RP:Pilgrimage of Labors

Summary: Reginae and Bastion cross paths after much time has passed. They discuss their own pilgrimages.

Merchant Street

Bastion hadn't been around for some time... his pilgrimage of labors had taken him far, far from the lands of Hollow... that, and a particularly cunning cobbler had finally proved the first wily peasant able to trick him into marriage. He'd married Bastion to his eldest daughter by carrying on a conversation with Bastion, or so Bastion thought, in a language he didn't know in front of an ordained priest. The priest sealed the marriage, making it legally binding, which required Bastion to take drastic measures to protect his chastity and annul the marriage while maintaining his rigorous vow of Truth. It had been quite the mess, indeed. But now, he was back! And no more nonsense would keep him from his pilgrimage of labors, which had him hauling spuds to market. He was pushing a quite heavy wheelbarrow, the poor little guy. He sure did a lot of hard labor for a guy with such small muscles! He struggled with the weight, but seemed to be able to keep balanced, with a steady pace, his pink and black robes and horns, as always, making him stand out from the crowd. He still insisted upon his strange garb, even when toiling.

The same could be said about Reginae. Though her pilgrimage was set to the narrow time warped shores of Alithrya and time now saw fit to spit her back out into the world to rejoin the populous on the mainland. No tricked marriages bound her but she had no such vow to uphold either! Disguised as she usually was as a tall male rogue with black clothing and a disinterested but animated expression, she stopped to watch her former healer struggle with potatoes with sharp eyes. The market was crowded, so the male was easily obscured by others coming and going. The rogue stepped behind a cluster of cloth-walled shops and a Naga woman in blinding white exited through the outside. How long had it been since her scales cut against the cobblestone here? A lifetime ago. Her white robes remove contrast between her other snowy features; scales, hair, muted pale skin. It’s her eyes, glittering azurite, that marks her as less than a common phantasm or ghoul. It was the season of ghosts, after all. She follows behind him for a minute, watching and waiting for a chance to approach. When it presents itself, one slender finger would tap his shoulder to alert him to her presence and he’d be met with a muted smile if he turned to acknowledge it.

Bastion almost tipped his potato cart once! Just once, though. Someone bumped into it. Meanwhile, a snek lady snucked up on him, and tapped him on the shoulder. He gave a little start, then turned with a wide, doe eyed expression and blinked at her a couple of times, before comprehension dawned on his features. "Oh! Oh! Naga lady! Umm... wait, don't tell me... ah... Renegade? No, Redginade? Something 'ade'." He scratched his head, getting further and further from the truth. "Anywho, I see you're doing well! It's lovely to see you!" He was just so very full of good cheer. You'd think her appearance had brightened his life considerably, the way his demeanor lit up upon recognizing her. Bastion had a tendency to make people feel good about themselves... it was a talent that got him into a lot of trouble. Brought out the possessiveness in people.

Reginae leans her torso back over her tail, nearly running into him when he stopped. Naga lady? She huffs with a small smile. “Naga lady indeed.” She echoes with mirth. It only grows when he misremembers her name almost entirely. “Reginae?” She offers hopefully. His good cheer was infectious and usually she’d been eager to soak it in. Today she had business and Cenril reminded her of… “Still alive! As I see you are. I never got to thank you properly for your help before. Embarrassingly, I passed out for a good long while and you were nowhere to be found when I woke up.” She’d been a mess after that fight. “It’s lovely to see you too.” Lovely? It’s quaint, she likes it. It does lift her spirits a smidge. “It’s been such a long time, how have you been? Where are you taking these...potatoes?” The naga circles around in a wide arch to pick one up from the cart and examine it critically. “Are these enhanced by some cleric magics?” She squints, as if doing so would reveal their potato secrets.

