RP:Tea and Theology
Summary: Josleen, Queen of Larket, plays host to the kingdom's new religious advisor Raevyn. Over a cup of tea, they craft a moving tale in which they intend to use as the birthplace of a new religion.
Date: May 6th, 2018
Queen's Parlor [Larket]
This lavish tearoom serves as the Queen's office. Instead of a desk as the room's focal point, there is a crushed velvet chaise set before a gilded coffee table. Before the coffee table is a dark purple loveseat for guests. Tall tapestries depict whimsical, mythological scenes, several featuring unicorns and maidens. To the right of the room's entrance is a ten-foot tall portait of the King and Queen staring back at the viewer, hands held, a regal, white poodle lying between their feet with his snout held high. Beneath the portrait is a gold-threaded dog bed. The tall windows are stained glass and the marble floors shine bright and light. A silver tea caddy with a dainty porcelain teaset awaits guests.
Josleen had arranged for Raevyn’s first day with as much care as the birth of a new religion merits. While the worship of Vakmatharas is not new, the brand which Josleen hopes to create with Raevyn certainly will be. It must be, if the people of Larket can have a prayer of choking it down like a bitter pill. The Queen dons a long green gown, resplendent with flowers and butterflies in the spirit of spring. She sits on her chaise reading a whose cover title reads ‘Herbology in Tropical Climes.’ In truth, the cover is false and hides a darker topic, Vakmatharas, the interest in which the Queen is not yet ready to disclose even to her most trusted staff. A chamberlain will show Raevyn to the Queen’s parlor and invite her to tea, a snack, and a seat before the monarch.
Black. How fitting are the colors of the outfit that the messenger of Vakmatharas happens to be wearing. The color of darkness. Of death. It would not be totally unexpected, as Raevyn had not worn much in the way of colorful attire in a few years, now. Her brush the the beyond had soured her soul- Even moreso with the discovery of that infernal tome which she had been spending her time in isolation trying to decipher. Although the weather had warmed, Raevvyn still wore her wool jacket with the hood propped up. She was nervous and not exactly too keen on allowing the citizens of the city to see her face. They had once tried to lynch her, after all. And so, she entered into the fortress with her head bowed, the guard eventually letting her through after a bit of hassle regarding that gruesome looking scythe in her possession- That would all be thanks to that wonderful chamberlain that Josleen had sent. "Your majesty." Raevyn would say, a bright and cheerful smile offered to the Queen when she finally took her seat, and the scythe she walked with was handed off to the chamberlain for safe keeping during the meeting.
If Josleen had any opinions on the drab wool and hood, they don’t manifest in her expression or tone in the slightest. “Raevyn, how lovely to see you again. I am so glad you’ve decided to work with us on this important task.” Josleens orders small cheese and spinach quiches and imported olives from Elimdor, her favorite snacks. Would Raevyn like anything in particular? And to drink? Once the niceties are taken care of, she pivots to the business of the day. “I’ve been wrestling with how to introduce Vakmatharas as a figure worthy of reverence. My husband has helped me see that Death itself is not evil but a natural phenom of life, and that we only regard Death as evil because we fear Death and therefore Its god. Thus, I think it would be simple enough to rebrand Death as a neutral entity, neither good or bad. However…. And forgive me for prattling on, but this has consumed all my waking moments and we have much to discuss-- However, even as a neutral concept in the abstract, it will be difficult for people to internalize that message, to forget what they have come to learn about Vakmatharas and to forget the evil associations with the God and Death. I think Larket needs an origin story for the worship of Vakmatharas in Larket, an inspiring, heart-warming tale that serves as the genesis for a new religion. Like when Lore defended Cenril, or Aramoth created the Naga, a mythology that redefines the faith.”
