RP:The Monkeys and the Monk

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Queen Josleen meets Bastion, a charismatic pilgrim and monk temporarily working at the zoo. He doubts witches are responsible for the curse, but fails to convince the Queen, though he succeeds in charming her and the Prince on a personal level.

Guillem makes monkey friends.

Larket Zoo

Bastion had never had a job quite this impressive, and complicated. It was difficult for the keepers at times, when their druids ducked out of work, feeding and cleaning up after some of the more aggressive animals without magical means to pacify them. Bastion filled in rather well. Not a single creature had attempted to attack him while he cleaned its cage, poured its feed, and in many cases pet it. Even the unicorn let him get close without so much as a whiny, as though he were a virginal, pure hearted maiden. There were some whispers about that perhaps being the case, considering how pretty he was... but nothing said openly. As usual, after a mere week of working in town, there were people trying to trick him into marrying into their families, offers to sup and sleep in the homes of the locals, and invitations extended to parties that probably shouldn't be thrown in such times of poor economy. Bastion was loved. He worked for everyone, worked day and night, and charmed people as well as he did the creatures of the zoo. He overheard a demonstrator rising above everybody else and raising his voice, denouncing witchcraft and claiming that the throne would clean the curses from the city. Bastion didn't seem like he was going to comment, until others turned towards him, some asking him directly whether he was willing to help find the witches. He was a monk, after all, a devout, holy man according to their understanding. He found himself quite put on the spot. "Ah, you see, it isn't my place to lead such aggressive movements. I am a peasant monk, a pacifist. I am sworn to peace, and seeking peaceful resolution. There are plenty of uncertainties in these times anyway, chief among which are whether or not these witches are merely scapegoats. I have seen much in my short time, good people. I lost some very close to me to similar witch hunts, innocent friends who were singled out for their differences. Were it not for the profound range of mystical oddities in these lands, surely my own strange horns would have had me included in such a witch hunt, which often merely singles out and punishes the different, the voices that dare rise in protest to the great mob mentality." His words were wasted on many, but not all. Still, even those that disagreed did not do so vehemently, they seemed to respect his opinions, where they'd shout down another who said the same things. "Should I believe innocent lives are in danger, I will act, always, but I do not condone violent recourse. That is why I am a monk, not a warrior. I fight only to defend, and only when all other options are exhausted. As for this plague of such a magical nature... I can safely say this much. I see magic, in a way that most would find strange and difficult to comprehend. It does not follow the patterns I would expect, would it have come from a witch, or even many witches. I have many doubts about such claims."

It may be no coincidence that the demonstrator chose to speak when he did. Word that the Queen and young Prince (and their ample entourage) were in attendance spread through the zoo faster than Prince Guillem’s excited legs could take him. He ran up to the anteaters enclosure and shrieked with pleasure, then ran to the turtles and cackled with glee. Lions! Tigers! Snakes exhibit! Everything is new and exciting and the hyperactive Prince could not slow down as he zipped here and there, oblivious to the bittersweet sadness with which he infects all those he leaves in his wake, who grimace as they watch a two month old run. The curse of rapid aging which afflicts all young children in Larket did not spare the Prince. The ugliness of this curse, its breadth and cruelty, has further fanned the flames of suspicion and hate of witches. “Guillem, darling, don’t touch the monkeys!” Josleen says as Guillem reaches into the monkey cage to shake hands with a primate. “How do do?” asks the two month old who stands and speaks like a two year old. “How do do, monkey?” As they near the unicorn cage, Josleen overhears Bastion’s speech. She signals for her handmaiden to watch Guillem as she diverts her attention towards the monk. “So based on the patterns of magic, if not a witch, then who? What type of magic is this? What is your theory?”