Bastion watched her with an unwavering smile. "Oh, I've been well! I've not had very many adventures of late, but I can't complain. Peace is very rewarding, after all. These are normal spuds, no magic to them! They're off to sell at market. They're very good cut thin and fried in animal fat... and the leftover over fried bits are even better." Yes.... the bits were delicious. Mhmm. Bits. "As a peasant monk, it's my main duty to do hard labor for free, to aid the common folk as best I may at all times. It's the 'labors' part of the pilgrimage of labors." He pat the potatoes with affection. "Of course, as I've already carted almost the entirety of the farmer's supply to market already, I'm free for doing aught else as soon as these are delivered. We started before dawn, and have made good progress today." That was how the story tended to go... Bastion was in the business of making people's lives easier, and he was good at his business... if not at profiting from it. Vows and all that. "What does a pretty naga lady like yourself get up to in Cenril?"

Reginae looks from the monk to the potato, back to the monk and once more to the potato. Normal, everyday, potato. Hmm. “Peace -can- be rewarding.” But she doesn’t really believe that. Conflict breeds character, that’s what Aramoth teaches. Battle is glory. There is no higher purpose. Not that she’s discounting this man’s pilgrimage. “How do you know when the ‘labors’ part is complete? And what’s the pilgrimage for anyway?” The naga didn’t understand more passive religions. What was there to life beyond survival of the fittest? She lets the potato fall back into the cart as the conversation advances. “That sounds like tedious work…” She frowns, finding the taste bitter in her mouth. His calling her pretty gives her pause. Do humans...find monsterous nagas attractive or is he just being courtly? “Uh, I just came to meet with someone.” A witch, in fact. But word on the street was that witches weren’t exactly beloved. “I can’t say Naga are popular here, by a long shot.” Probably because of all the...being monsters with no regard for humanoid life. Or something. Naga lady. “You look like a…” What do people usually like being called, flattery wise? “...nicely...soft sort of person. I assume you know a lot of people around here. Perhaps you could help me find someone else I’m looking for. Do you travel to Frostmaw often, by chance?”

Bastion was a human lie detector, part of his vow of truth. "Truly, it can! I understand the dichotomy of conflict breeding survival skill, but warriors do not build temples or castles. Nor do they reap the fruit of the earth, nor do they offer exotic luxuries and always, always they require more conflict... when one has a skillset tailored to war and no war to fight, one is left... at a disadvantage, after all." He'd seen some things, along those lines. Terrible things. "My labors will never be complete. This is a lifelong pilgrimage. My calling is as a servant, and humility is not a lesson one can simply finish... it requires diligent practice. Naga might not be popular here, but I do not doubt it is worse for witches. Last I left, Larket was persecuting them strongly... I helped as many as I could." Which was a lot... he'd developed a strong reputation for it, especially after he'd been publicly beaten for openly protesting the Queen's and King's methods. "I do not get to Frostmaw too often these days... when I do, I like to spend my time in endurance training in the snows." Frostbite didn't hurt too terribly much, and his healing arts helped make sure he made full recoveries, even after... downright foolish lengths of training. "I'm always willing to help, however! And I do know many people here. I not only help with labors in Cenril, I also act as a doctor, surgeon, acupuncture and massage therapist, and self defense instructor for the locals." He kept... busy.

Reginae is visible impressed. “I’ve heard...many stories about the witch persecutions in Larket.” Muzo’s scared face, crimson eye gleaming all knowingly, paints itself over Bastion’s. She pauses, helplessly entranced, before she can continue. Reginae hadn’t helped any witches. The most she’d done was confront the mad scientist reportedly doing experiments on them. Cutting them open and keeping them alive to study what made them tick. Muzo… Her expression sours with anguish and she scuffs quietly. “Larket seems to be on the brink of madness, if not already sinking.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “That’s just as well. Frostmaw’s been quiet of late. Not a whisper on the streets about them. They must be hunkering down in the face of all this...chaos.” He speaks about training in the snow and the mere mention of the cold makes her shiver. Cold blooded and all. “Well, if you happen to see any other Naga, I’d be eternally grateful if you sent them my way or at least, let me know. Particularly…” She frowns again and decides against whatever she almost said. His list of qualifications was impressive. “A very skilled acupuncturist, if I do say so.” Where did he find the time? “Are you going to be around Cenril for a while?”

