RP:Heart Song

Part of the A Line Drawn in the Sand Arc

Pebbly Beach, Cenril

Momipo was lounging in the water beneath the moons. The heat from the day had subsided partially, and though it wasn't particularly chilly, Momipo, a creature of the tropics, was cold. She rubbed her arms in a vain attempt to warm up. Perhaps she would leave soon, dive under the waves and find a warm place to lay her head.

Mcracken was made of tougher stuff, being that his kind wandered the oceans far and wide, and from the blackest deeps to fairest reefs, and even though he too was a creature of the tropics by nature, the day’s cool briskness had not even moved him to seek a new pile of cast-off rags to pick through for extra warmth. He was barefoot, in raggedy pants without a shirt above. Though somebody’s old blanket was knotted loosely about his shoulders, it was too threadbare to provide him anything but the pleasure of its profoundly faded aqua-blue hue, a color which he favored. Wandering the pebbled shore in deep thought, he now and then cast his gaze out over moonlit waters, where the moons were reflected like two great, shimmering pearls. He’d sooner or later catch sight of Momipo, and tread past the sea-smoothed stones into the lapping tide, and beyond to the sea where the dusky mermaid shivered. “Good eve to thee, Sea-Child,” he called, once bobbing in the water close by.

Momipo was wondering how her northern counterparts managed to keep warm during the colder months when Mcracken made his entry. She dipped her head in reverence. "Honored Elder. It is nice to see you again." A breeze kicked up and Momipo shuddered. "I wish there was a volcanic vent around here... I know it's not really that cold, but I'm still... Do I just need to toughen up?" She had spent years doing hard physical labor and training, but she had rarely passed a chilly night. There was always someplace warm to sleep back home.

Mcracken swam closer while she spoke, the faintly aqua blanket billowing in the water behind him, and as mention of a vent passed her lips his formerly pleasant expression shifted to one of concern, “Thou mayest need to grow acclimated to the cold, if thou art staying north,” he gestured toward the south, “For the only vent this side of the Gulf is below the accursed castle, and I wouldst warn thee strenuously to avoid those waters, lest…” He’d already told her about the devastation there, so went on, “I must thank thee once more for thine aid last we met, it hath strengthened me where naught else could. I believe Mother Selene favors thee.”

Momipo nodded glumly. That's what she thought. Well, she'd get used to it in time. At his thanks, she smiled. "You're welcome. I think you're right. Our Lady of the Sea sent a tidal wave once that left me stranded far inland. I would have died if not for kind passersby. I believe she sent them, too. It was all her way of calling me to service, I feel." Her hand went to where her Talisman once hung, only for her to remember that she'd given it away. She would have to find or make a new one.

Mcracken still wore it, and on observing her hand reaching for the missing talisman, lifted it over his unruly dreads to offer it back. “I fear whatever blessing lay within thy gift hath gone to aid my healing,” and indeed, the talisman would seem drained if she took it. He studied the mermaid quietly, reflecting on her words regarding the Goddess. “I too have felt the will of the Goddess washing me to shores which best serve her purpose, and likewise bringing creatures to me… As the saying goes, we all drift on the Mother’s tide. But her influence seems to me stronger than it has in many a thousand-year.” He nodded to the depleted talisman, “I wouldst take thee closer to the cursed waters, were thou wearing such a power in its fullest capacity. Mayhap it would shield thee from the worst of the harm, so that thou couldst aid the stricken… I was earlier contemplating methods of keeping sea-life away from the region, for more each day sicken and die. I have observed, however, that some do survive, if they go far from the source and do not return. But the curse beckons like a Siren’s song to simple animals, or higher creatures of weak intellect and will. It is my supposition that it is consuming their lives for a purpose.”

Momipo took the talisman back, running her fingers over the carving. "It's alright, that's why I gave it to you." She put it back on and the pendant came to rest near her heart. "It will recharge over time, if submerged in water. In the meantime, I can still appreciate its beauty and what it represents." As she thought about Mac's words, and tried to think of a way to dissuade creatures from nearing a cursed place, a shadow passed over them.

