as they are grown, watching with a smile. Her attention is distracted by the sound of a bucket, then a body hitting the ground. A brow arches, and she is somewhat torn between moving towards the activity, and remaining here. Well, what a decision. It should take a few moments, at least, to decide. Silence is broken. Awe is broken. Aine simply cringes, afraid to turn around and see. But turn she does, slowly on one heel to see the scene. The water. The Herald. The Bucket. *groan* She wipes one hand over her face. Jana descends the steps of the seminary and joins you in the courtyard. Spirit-Whisperer shakes his head, beaming at the product of carefully directed earth-magic that now grows in a once barren section of Delphi's courtyard. He hardly notices the new clamor erupting from the clumsy Empyrean and her flying bucket of water. He steps forward with a smile and gently brushes a hand across a leafy hedge, causing only a slight ripple in the foliage. Simply amazing. After staring open-mouthed at the large trees for what seems like several minutes, Linnet turns to see Jana enter the courtyard. She throws a quick smile at her friend, yawning as she is still not entirely awake. Small wings stretch out from Cassandra's back as she takes the splash of water in startled disgruntlement. Water splashes against her white hair, speckling her features, her wings, dribbling down her robe. A burning glare, lacking in distraction affixes itself to the fallen Cynara until the thumping sound of the falling body. Certainly not a call of nature, pale eyes swivel towards the fallen Daren with an opening mouth, water dribbling onto her chin. Senses return after a dumbfounded moment, only to receive a second shock as the Sylvan healer takes in the sight of the maze. My, how things change in the time she's been away. With an effort of will, TempestTouch stops her mouth from catching flies, moving forward uncertainly; she's hovering between the urge to see to the injured Daren and the desire to be sure Cynara's nose hasn't flattened itself on the ground. Skyfire descends the steps of the seminary and joins you in the courtyard. Nope. He's not moving. Well, he's breathing, yes. Otherwise, Daren lies motionless on the damp ground, splatters of water making dark spots on his brown cloak, a slight bit of blood making a darker spot at his temple. Jana wanders out of the seminary at a slow pace, eyes locked in amazement on the sudden redecoration of the courtyard. Oops. She had forgotten about that. Catching sight of Linnet, she smiles back, lifting a hand to wave, then carefully maneuvers around to join her roommate. "How long has this been going on?" she asks. Cynara rises smoothly to her feet and offers a dramatic, "Oh, how awful! Are you all right?" for the crowd to Cassandra. "Must learn to be more careful in the future." She nods in apparent apology. Lowering her head, taking on the visage of one contrite and embarrassed, she conceals the smirk upon her lips from any who look by keeping her head down. Quickly, she begins to walk toward the gate, burying her hands in her face. Must not laugh aloud. Aine peeks through her fingers. With a sigh, she surveys the tableau. "Oh, by Pasiphae, would somebody see to the Herald?" Her voice rises with a plaintive note, hopefully to be heard by some Healer. Linnet attempts to control her frizzy loose hair whilst answering her friend's question. She bites her lower lip and shrugs. "I'm not sure," she whispers, grin sheepishly. "I, uh, overslept..." Medea sighs. Well, decision has been made, it seems. She moves with fluid grace through the crowd towards the Herald still resting on the ground. Concern does pique her expression as it seems he has not moved. Her stride is quick, long, wings spreading slightly to give her more width, forcing the crowd to allow her passage. A groan comes from the sprawled form of the Herald, followed by a few slow, pained movements. Eyelids shift, but don't open. "Unnh." With Cynara all in one piece, TempestTouch is freed to see to the downed Herald. A few quick strides and she's at his side, shoulders hunching to prevent bolts of lightning from striking her down at this presumption. Skyfire seems to have overslept too, for he steps out of the seminary, his eyes growing quite wide at the new sight. He looks about the crowd for faces he recognizes and finally makes his way to Linnet and Jana. Jana's attention turns towards Aine's voice, then looks about for supposed Herald. There's Cassandra... some departing Empyrean... There's the Herald! And BrightEyes? Jana's eyes widen in surprise, "I never thought I would see her here again." "Cheat?" Daren's weak voice is an almost whispered mutter, "Nae, I don' have any cards up m'sleeve..." Aine's