Raevyn admired the queen's dress, seeming to come off as a little awestruck and bashful. It was difficult to imagine that this was a woman that had helped to inflict torture and death on helpless witches in the name of misunderstanding and fear. Out of respect, the coat was shed, soon rested upon the back of the chair in which she sat; Those pale features put fully on display for her host. Ebon tresses were neat and proper, and for the most part pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a halterneck underbust corset a top a dark grey collared shirt that was buttoned up to the neck. She wanted to seem at least somewhat put together in front of Josleen. "It is an honor, madame. Especially in the name of the Necromancer's Guild. I think it is a good way to showcase that while our organization may perhaps have dark connotations to our craft, that we are a varied and well established guild. That we are not the monsters that some fear us to be." A smile. When offered food or beverage, Raevyn declines the former, and in answer to the latter, requests simply, "Peppermint tea, please." Hands are then folded atop one another, back straight, and she listens to all that the Queen will say. "I... agree. Death in itself is a natural part of life. It is painful emotionally to those that lose someone, and I think that this in itself is partially to blame for the stigma." The girl shrugs, "But the truth is, is that death is part of a greater cycle. Of beginning and ends, and I believe that even when we pass on, that it is not actually an end. It is the start of something new. Something far more wonderful than any mortal could conceive." Raevyn offers thanks when he tea arrives, falling quiet to collect her thoughts as she stirs the drink with a spoon. "If.. you wish to romanticize this new religion, then... I think that is the angle you wish to seek. That death is the means toward something greater."
Josleen nods as she listens, her gaze at times growing a bit distant as her mind pumps the pedal of the storytelling loom. A bard by education, Josleen serves the King most by spinning the narratives necessary for his agendas. “Yes, and we need a good story, a real story with a plot, to sell it. It should draw on the truth, of course, I don’t wish to lie, but reality can be a bit bland so some creative license around details would be for the better. I’ve been thinking about this already and need your help filling in the details. The conflict for the story is fresh and raw, all Larketians live with this now. The curse that has rapidly aged our children, claimed the lives of unborn babes and mothers, it is -the- greatest suffering our this Larketian generation, and it is ripe for a hero. And the deal with Vakmatharas is in absolute truth that those parents who accept Vakmatharas in their hearts, their children will be cured of the curse. My own husband and son can feature in this genesis story, because that is also true, is it not?” The tea and snacks are served and Josleen stands to pace as she spins the tale for Raevyn. “The story goes like this: Macon, a King but also a father like any other Larketian father, grief stricken and desperate to cure his son, willing to do anything to cure him. The mages offer no answer, the druids fail to find a cure, Cyris offers only prayer, Arkhen has forsaken Larket entirely and fled the city along with the traitor Kelovath. The King, a father, in a mad act of desperation takes his only living son and heir to Vailkrin to make a deal with the God of Death. He reasons that this is a wicked curse that the witches had put in place through dark, evil magic, a deal with Vakmatharas. Only through Vakmatharas can the curse be lifted. It’s a gamble and a risk, but would any father have done any different? So far all of this story is true, I have not told a lie.” And Josleen is not pulling Raevyn’s leg. She truly, in her heart, as purely as a cherub blows a horn, will shout with conviction that witches cursed Larketian children. Valrae confessed to it to taunt Macon, and the King and Queen believed her. “But now, in Vailkrin, perhaps we need to depart from reality for a little flavor. In truth my husband met with Bradyn in The Black Library, they had a chat, and came to an agreement. Boring, isn’t it? Anti climatic, I say. Such grief and drama, and it’s settled in a library with a hand shake? No, no, I say we change the story a little in the details. We say the meeting took place in The Grand Temple of Vakmatharas. While there, a miracle happened that moved the disciples of Vakmatharas to tears and told them that this boy needs to be saved. And this is where I need your help. What type of miracle could have occured in the temple to move the followers of Vakmaharas to tears? Why symbols can we draw on? Some theatrical, big.”
Raevyn smiles and bows her head with a nod, fully intent to listen to the tale in which Josleen spoke. However, there had been something vying for her attention, something that would cause the poor girl’s heart to flutter and her chest to rise and fall at a quickened pace. Those dead pallid blues would occasionally shift past the Queen, almost as if looking at something beyond the monarch’s periphery. Whatever it was, would not be seen by any one else in the room; Neither servant nor guard, or anyone else for that matter. Anxiety? Panic? Perhaps the girl was losing her mind. It wasn’t until the question was directed at Raevyn that she took a deep breath and shut her eyes, trying to regain control. Theatrical. Moving. Big. These were the things that Raevyn needed to focus on and it seemed to help in some manner. When those eyelids fluttered open, and a sip of tea was splashed past blackened lips, Raevyn smiled and settled her gaze upon the Queen. “Perhaps Vakramathas answered the prayer and yet also intervened to save the boy from something far more painful than aging. A disease. Something that is crippling and causes untold suffering and agony. Perhaps… one of the followers of the temple offered their own life before Vakmatharas, a… moving sacrifice in the name of saving an innocent child? Do you think something like that would appeal to the masses? Would that be a grand enough gesture? Or do you think it would take something on a larger scale?”
