The brown rabbit came back. I believe it was the same one. This time, it came to encourage me to go to a Legendkeeping moot to tell the tales Clan Laprine told to me.
I took my focusing drug again. I know I shouldn’t take it so often; twice in two weeks has had some detrimental effects on my body, and I could feel the sickness fighting to take hold during the meeting.
I think I was late because someone had already taken the rock, had already begun their poem by the time I arrived. I wish I could recall what it was about, but I have never had a head for verse. It went in one ear and out the other though I tried hard to pay attention.
I could feel myself growing weak, so when I thought a prompt had come from one named X’zirashah to take the rock, I said I would. She challenged me to fight her for it! Of all the things… I laughed it off. I saw how she moved, the strength in her muscles. Even with my magic, I likely would not have made it off that rock alive. I let her have it.
Her story was fascinating. The final line has stuck with me through my sickness, through the fog: “…only a monster can vanquish a monster.” Do I feel the truth of this deep within my soul in moments of pain and lucidity? How far have I fallen for revenge, even when I do not recall what retribution I seek? And is it so bad? She spoke proudly, and in some ways, I feel that same pride though I know my own people would scorn me for my paths.
I could not go after her though the call was lifted. I felt my head swimming and my aether too erratic. I regret that I felt too ill to pay enough attention to the next song, but I do recall its tune was soothing to my soul. It helped me regain my bearings and focus my aether once more so I could listen to the next two speakers.
The first was one J’kotah with an ambiguous tale. I believe the “moral” was meant to be that anything can be taken as blessing or as curse depending on the situation. But I heard some murmurs in the crowd about what the story meant, and one voice seemed almost familiar but a memory too distant to grasp.
Then one B’ren took the rock and told of the Boars’ way being to charge forward despite the circumstances, to strive for more than what is given.
By the end, I felt well enough for my own tale. I took the rock and spoke:
“Long ago, two, celestial sisters walked the skies together. Wherever they traveled, they brought light to the world, but they left darkness in their wake. The younger of the two, Menphina, often looked over her shoulder and slowed her pace, taking pity on those left in shadow while the elder, Azeyma, only looked forward to light her path.
“The more time passed, the wider the distance between the two grew until there was no day and no night, only a soft glow that always enveloped the world. Azeyma grew more and more frustrated by this. She missed the attention their collective vibrancy had given her, but she knew her soft-hearted sister would not willingly leave parts of the world in darkness for so long again. She decided she would find a way to force her sister to walk beside her.
“Unbeknownst to Azeyma, Menphina had made a friend, Kahlzec the Rabbit, among the creatures of the world. This friend often discussed the hardships of the never-ending glow. Creatures lost sleep. Plants either received too much or too little light and in the wrong increments. The rabbits had taken to digging underground tunnels to escape it. Knowing her sister well, Menphina also suspected Azeyma would be distress over the dulled shine, so the younger sister made her own plan.
“Neither Menphina nor Kahlzec knew how to put this idea into action, so Kahlzec plucked a bouquet of lilies for Nymeia, the Weaver, in exchange for advice. Under the Spinner’s careful guidance, the rabbit and the Lover were able to construct a beautiful cloak into which Menphina carefully embroidered much of her own aural glow.
“Soon after the construction was complete, Azeyma approached her sister with a golden rope. Sensing she had only moments to act, Menphina presented the soft, flowing cloak and said, ‘Azeyma, I have heard the cries of the world, and I have felt your sorrow. This world needs darkness as much as it craves light. I give you this cloak so you might light the world for half the time while I guide it with a glimmer at night.’
“Azeyma’s aggression paused, and she felt a rare hint of shame. ‘You would give me your light freely?’ She asked.
“’Yes,’ Menphina responded. ‘You are my sister, and my love for you is as strong as my knowledge of you. With this offering, we can give the world what it needs while fulfilling ourselves in kind.’
“Azeyma accepted gratefully, and with her cloak, she has been able to outshine all while bringing the day. Meanwhile, Menphina has ruled over the night, gently guiding those who would otherwise be lost to shadow.”
My story seemed to be well received, and it was the last of the evening, so I like to think that it will stick in people’s minds longer. The memory of Clan Laprine can live on in this way. I thank Kahlzec for sending me even a lowly messenger to help guide me to this path.
After that, the miqo’te all mingled for a time. Rabbit, my apprentice, took me aside to tell me that he had heard a tale like mine before, and he believed his mother may have been a former Messenger Priestess for Clan Laprine. I inquired as to whether his mother had re-formed the tribe. She had not.
It was in that moment that I realized just how much I missed my people, how much I wish I had what it took to rebuild them. But I am unfit. Even now, I write these words from a distance, hardly connected to them, merely putting history to paper with a sickly, shaking hand.
I do not belong to Clan Laprine any longer, but I will not let them die in memory. I hope to keep them alive in some way with Rabbit, for we are both outsiders to a dead people, but who else can ever hope to remember them?
-
@dune-witch @irahti-ffxiv Ayeh Wicthaa