eyes roll and she starts to chuckle. It's over. Thank goodness. She hides her grin behind one hand at the Herald's muttered comment. As the crowd parts enough to allow her passage, Medea reaches the fallen Herald swiftly. A look to TempestTouch, then to one knee she goes. She reaches a hand out to his head, a softly spoken word to TempestTouch, "Is he a friend of yours?" then another hand to his eyes. Cynara's feet are swift, nearing the gate. Freedom. Turning back to glance, as if concerned about the woman she has just doused and the Herald who will hopefully remember this lesson for their next public meeting, she catches sight of her student. Within feet of her escape, Cynara's feet slow. Inhaling deeply in what may seem an irritated manner, she does not stop. If she is caught as well as TempestTouch, who will rescue the Sylvan? Keep moving feet, and quickly. She heads out the gate. Maya turns slowly. She frowns. The Sachem still has not emerged. Finally, she disappears into the maze as well, ember robes quickly quenched in the cool shadows cast there. Endymion soars in from the skies above. A few quick steps backs TempestTouch away from Medea. "No. Never seen him b--" Her words come rapid-fire as she continues to shy off. "I'll just, um... let you... and him... I go now. Chookma." The initial concept of peeking in on the ceremony rapidly degenerating into something deemed a Bad Idea. There are 'real' healers here. Jana's attention is so settled on the drama between the Branded Ones, the Herald, and the Magi that she doesn't notice Skyfire's approach until he's come to a stop. She blinks and turns her head quickly, a little startled, then gives the Sylvan man a smile. "Oh, Chookma, Skyfire." Daren's voice seems to be gaining strength, for all that his tone has a dreamlike quality to it, "Oh... y'mean... tha' sleeve?" As cool hands are laid to his head, though, he starts -- eyes opening wide and dark, his body moving with a jerk. A moment's pause, then a low groan. "Uhhhhhh.. Wha' happen'd...?" Once out the gate, out from under the inhibiting tent that would render her flightless in order to get away quickly, Cynara hovers just outside, watching from her place of freedom, a careful eye remaining protectively upon the branded Sylvan. With a squishing sound of sandals, Cassandra trudges out of the vicinity with a proud angle to her spine, webbed hands folded carefully at her waist. Steps carry her directly towards the white tower. Linnet has a reaction similar to Jana's. Her eyes had been focused on the branded healer, but upon hearing Jana's greeting to Skyfire and realizing the Sylvan himself was standing right next to her, she jumps and whispers a quick, "Chookma, Skyfire." Endymion's landing in the Citadel's courtyard is unsteady, all things considered, and, drawing himself up, he espies Cassandra and tries to shuffle after her. "Donima? Um... Tiberius'... lady?" Now Tempest, now, while they are distracted. Cynara urges silently from just outside, brows furrowed in frustration. Aine sighs quietly as people start to fade. She smiles, a bit bemused and looks over her shoulder at the maze before heading towards the other students with a fatigue-heavy step. She greets them all with a grin and a tired nod. Skyfire smiles a bit and leans towards the two younger ones, asking softly, "When did they do this?" Not that he's against it at all... makes the Courtyard look better. It had too much stone before. Medea looks up at TempestTouch, to thank her clearly. A pause, then a mouthed word that goes no further than her lips. She closes her eyes, then looks back down as if she did not even see TempestTouch. Soft-spoken words, "Thank you for your concern," are all that come from her before she speaks more clearly, "It is no more than a slight cut." And as a hand slides down under the Herald's head, the cut heals easily. "That will teach you to play with buckets." Eyes twinkle and the Atlantean brushes back an unruly lock of hair from her face. Aine's tone is exaggeratedly casual, "Oh. Just now." Attention never having left the new growth and tangle of vegetation, Spirit-Whisperer circles over toward the entrance of the maze. Wanting to soak in every detail of this new 'jungle' in the courtyard, he steps inside, head swinging back and forth, swallowing whole the image of every leaf. Syroth nods to Aine as she passes. His face shows no obvious reaction to the display he just witnessed. What opinions he has, he keeps silent. He notices Skyfire and walks over as well. Jana grins as she turns to look at Aine. "'Tis very nice, Aine. I am sorry I missed the ceremony, though. Ah... but I do wonder. There is supposed to be a representation of every magic, yes? What was chosen for clairvoyance, if