Above, a winged serpent, blue and white, was flying about. Soon, she came to rest several feet westward. Upon her back was a young woman, wearing a dark blue halter dress. The woman got off her companion's back and gave the couatl a pat, murmuring something. If the seaborns' ears were sharp enough, they would have caught her words: "Rest now, Emielle. We'll continue on when you're ready." The woman in blue seemed unaware of the presence of others, at least until the winged serpent lifted her head to stare at them. Pilar looked over and started. Her gaze landed on Momipo, and a flush came to the vampire's cheeks and she looked away.

Mcracken not only heard the stranger’s words, but had also perceived the beat of the serpent’s wings slicing the air on high some time before it cast a shadow over the shore. He’d thought perhaps it was the feathered dragon Sykule returning with news, but when it became apparent that this was not the case, Mac kept his gaze fixed on the larger creature, placing himself with a deft stroke in between it and the mermaid, a sonic defence swelling in the kraken’s throat in case it proved a threat. However, he’d soon turn to Momipo, murmuring, “Tis safe, Sea-Child,” for the unfamiliar ‘songs’ of the woman and her mount sounded no overtly sinister note. Glancing back to Pilar, he caught her abashed aversion to the mermaid’s nakedness, an affectation the evil ones among the land-walkers didn’t seem to display at all, which only bolstered what he already knew and raised a rare smile on his more-often serious face. “Though I believe the land-walker may swoon, from glimpse of thy bosom.”

Pilar , still blushing, was debating leaving the area completely. She wasn't one for chit-chatting with strangers. Mac's comment about her fainting only made her blush harder.

Momipo huffed and put her hands on her hips. "What's wrong with my bosom?"

Pilar turned an even deeper shade of scarlet and stammered, "N-n-no-nothing, it-it-it's love-lovely, er, I-I mean..." She buried her face in Emielle's side and the couatl closed her wing around her, as if giving her a comforting hug.

Momipo raised an eyebrow, then looked at Mcracken. "I am unfamiliar with the ways of the land-walkers. Can you explain?"

Mac wasn’t really an expert in the finer points of dry-world culture, but he did know that the majority of its denizens held a peculiar antipathy to bare flesh, or rather, certain portions of it… On rare sojourns ashore in aeons past, he’d discovered that many less land-walkers grew aggressive on first contact if he resembled them—and on emerging from the sea, wore pants. “They are passing strange in this and many other regards,” he said, with a half-grin, “But this one hath the air of kindliness, as does its saurian helpmeet.” He raised a webbed hand to Pilar as he frew closer to shore, calling, “Greeting to thee, Lady, and to thy companion. Thou hast journeyed far?” Dull fare, conversation-wise, but at least it might take the focus off the issue of Momipo’s ample curvature.

Pilar was not a native speaker of Common, and was even less familiar with Mac's manner of speech. She looked at Emielle, concern etched on her features. Emielle looked back at her, and Pilar nodded, as if unheard communication had passed between them. "Hello, my lord and lady. Yes, we came from Frostmaw." Her voice carried with it an accent foreign to the land of Hollow, an accent from a distant shore, and her words were enunciated carefully.

Momipo, seeming to accept that Pilar meant no offense, cocked her head. "And where is Frostmaw?"

Pilar, realizing her assumption that they knew the land had been inaccurate, said, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. It's far to the north west, in the mountains."

Mcracken spoke a few words of agreement to Pilar, then said to the mermaid, “A great, mountainous land all covered over in ice,” but addressed Pilar as he added, “I know the place by reputation, M’lady.” He was vaguely amused by giving Momipo such an unimaginable thing to contemplate, but if there was further humor to be found in Pilar’s addressing him with ‘lord’ as he stepped from the waves in sopping-wet rags and that worn aqua blanket plastered to his torso, it didn’t show. He offered the woman a formal bow. “Tis pleasant to make thy acquaintance, Lady. Thou mayest name me ‘Mac’, and yonder Sea-Maiden is named Momipo.” He wouldn’t venture too near, lingering in the wash of the stony shallows between sea and land.

