Valley of the Golden Lily: Gift of Earth

[Jasmine]

((Closed to recruited. If interested, please PM Chelley))


Jasmine and Siela stepped off the Sapphire Queen and onto the busy docks of the Outlander's Quarters in Irrakam. Though it had already been quite warm while the ship sailed upriver to Fallien's capital, the wind that kept the ship moving had also served the keep the women a little cooler. Now, the two women felt as though they were immediately perspiring as the full heat of the desert nation hit them.

Before departing the ship, Jasmine had asked for the name of an inn. She did not know much about Fallien, but she did know that before she could hope to find a flower of sufficient beauty here an Exit Pass for both her and Siela would be required. Of course, she also needed the help of a local. That, she surmised, would likely be far more difficult than obtaining an Exit Pass. She was not yet sure how she was to convince any native of Fallien to allow her to take away a flower. However, she had determined even before taking the Tumi bird from the jungle that she would at least try to get a beautiful desert flower as her Gift of Air for the Oracle.

Her thoughts fell back to Moriah as she walked down the street toward an inn. Back home, her husband, Zerith, lay in a magic induced sleep. Her sons, Zevernus and Aidan, were there to help take care of him. In truth, there was very little anyone could do. That was why she was here. She needed the wisdom of the Oracle in the Golden Valley to discover what had made her love so mysteriously ill. In order to get that wisdom she needed to bring three gifts: air, earth, and water. She had the Gift of Air in the form of a mated pair of Tuli birds from the Nadai Jungle. At present, they were being taken care of in the palace. After she got her Gift of Earth flower, she planned to return to Moriah, fetch the birds then head for Akashima. Hopefully, the Gift of Water would be easily found close to the Valley.

The princess sighed as the though about Zerith. So far away, she could no longer sense them through the bond they shared. A part of her felt strangely empty without having the sense of how Zerith felt physically and emotionally. The couple had not been so far apart since Sei's war on Corone ended and Zerith returned to Moriah.

She stopped at a tap on her shoulder. Lost in though, she had nearly passed the inn. Siela looked at her mother, silently questioning if she was alright. Jasmine mentally shook herself and tried to give her eldest child a smile. They entered the inn and secured themselves a room with two beds. Today would be spent trying to find out where the most beautiful flowers grew and how one might get a live one to take home. Hopefully, someone would be sympathetic to her cause and give her the information she needed. Of course, there was also the business of getting an Exit Pass, but Jasmine did not think that would be a troublesome task.

With key in hand, Jasmine led the way to the room she would share with Siela. Neither woman spoke much. It had been a long journey already and they still had a long way to go. The heat, which they were wholly unaccustomed to, sapped their energy as though they'd been walking for days on end. Their room was a simple one. Two beds dominated the single space with a small table between them. A window overlooked the street below and in one corner another small table stood with a washing pitcher of shard glass sitting on it.

Siela dropped her travel bag on the floor and flopped onto a bed. Even indoors, the heat was nearly unbearable to the teenager. She'd insisted quite vociferously on staying with her mother for the rest of the journey and, with her uncle's convincing help, had managed to get her mother to agree. She had not realized how drastically different Fallien would be from Moriah. While Moriah was of course quite warm, it was not as oppressively hot as this place had turned out to be.

“I think I'll just lay here awhile...”

Jasmine smirked and set her travel bag on the floor at the foot of the other bed.

“Fine, but don't miss dinner. I'll be downstairs. Maybe I'll be able to find someone to help us.”

With that, Jasmine left Siela to rest and returned to the tavern area of the inn. She ordered a glass of water and found a seat that gave her a view of the whole area. For the moment, people-watching was in order. She needed to see what kind of people she was surrounded with before she tried to ask for help.

[Roht Mirage]

Astarelle nervously adjusted her head scarf, its folded edge wrapped tight just above her brow, as she watched a peculiar mother and daughter duo enter the inn. They caught quite a few eyes, what with their pale skin and soft features. The swords on their hips received a fair number of glances, also. This was the Outlander's Quarter, and it was best to be wary. However, the two diminutive women -small even by Fallien standards- seemed more in need of a drink than a fight.

While the other patrons dismissed the new arrivals, Astarelle couldn't look away. The shorter woman barely looked old enough to have the other for a daughter. It was only in the side-by-side contrast that she could read the experience in the mother's smooth face, the purposeful resolve in her eyes. To a lesser extent, the daughter carried herself with the same air. Whatever had brought them to Fallien, it was not the sight-seeing or the sweet meats.

All that information, Astarelle gathered as a matter of habit. She didn't really care why they had come. She was simply taken by a sudden jealously for the mother's hair. Like a captured streak of midnight, it hung in a braid almost to her knees. Astarelle's own hair, nearly as dark, was trapped under the crimson scarf as far as midway down the back of her head. The visible length hung to her shoulders, mostly. There were many sections that were clearly shorter, their abused ends sticking askew, giving her a tail of limp quills.