anything?" Aine answers easily, "For now, it's a mirror." TempestTouch, melting as fast as she can into the milling crowd of festival-goers, catches only the start of Medea's thanks. In automatic reflex, a smile twitches up, until she recalls who it was who spoke, whereupon it vanishes just as quickly. Elbows are outspread to try to keep the crowd at something of a distance as she worms her way to the gate, there to pop free. A shudder ripples over her body. Daren mutters, "Buckets don' play cards." Still, lucidity returns quickly at the Healing touch, and Daren blinks his eyes quickly, trying to clear his head, before pushing himself to a sitting position. He wobbles there for a moment, balance obviously uncertain. "Oh. Tha's a fine how d'you do." The stormy sea of pale green eyes tilt upward as Endymion's greeting is heard, feet squishing noisily as Cassandra turns herself in that direction. Despite the tent's overhanging, she is... sopping wet -- water trickling from her face and robes, dripping over the child-sized wings. "Dominus?" she questions the Empyrean man in a low voice of question, narrow brows arching out of place. All in all, a rather serene look, if not a bit tight around the edges. Linnet clears her throat and speaks in a very quiet voice, "Aine, what is there for the healers?" Aine turns to Linnet, "There's a spot for an herb garden." She ducks her head, "But I didn't want to bother the Sachem with it just yet." Endymion's pause to catch his breath is, as with his landing, not entirely steady, and, with a deep breath inhaled and an inflammable breath exhaled, he repeats to Cassandra, "DOMINA, I was calling t'...oh. Ahem. Oh." He straightens himself and paces forward a few steps, bows inelegantly, and queries, "You are Dominus Tiberius' personus. Right? Yes? His lady, that is?" Cynara awaits TempestTouch, watching her progress through the crowds with a satisfied touch of a smile. The shadow of the Citadel weighs heavy upon her and she will be happy to be free of it as quickly as possible. Medea laughs softly, helping Daren to his feet, "Come on. Up you get. You really should watch out for those flying buckets. They are liable to do a lot more damage than the little scrape you received now." Her smile is bright, warm, yet not once does she look to the gates, or those who flee the courtyard. Cynara passes through the towering gates, moving out into the streets of Haven. Syroth softly notes to no one in particular, "And what is the purpose of..." he gestures toward the results of the mage-craft, "all this? Does it have some meaning which I fail to grasp? Some significance?" He seems unusually terse. Normally he would be very intrigued. TempestTouch passes through the towering gates, moving out into the streets of Haven. Skyfire looks to the maze and those that entered it. But at the mention of the herb garden, he turns to regard the young Atlantean woman. "What do you mean, represent the healers?" He looks over to his roommate, Syroth, and isn't too sure he likes his dismissal of the wonderful hedge-maze. Aine blushes and grins. She turns and invites Syroth to join the small circle of students. "It's got a lot of meanings. It was my idea..." Jana leans forward a little to peer at the drunken arrival, and an eyebrow arches up in recognition. "Hrmmm..." Then her gaze swivels to take in Syroth. Recognition fails to ignite. Short white lashes narrow over the disturbed gaze, the halfbreed Cassandra suspiciously studying Endymion for long lengths of silence. She perches up on her heels, inspecting his hands with a sharp eye, before squishing back down to her heels. Nostrils flare in the deep breath she inhales, also causing her to liquidy inhale some of the water that dampens her visage. Finally, a slight, almost imperceptible nod is given. Daren mutters to himself as Medea helps him to his feet, "Thank ye, Domina." Yes, Daren's coming back to himself. His gaze catches the bucket, slightly dented, resting on the ground. Daren glances around him, seeing no obvious bucket-flingers, but missing the visage of a sharp-tongued Empyrean. Eh. "Y'ought t' put out nets, or traps," he replies to Medea, turning back to face her, "If that breed o'bucket is such a danger here 'bouts. In any case, I'll 'ave t'be more careful when I come back f'r lessons." Syroth moves closer towards the others, yet it is all too obvious he remains solitary. His normal curiosity is absent and there are dark-brown rings round his over-bright eyes. Linnet thinks of her hours of study memorizing herbs, her careful drawings of funny-looking plants with strange names, learning their uses... She speaks again to Aine, still using a quiet, humble voice, "Will other healers be allowed to work on the garden?" Aine