Pilar was polite to a fault. Everyone was 'lord' or 'lady' to her on first meeting. She offered a curtsy in return. "I am Pilar. This is Emielle." The couatl looked at the two seaborn, and then a soft voice floated through their minds. ~Nice to meet you.~ Momipo blinked, then looked at Mac, then Pilar, then the couatl. ~Yes, I spoke. It is a gift of my kind that I may communicate this way.~ Momipo had never encountered telepathy before, nor ever heard of it. These land- and sky-dwellers were so strange.

Mcracken was less fazed, being no stranger at all to the couatl’s mode of speech. Emielle was the recipient of a second bow, and when the kraken stood tall again he said to Pilar, “Thou hast a soothing air about thee.. “ His eyes, mismatched pearl and sea-green, wandered over the space surrounding her, “Art thou too a holy woman? For in thy song is a melody of one concerned with the well-being of others.” He broke off his polite interrogation there, to beckon Momipo closer to shore, murmuring as he did so, “Were we not just now speaking of the Mother’s tides?”

Pilar fidgeted under Mcracken's scrutiny. "Um... No, there is nothing holy about me..." Considering her decidedly UNholy condition, it was a wonder that Mac thought so. She wasn't sure what this talk of songs was about. Was he speaking literally? Had he heard her play? Or was this a metaphor? "I... You're not wrong. I do care about other people." More than she cared about herself, even.

Momipo swam up to the shore, lying down in the shallows. "We were," she replied quietly to Mac. "You think this girl can help us?"

Mcracken looked aside to Momipo, “Mayhap she can,” he said, as quietly, and turned back to Pilar, his mouth bearing the trace of a smile at her confusion, the unspoken questions made plain by the puzzlement stamped on her features. “Everything doth have its song…”, he gestured to the sea, his hand sweeping to indicate the length of the shore, “Living or….elsewise, all things hath their place in the vast symphony of creation. A stone sings the slow, constant song of earth, varied with the music of its own kind, gneiss or shale or quartz. The lowliest creatures sing only the song common to their kind,” he paused, turned to the sea and from his mouth spilled a gentle, undulating tone. All the stony pools of the shore at once burst into vibrant bloom, showing bright under the light of the moons — countless little anemones, flower-like, in banks of scarlet or gold, emerged from their shell-like homes in response to the kraken’s call. Having shown this example, Mac went on, “But the more complex a being, the more so its song, which may transcend the common music…” He gave Pilar a pointed look, while speaking those words, “And take up an entirely new place in the great chorus of this world. Thine own song…” he paused, cocked his head to one side slightly, as though listening, “Strives toward order and peace, overwhelming the chaotic chords that hath intruded, forcing them to be part of thine own music, rather than allowing their discord to subsume and control thine own melody. So yes…” Mac’s smile appeared again, “Thy.. condition, cold and terrible as its music be, is enlivened by thy unique heartsong, the music of a kind and gentle soul.” As though only now realising how long he’s rambled on, the kraken went silent, simply gazing at the woman in blue.

Pilar 's eyes widened as the sea sprang to life at Mac's notes. His voice was so soothing, serene, yet also powerful. As Mcracken spoke, and touched on the subject of her vampirism (without naming it), she grew fidgety again. "I... never wanted to be a monster... but you know that, don't you?"

Momipo cocked her head. "Condition? Monster? You look like a normal land-dweller to me," she said.

Pilar looked at Momipo sadly. "I'm far from normal."