Josleen shakes fist excitedly in triumph. “Yes! A disciple who sacrifices himself is perfect, because--and please tell me if this is too much, but...I was thinking… Bradyn confirmed that we must have at least annually a human sacrifice. That’s a hard sell… Unless the sacrifice is made by a martyr who is especially chosen and is honored with this sacrifice. It’s something beautiful. We can ask for volunteers, but failing that, then… maybe we position Guillem as a child prophet of Vakmatharas. He can choose, with his prophet’s gaze--and my guidance--the right honorable sacrifice, once per year. Is the sacrifice considered valid if the sacrificed volunteers and is willing?”
Raevyn wasn’t usually so keen on lying, but this was obviously important. Even more importantly, while she would never admit such a thing, the ordeal was a bit exciting. Fun, even. The girl became a little bouncy and embellished further. “What if… Vakmatharas called forth an angel from beyond the mortal world? An angel that would be the bearer of the cure; And upon bestowing the cure, would escort the soul of the disciple into the afterlife to a place of great reward. Before doing so, the angel touched upon the King’s forehead and showed him visions of the pleasures and rewards, of a divine resting place for all who make such ultimate sacrifices.” The girl nodded, “It would certainly tie in to what Bradyn spoke of, and perhaps be an incentive, something to entice the yearly quota.” With the idea of appointing Guillem to pick and choose, Raevyn protests, politely. “Only if you have multiple willing bodies. To allow the child prophet to pick and choose if none are willing… well… I think it would be a quick end to your kingdom, madame. So, first, we must sell this idea. To make the citizens want to participate. Perhaps you may even offer some sort of compensation to the family of the sacrificed. So that those who would be willing, will know that their family will be taken care of in their absence.” A black painted nail tapped upon her lip as the young neophyte then suggested, “I… think, we must preach the word of Vakmatharas first. To speak of the wonders and rewards to get the idea out there. Perhaps hold some sort of large event, a festival, and in the end have someone address the crowd in a positive way. To let them know what is at stake. To plant the seed of the idea.”
Josleen grows excited as Raevyn embellishes this story further. “Yes! The visions are a lovely touch, you have a gift for storytelling. However, I say the visions should have been given to Guillem, for he is innocent and less likely to be accused of deceit. King Macon, unfortunately, is often undermined by Larket’s enemies in a way no one would dare with a six year old child. So we say Guillem had the visions, and that is why it is he who can select a person for honorable sacrifice among the willing, you make an excellent point. The compensation to families is an excellent idea! Very kind.” And also likely to incentivize the destitute to offer themselves as sacrifices so their families can collect on a life insurance of sorts… “And if there are no willing…. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” She nods at Raevyn’s idea of a festival. “I agree, we don’t start with the sacrifice. Heavens no! We start with the beautiful story of a lovely child,” [who is lovelier than Josleen’s own son?] “who moved a would-be villain to tears and self sacrifice. I think something visual should happen at the temple in this story to motivate the disciple to offer his life. Perhaps we say that when Guillem entered the temple, the avatar of Vakmatharas hung over the altar wept, and seeing that, the disciple was moved to weep too.”
Raevyn couldn’t help but clap her hands in an enthusiastic manner. She was like some sort of over-excited child- Something she would quickly realize and soon regain her composure. A sip of tea. A smile. Perhaps a little ass kissing. “That works quite well. It would make Vakmatharas seem compassionate. Caring in his own way. Having the child receive the vision is also a stroke of genius, madame.” Raevyn thought then, “Perhaps you could put on some sort of play to tell the story? Involve the Bard’s Guild in some way. Something visual for the people to latch onto, yes? It could be a large production. People enjoy such entertainment, and the story itself would be so fitting for such a performance.” Raevyn shifted in her chair as she watched the Queen and her reactions throughout the conversation, trying her best to impress the woman of royalty. She also wanted to prove to herself, and mostly Bradyn, that he had made a good decision in trusting the girl to do this task. “In my spare time, away from my studies, I can help to spread the word. Slowly, little by little until I have some sort of a following. I can speak of the miracles cast by His hand. Perhaps to vilify those that do evil in His name.”
