"I do hold her in extraordinarily high value, in all candor, higher than I held the departed king," it's not often that Clarabel would go out of her way to say anything negative about anyone -- let alone the dead. But this was the truth and it was a time to lean on her sisters about the reality of their situation, about what they felt and how to proceed. Maybe it was the Mother who was guiding them towards unity, all of them together under one Court. Was the point for them all to have peace? There had to be a reason for this all and only through conversation -- openness -- would Clarabel find clarity. Whether that was with herself, her sisters, the temple, the Mother & the Cauldron or the people she served. "I never doubt the Mother, not truly, but I do wonder if Gaeaen magic is not of her capacity. The Mother is said to have made us and Prythian, however, there has been a lot said that has not been what has ACTUALLY been." Which begged the question -- who or what would Clara pray to if it all fell down? If the Mother, who was an entity like the Dark Mother, was cast away too?
A smile, comforted by the words and ones that echoed her previous sentiments, cast in Moira's direction. She was right -- Clarabel believed in the magic the absolute most. The magic that had ravaged her childhood, untamed and wild. The magic that had caused strife in her household, that brought her to where she currently was. It simply was -- no matter how much vilification had come from her parents, how much they had punished her for being who she was, uncontrolled for so long. Magic was always fair where people were often not. "Mmm, you're right. The way in which you're right about this particular matter was something I NEEDED to hear more than I think I knew until now. How grateful I am that you said it, really." Though, could it be possible that the very magic that brought them here uncontrollably could be above the Mother or the Cauldron, be corrupted?
This weighed heavy on Clara often, though faith was meant to be tested for otherwise it would not be real faith. Even more evident by the next words that Moira shared. "That...is not surprising. I'm no strategist and while I would much rather believe that this...convention of sorts is to bring us together as Fae...there is the OTHER thought. That if this magic, that we all believe in, that truly unites us is corrupted in any form...that this would be a purposeful game of politics. The courts just came together to enact a great good after a terrible period, is there not a possibility for a rebound? For the cauldron to tip once more?"
A unique pressure that Clarabel felt being the High Priestess of Gaea during such a time was this expectation that she had her finger of the pulse of this magic. Gods, even she wished she did -- not for the power it would wield her but for the answers it would give her. An errand thought at times, the idea that she could be chosen as High Ruler was...TERRIFYING. Though, a part of her did think that she could take to the mantle. However, it felt at times as if she was already failing as her position as High Priestess of Gaea with the little she knew or could do in the last year to change or prevent the events that occurred. Another drink is taken then, Clara knows that should she dwell on all of this -- emotionality would win over. That was not something she knew if she wanted to share with her sister, not out of lack of trust but out of resenting looking weak enough already. Another old wound she thought had healed over, exposed once more, another reason for her to listen instead of talk. To glean from a High Priestess who had been in this position, with more tenure, more knowledge.
Eye contact again is made, some of this feeling is betrayed in Clara's eyes. "I think we as Fae have seen such loud instances of strife, that I know some would feel more comforted by even louder proclamations of comfort and justice from the Mother. One of my acolytes is wise beyond her years, CONSTANTLY reminding me that from our temple -- we can be obtuse to some of the real issue and suffering caused. Magic does what magic does, fae will as well, but in a utopia world every fae would have a home. A place. Food in their bellies. That is not the case for our Great Courts & nation." A frown then and another drink. "I think many have been restless for many a reason since the wars. Wars we do no even have record or knowledge of, wars that are INHERITED as much as fought. The events of the last year as much revelation as they are – also a resurrection of long forgotten gripes. The fae need the obvious when the pain is poignant. If we, the High Rulers, all of us in our comfort do not keep sight of that -- we will not see clearly."