Bastion tapped his chin. "On the brink of madness? They crossed that border long ago, I'm afraid. I do what I can, where I can... safely. I've nearly lost my life there a time too many, now. I'm of little use to anyone dead. I will keep that in mind of other naga! I will be traveling betwixt Cenril, Kelay, and Xalious for the nonce. I do try to visit the Burrows whenever I can, and I have promised some of my time to the denizens of Enchantment. It surprises me how many pixies wish to learn how to work with needles!" Keeping in mind he was fully aware of the prospect that it was all mischief that they had in mind. Most of the fae were good to him, though, and he felt safe among them. He gave nature it's due, and did as much free work for them as anyone else, which kept him popular. "It is good to hear Frostmaw is quiet, of late. They follow Aramoth, and I'm always impressed to see war cultures embrace peace, for however long they may. The Frost Giants were a raider society exclusively for a very long time, I've been told. I am concerned about this chaos you mention, however. I may offer my services to whomever I may, in maintaining peace and order... I'd like to avoid fighting if I can, however. My pacifist martial arts are poorly suited to warfare." Self defense? They were wondrous. Stopping opponents intent on conquest? Less so.

Reginae blinked. Burrows? Enchantment? Pixies…? When had she last seen one? She tenses when he mentions Aramoth, feeling a personal attachment to her own god. “It’s not always good when a city finds peace.” But she doesn't elaborate. She knew they disagreed on this. “Not that it should always be war and suffering but...getting complacent and soft is dangerous. Trusting in peace is just as dangerous as reckless as mindless war.” Without an objective, without wish beyond death. “But...to each his own, I suppose.” Peace. What a crippling word. “You’ll have to introduce me sometime, to the pixies or the burrows.” Her tone was laced with uncertainty. She did not know if she truly wanted this. “I appreciate you looking out for us -” Us being naga. “I’m trying to find someone.” A sigh. “But I digress. I have a meeting to get to but I wouldn’t mind talking more later if we cross paths. Maybe I can help you somewhere down the line, in your labors or strife.” It never hurt to have a helping hand on deck, anyway. She lifts her own pale fingers and waves them to disengage and slither a foot or two away from the loaded cart. “Even if I don’t agree with the idea, I still think peace sounds nice on the outside.” Sounds nice on paper but not in practicality. “Peace of mind can be found in many ways. Right?” She smiles then, thinly veiling a deeply rooted displeasure. She truly believed that but peace, for her, felt very far away.

Bastion sensed the inner conflict she suffered from. It was his area of expertise, after all. "I am a monk, my fair lady Reginae... the core of the monk creed is diligence, but I do realize that without conflict, not all are so... disciplined. I do not argue that an utter lack of conflict can be as destructive as conflict at its worst, as it can easily pave the way to that violent inevitability, with no experience in the art, and no recourse. That said, I do believe there are other ways." He shrugged. "I do not seek to change your mind. Your culture, your nature, I am not opposed to them. My duty is to understand peace, and seek it for myself... not to enforce it upon others. Perhaps by obtaining a deeper understanding of it, I might one day be able to spread my wisdom to greater effect. "I will do what I can to aid you, whenever you are in need, and your own aid and presence will always be welcome and appreciated. Until next time, oh beautiful serpent." There was something so.. genuine about his words. They weren't mere flattery, and they dared one to defy their truth. Being avowed to truth gave him an aura of honesty, after all... it was difficult a vow to maintain at times, and harshly demanding... but that aura was proof of his utter honesty. No white lies, no half truths, no deflections. When he called her beautiful, it was because in his eyes, she was a creature of remarkable beauty. It was no wonder he was so well liked by the folk around him.