Josleen takes her turn as the over excited child. "A play! Of course! We could work on a script together, get the iconography right. Involving the Bard Guild would lend the production more legitimacy, yes! My dear friend Alvina Landon is in the guild's administration. Perhaps we hold the play in the Temple of Cyris, so it seems not so taboo. If we can convince the local priest of course... Say that Cyris is bearing witness to a new miracle." Then Raevyn volunteers to act as a proselytizer and Josleen beams giddily. "You exceed my expectations, Raveyn. I feel blessed for meeting you at such a crucial time. We will do great work together, I can feel it. We're of a mind. If you need accomodations in Larket to shorten your commute, I can see to that as part of your compensation."
Raevyn wells up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Not in quite some time had someone been so highly spoken of her, not since she had left her home at least. Her former instructor was very much the sort to encourage and prop up the girl, but that was so long ago. Even if Bradyn was proud of her, he would never say it. And so, with the Queen’s elation, Raevyn’s head had found itself in the clouds. “I would be honored to assist with the play, madame. And… I thank you for your kind words. I am touched, really. Although, if it is not too much to ask of you, If I am to find myself in Larket on a more permanent basis, I would very much prefer if I could have some sort of anonymity? If I am to play the part of some sort of Evangelist, I would like to do so under the guise of another. To hide my real identity. I... there are things or people that I would rather not reveal myself to. Not yet at least. I can fix some sort of costume or mask, some sort of clergy outfit to solidify my role without the need to showcase my face.“ The girl smiles and bows her head to Josleen, “If you nor the King have any objection to such a thing, then I am very much happy to stand by your side in this.” Raevyn then takes on a look of surprise and tacks on, “OH! My friend. Celaeno! I would request safe passage for her if and when she comes to Larket. She too is with the Necromancer’s Guild and was once falsely accused by the citizens. She is… my closest friend, and I would love to have her in my company when I am able, so she must be absolved of the unjust accusations against her.” Raevyn paused, thinking that maybe she came off a little demanding. To offend the Queen of Larket was the last thing she wanted to do. “That is, if you do not mind. I apologize for being so forward.”
Josleen hides her alarm at Raevyn's need for anonymity. The Vailkrin folk are always a mysterious lot. "A clergy outfit would be ideal. I'll let you decide on the color, though I caution against black..." She says this warily as she looks over Nasada's attire. "The locals may find black too dark and it may undermine our goals with this new religion." Saying it like that, 'new religion', Josleen's chest swells with surreal pride. Who would have thought that she, Josleen born to no last name, a rural girl from Xalious, child of illicit love between an elf and human, would one day be at the birth of a new religion. She smiles as Raevyn continues to flatter. "We are lucky to have you." Then Raevyn mentions Celaeno. "Who?" Josleen doesn't follow the Guard's law enforcement very closely. "Oh, I am sorry to hear of these false accusations! I am sure we can clear the air. Bring her with you to our next meeting, have her explain what happened, and I'll see what I can do. I'll make sure the Guard lets her through." Well, she knows the Guard would second guess this edict of hers, so she'll have to get Macon on board. No problem. For Guillem and the children of Larket, what wouldn't he do? "There's a chance my husband would want to meet with her too." The chamberlain signals that it is time for Josleen to go. "Raveyn, this has been very productive. I don't know if you know, but I was classically trained in the performative arts at The Cenrili Academy of Music and Arts. I would love to draft the play myself--a throwback to my years as a schoolgirl in Cenril. Then we can review the draft together and perfect it. For now I must take my leave. You really are a dear. My chamberlain will help you find your way out."
Raevyn would take one final sip of her tea before standing, a polite and respectful curtsey displayed for the Queen. “Of course, madame. It would be an honor to have you do the draft. Until next we meet, may… Vakamatharas bless you.” A bright smile, a bit of jest, and the girl throws on her coat just as the chamberlain makes approach with the necromancer’s scythe. Taking the item and propping up her hood, Raevyn follows the staff member out of the castle grounds.