lectures, whether anyone listens or not, rattling off things amicably. She could speak to the air for all she seems to care. "It's supposed to be a place where people can come and understand that magic isn't all bad. And it's a refuge as well. For Sylvans, and for anyone that just wants a little peace. Each turning is patterned on old signs that mean 'Earth' and 'Unity.' The center is a grove. Each corner will eventually have something for each magic. Shaping, and Healing, Clairvoyance and Shapeshifting, all the Elemental magics and even something for Telepathy. Since so many of 'em don't really make stuff, a lot of it is symbolic. Or I plan it to be." She takes on a little touch of plaintiveness, "I could use help.." From the muddied glaze in Endymion's regard, he is having a few issues seeing Cassandra clearly, but from beneath his robe he withdraws an understandably sodden scroll and presents it. "At your leisure, will you present this to Tiberius, please? Please?" Medea releases Daren, then remarks quietly, "Perhaps you need a master. I do not think I quite got everything." That said, she simply turns about and walks back through the crowd towards Aine, or where she last left her. Her eyes look upwards in some frustration, before she starts to laugh softly to herself. Aine nods at last to Linnet. "Of course. That's the whole point.." Skyfire listens to the lecture, his eyes darting between the lecturer and the maze. "What sort of help do you need?" If it's growing things, he can definitely do that... it's stopping that's the problem. Aine rubs her hands on her tunic, "Well. Ideas for one. I've only got two magics. I don't know what's best for the rest." Syroth considers, offhandedly, "Let a pool of pure water come forth in the midst of the grove. It shall stand for water and telepathy since they are one in the same. Water, the depths of the soul of the world, which is also the thoughts and mind of every living thing. Or so I feel..." His tone of voice denotes no obvious preference one way or the other. Cassandra takes an unconscious step backward from Endymion, pale, webbed hand rising to trace at the side of her neck. The scroll that is offered is stared at with that same suspicious look, though it softens into mild wonder, gaze lifting up towards the man again. "Present this..." she echoes the words dimly, white brows drawing into a single line in the furrowing of her forehead. The hand that reaches out to take the scroll moves weightedly, slow motion fingers coiling around the offered object. Linnet nods to Aine. "Oh... yes, of course." She pauses, thinking of the right words to say. "Perhaps I can grow some nice herbs, then..." Skyfire looks between Linnet and Aine, "A garden could also be for the earth-elementalists." His mouth still pronounces the title a little too specifically. Medea stops just behind Aine. Her last words are overheard, yet she does not respond. A look about the courtyard, at those remaining, and she stops, dead. Spying the man talking to Cassandra, she swallows. Her hand touches to Aine's shoulder, and she leans in to whisper something quietly. Jana continues to study Syroth, and eventually her brows furrow together. Remaining silent, she averts her gaze down to the ground and nudges a rock with the toe of her sandal. She really cannot seem to offer too much to the hedge conversation, though she mutters to herself, "Perhaps a warped mirror. Or cracked." Daren blinks at the retreating Empyrean woman. She may be more pleasant than the other, but Daren's expression clearly dubs her barmy as well. "I'm goin' t' HAVE to talk to Borean Aman about this," he mutters as he adjusts his cloak and dusts himself off. Aine starts and cranes her neck to look at Medea with a somewhat surprised look. She simply nods. "Of course, Arch-Magus. Thank you.." Apparently, delivery of said scroll is the sum total of Endymion's duty at the Citadel, for being relieved of the squishy parchment elicits an expression of sardonic pleasure. He pauses long enough to scythe a glance across her and mumble, "Tiberius has a really good eye, always has, never a bad one in the lot," then steps away. "Good evening, ahrm...ah...er..." Cough. Cough again. Clearing of throat. Cough. "Do... Magus?" He presents a final bow, then turns his back to her, wings nearly battering her in the face as he prepares a launch. Linnet lifts up her eyes to look at Skyfire. She smiles, her face a bit pinkish, "Perhaps we could work together? I know some herbs, and maybe you could grow them..." Her voice trails off in anticipation of a positive response. Aine, torn between too many things happening, twists back and forth. She nods absently to Skyfire and Linnet, graces Syroth with a confused look and a concerned