“Astelle?” asked the other woman who sat with her on the carpeted and pillowed seating area that took up half the room. The other half was full of chaired tables, making the inn a true mix of Fallien and outsider tastes. It was an appropriate design for any establishment near the docks, but one that placed her practically on the floor with the back of the common room blocked by half-occupied tables. Behind that obstruction, the mother and daughter disappeared.

“Astarelle,” she corrected with a shake of her head to clear the embarrassing burst of envy. She had gone through a lot in the last year. Battles and deaths, some unexpected victories, and a very bittersweet homecoming. The ruination of hair was the least of her concerns.

“Sorry,” Rea said with a small pat on one of Astarelle's curled legs, her fingers sinking into the baggy, golden-hued cotton pants. She wore a loose robe of local cut with a wide silk belt cinching the waist. It made Astarelle's pants and brown, draping top seem almost boyish, even if a sliver of her taut belly -fair skinned for a fallieni native- was peeking as she sat up on the pillows.

“You were telling me about Corone. My husband has only seen the ports and just a little bit of Radasanth,” the darker woman continued. Her perfect Fallien speech made the names of far off places sound especially alien, so much so that Astarelle felt foreign herself.

“It's strange,” she answered slowly, to which Rea leaned in and almost rolled, cross-legged, off her seat. “It's wetter, of course. At first, it was like I couldn't take a breath without also taking a drink. But, I suppose he already told you about that.”

Rea laughed quietly and crossed her arms. “Oh yes. He could go on for hours about the weather, both on the sea and in other lands. He spends so much time looking at the sky that he never talks to anyone who isn't busy loading a ship. You know the people there well, don't you? What are they like?”

Insane, careless, violent, she thought venomously, but just as quickly countered herself with, Honorable, benevolent, loyal. There was far too much history -very recent history- behind those observations, and she left them unspoken to keep from digging it up. Instead, she gave a bemused smile and said, “They're very much like children, both for good and bad. It's a softer life than here. A lot of opportunities and guarantees. They're almost.... whimsical with how they fill their lives. I've never met a fae, but they must have some fae blood in them.”

Rea's eyes lit up. “That sounds lovely.”

Astarelle leaned in and lowered her voice. “I think half of them are mercenaries. Both the adventurous and the dangerous kind.” She made a stabbing motion with an imaginary blade.

“Oh,” the fallieni wife breathed, her enthusiasm dimming. “Do you really want to go back there?”

“There's hardly any place left for me here,” Astarelle muttered, then blinked as she realized she had said it aloud. She covered with a bright and cheery smile that didn't betray the knot in her heart. “It's home to me now, you could say.”

The small woman nodded, her dark features radiating sympathy. “Are you leaving soon?”

“Maybe...,” Astarelle trailed off.

The smell of briny sea air suddenly hit her far more strongly than it should in river-locked Irrakam, making her look behind her just as Rea bounced to her feet and, giggling, wrapped her arms around her young fallieni husband. He squeezed her tightly and settled her flailing feet on the floor, then looked over her shoulder at Astarelle and gave an awkward wave.

Astarelle colored and played with the edge of one long pillow as older memories tugged at her. Old scars; the deepest ones never did heal right.

“How was Dheathain?” Rea chirped up at her husband.

“There was a storm when we arrived,” he responded instantly, “A cold one for the season. And so humid that I could almost swim in the air.”

She sighed and separated herself from him, one hand remaining on his arm. “This is Astarelle,” she said with a wave and a grin, “We just met today. She's quite the traveller.”

He nodded and gave a quiet “oh” as some of the awkwardness fled from his face.

“Do you need a place to stay until you leave?” Rea asked as if only considering it now, and added in a sly whisper, “The inns here overcharge even more than they used to.”

Still seated, Astarelle looked up at the couple. Her gaze shifted between them, then drifted over the spot where her hand connected to his arm. “No, I'm fine,” she lied, and lied well. With a nearly-genuine smile, she took up the long reed staff at her side and used it to gracefully stand. “I was planning to head out shortly. Corone calls.”

“Next time, then,” Rea promised as she stepped from her husband to give Astarelle a quick hug. Then, they walked to the door, the fallieni man-of-the-sea's arm slung around her tiny shoulders.

Astarelle watched until they were swept into the hot, mid-day traffic and the door lazily creaked shut. She reached down for her pack, but stopped just before touching its lone strap. With a long exhalation, she sat herself down upon the floor pillows, her sandaled feet curling under her once more, and gingerly lay the reed staff at her side.

One hand played across her scarf-wrapped brow as her eyes looked far far away.