Emielle unfurled her wing and placed it around Pilar's shoulders, offering comfort as best she could. ~That does not make you a monster,~ she said confidently, not just within Pilar's mind, but within Mac's and Momipo's as well. ~You should know as well as anyone that WHAT you are does not determine WHO you are. Your actions are what show your character, and you are, as Sir Mac has said, a kind and gentle soul.~

Mcracken nodded agreement with the couatl, and said to Pilar, “The most powerful songs contain a little discord, dark and sorrowful notes that make the music of a soul soar higher than it ever may without them..” Or drag it into madness, but this he would not speak, for Pilar would know too well that temptation. “..and as the goodly Emielle hath said, actions determine one’s fate, and the course of one’s life.. and the tone of one’s music, for it is all the same, and nought matters but what one does with it all.” He coughed, seeing that as a good place to change the topic somewhat. “One with the song and soul of a healer may apply that fate to the world in countless ways. One could, say, choose to apply it here.. and now… to the suffering creatures of the southern shores.” He’d keep a meaningful stare on Pilar for another brief moment, then look to Momipo. “Thou hast much in common, methinks, with Lady Pilar. Perhaps thou couldst in tandem be of more aid than wouldst each alone?”

Pilar had heard of the suffering animals of Cenril, but her meeting with a member of the Healer's Guild had never come to pass. And then all hell had broken loose in Frostmaw, and it was almost forgotten.

Momipo nodded along with Mac's suggestion. "Yes, I think so." Her dark eyes turned to Pilar. "I don't know if you've heard of what's been happening here, but the gist of it is this: a curse has been placed on the Coral Castle, a holy site among us seaborn, that causes those afflicted to become violently mad, and then die."

"I knew the animals were in danger, but I didn't know it was the work of a curse..." Pilar said.

Mcracken said to Pilar, “Not merely a curse, but one most unholy, the will of a dark god made manifest. And while Momipo may channel the power of the great Ocean-Mother to soothe a sick soul or mend torn flesh, that power cannot set a broken bone, nor stitch together flesh too badly torn.” He inhaled a gust of briny air and released it slowly, and the rising surge of a kraken’s terrible ire sank back to his internal deeps., “The closer a creature hath wandered to its heart, the less likely becomes its salvation. But removed from the proximity, they may improve or mayhap even heal, in time. I believe the victims of their violence wouldst benefit most from thy ministrations, M’Lady.”

Pilar looked down at her hands, clasping and unclasping, a nervous tic she had. "I'm... not all that skilled with healing, yet. I don't know if I could..." She trailed off. "I WANT to help, but I..."

~You are more skilled than you know,~ Emielle said. ~Did you not care for Queen Hildegarde's wounds? Or Lady Laezila's? You learned much from Lady Eileen and Lady Josleen, and you have been learning much under Sir Les'nowitz's tutelage, as well. You can help the animals, Pilar. I know you can.~

Momipo hummed. "Every little bit helps, as they say."

Pilar looked around, seemingly unconvinced.

Mcracken did not join this chorus of encouragement, but said quietly to Pilar, “Follow thy heartsong, Lady, for ever it will lead thee to thy truth.” He offered Emielle a courteous nod, “It is mine honor to have met with thee also, kind serpent. But the sea doth call me to it, and I must away.” He stepped over to Momipo, and squatted for a moment beside her in the shallows, “Servant of Selene, I will return with haste and meet thee in the southern reaches. Take a care not to venture too near the castle and its dead garden.” His eyes spoke of sorrow as he mentioned that once-lovely coral reef before he stood and waded into the moonlit water.

Pilar pondered Mcracken's words as he spoke with Momipo, then disappeared into the waves. Her eyes widened and she started to cry out, only for Emielle to shush her but placing her tail tip on her shoulder. ~He is of the ocean, same as the Lady Momipo, though he doesn't look it,~ she said.

Momipo, for her part, rode the surf back out into deeper water. "I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Pilar! Goodbye!" She dove under the water gracefully and vanished from sight.

Pilar gave the empty-looking ocean a half-hearted wave. "Goodbye...”