frown falls on Jana. At the end, she starts to sway slightly, rubbing her brow with both hands. Skyfire's smile is bright at Linnet's suggestion. "I'd like that, yes." Granted, someone might need to help him stop growing, but that doesn't need to come up now. Medea nods, then places a gentle kiss on Aine's cheek. At her swaying, she frowns. A hand to Aine's back, another to her side as she demands, "You are going to bed, right now." Definitely an order. An order that brooks no rebuff. Linnet nearly giggles but manages to contain her enthusiasm. "Wonderful," she says, already planning the herbs and flowers she wants to grow. Cassandra yelps softly in startlement, unwrapping her fingers from the soggy scroll to let it drop to ground in front of her. "By skies," she stammers in an indignant exclamation, shooting Endymion's back with dulled daggers of a gaze. Mumbling lower until the words are inaudible, she prods suspiciously at the scroll with one of her toes. A moment, and then another prod. She merely stares at it, seeming unwilling to pick it up, a hand uncomfortably traveling along the length of her slender neck. Aine starts, a bit vague and then nods. It's obvious her exertions took more out of her than she thought. As the rush of excitement fades, so does her energy. She waves half-heartedly to her friends. Her step are heavy as she turns to head for the Seminary. Jana blinks at Aine, then at Medea, and she nods in a somewhat dazed expression to her Atlantean friend. "Sweet Dreams, Aine..." Daren makes his way towards where Medea (the nicer Empyrean woman) and Aine stand. One hand reaches up to his own healed temple almost in sympathy as the tiny Atlantean rubs her own, as he stands a respectful few paces away. Waiting for a moment to say something, it'd seem. Skyfire watches the young Atlantean woman depart and his attention is brought back to the maze. "Are we allowed to go in?" he asks quietly. Syroth cocks his head as if listening to something, or perhaps striving to recall some other thing. Abruptly, some inner resolve is settled and he speaks careful words, "I shall bid you all farewell. This day has brought enough tidings and wonders for me... aye, more than enough." What he means he never dares to say as he moves away, a quiet figure moving in the shadows. He does not even make the proper courtesies to the magi present. Aine stops, groggy. She peers at the Sylvan man through squinted eyes. What's he doing there? Not familiar. She sways again, deciding whether to go on or wait. Wings further outstretched, back cheerfully ignorant of the ocular knives plowed into it, Endymion pauses to find a suitable stretch of sky in which to send himself, then sees Medea. His smile, wry and wine-soaked as it was, vanishes in the puff of a few seconds' time, and he angles himself skyward... narrowly missing some poor sod just arriving. A few gold-tipped feathers flutter to the ground, the only casualties from the near-accident. Daren raises his voice a bit as Aine moves away, "Uh... Lass?" He peers at the buttons of rank, but he's still a bit groggy from his own thumping. "I heard y'say this whole thing was y'er doing?" Syroth enters the double doors that lead into the seminary. Medea looks around as she keeps Aine upright. Seeing Daren, she calls, "Come here. Carry her to the Seminary please? I cannot, and she will not make it on her own." That said, she nods and smiles to Aine, "And you, pet, you had best get some rest." "Yes. Thought it would be... nice." Aine blinks owlishly at him. She might pull a Daren right here. Without the bucket. Daren looks to Medea and nods. She's got that look of 'I order people about' to her, after all. Putting one arm about Aine's shoulders, he takes her legs out from under her with the other and scoops her up. Daren's not a Big Strong Man by any means, but Aine's the size of a child. "T'was a good thing, lass," he says as he begins walking to the Seminary, "Tell me y'r name so that I can give y'proper credit when I spread the tale about Haven." Cassandra gives the scroll another prod for good measure before she leans over to delicately lift it with the mere pads of her fingers. Carrying it with the same distasteful care of a soiled diaper, she starts in towards the tower once again. Skyfire's attention is still on the hedge, edging closer and closer to the maze-entrance. Medea follows beside Daren, opening the door, then closing it, as the three disappear into the Seminary in silence. Aine's head lolls. She sighs and -- could it be? -- 'snuggles' further into Daren's arms, letting her arms loop around his neck. Peering up at him with her head against his chest she grins. "S'Aine. 'Maris Aine."
FIN
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