Bastion looked to Josleen when she spoke, not recognizing her in the least. He blinked. "It is something far more powerful, I think, than anything mortal witches could conjure. But, I must admit to a certain level of ignorance of the magics of this land. Where I come from, such magic as this is... impossible, simply. And dragons are creatures of myth, thought by most not to exist. This land is very different, and I will not claim to know something that I do not. Those are only my suspicions." He stepped down, and people parted. It didn't seem many supported his ideas, but perhaps some had listened, and thought on it. He approached the young prince, and gave a smile that wasn't in the least bittersweet. Bastion loved children, and knew tragedy befell the old, the young, the sick and the healthy alike. What made it truly tragic was the sorrow underlying the visages and words of everybody in the afflicted's lives, creating a pain more poignant than the curse its self ever would. "You look quite excited! Perhaps you'd like to pet some of them, hmm? If it's alright with your mother, you can pet anything you like. I'll keep you company." He'd be absolutely safe with Bastion by his side, with his unique ability to pacify creatures, and his many talents geared towards the defense of others. Bastion did feel heartache for the child's plight, though. Petals of cherry blossoms fell about him, not vanishing when they hit the ground, and a black eweling lamb with the horns of a fully grown ram bleated and trot around him. It seemed his spirit was quite riled up while he was here in Larket... there was fell magic about, suffering. He wanted to help.

Bastion may not recognize Josleen, but others do. Either they recognize her face as that of the Queen of Larket and bow; or, they don’t recognize her face but judging by the crown, fancy clothes, entourage, and bowing make an educated guess and bow as well (save a few particularly brave witch-sympathizers who are content to stand upright, but out of sight). The Queen smiles at Bastion’s response and replies with her own bardic charm and awareness of an audience’s eyes upon her. “I certainly hope you are right and that no mortal is capable of this. But dragons are real and what’s thought impossible oftens comes to pass.” The guards tense as Bastion approaches the Prince, and Josleen is quick to close the small gap between herself and her son, taking his hand quickly though she does not pull him away from Bastion, who seems harmless and well-intentioned. She is not immune from the monk’s charm, but the Royal Family has a target on its back even in the best of times, and the times are far from the best. Josleen herself has suffered humiliations, hexes and attacks. She’ll risk nothing, especially not when it comes to her son. Still, she encourages Guillem to reply. The Prince blinks his big gray eyes at Bastion and nods shyly. “Monkey,” he says, to no one’s surprise. He’s obsessed with monkey face back home, obsessed with monkeys in the zoo. Josleen will accompany the Prince and monk into the monkey enclosure. “He loves monkeys,” she says to Bastion with motherly pride.

Bastion wasn't oblivious to the trappings of royalty, and though he hadn't formally bowed, did give a graceful semi-bow to the queen after she commented about monkeys. "I see! Monkeys are indeed marvelous creatures." He went to the enclosure, and opened it, extending a hand, and cooing softly. One of the monkeys came to him, and clambered up his leg, to hang from his arm, as though at play. He beckoned the pair of them to follow, at their leisure. He was careful, he watched the attitudes of the monkeys, and watched all around for foul play. The situation in the city was too tense for him to do any less, but no threat would dissuade him from doing everything he could to help a child have a fun time at play. Monkeys gathered around, and tugged on his horns, and he laughed at it. They seemed to be almost... polite to the prince, and very patient with him, as though Bastion was somehow, at some level, influencing their behavior. He looked back to Josleen while in the enclosure. "You must be the Queen of Larket, Your Majesty Josleen, correct? You must be having an extraordinarily difficult time of things, in this time of unrest. I offer my sympathies. Hopefully soon, you'll feel free to walk among your people without need of guards." He was honest, sincere, and he damn well should be, having been vowed to Truth.

Josleen follows Bastion into the enclosure with Guillem in hand. Once inside, the by breaks off to touch the monkeys and ask each of them personally ‘How do do, monkey?’ He then starts naming them. Monkey, big monkey, baby monkey, fuzzy monkey, gray monkey, and so on. His mother watches with pride. Isn’t he perfect? Just the most perfect child you’ve ever met? Obviously he is. The Queen nods politely to Bastion’s question. She laughs at his suggestion that she walk freely without guards. “Oh, I doubt they’d like that.” She grins at one of the guards who remains stone-faced and professional. “Thank you, by the way,” she says to Bastion. “For this,” she gestures to the monkeys and Guillem, fully aware the monkeys are behaving due to Bastion, though she isn’t sure of the mechanism that tames them. “What is your name? Have you been a resident of Larket long?”

Bastion watched the boy with a smile. He was adorable, and the way his face lit up... all children were perfect. They were just born that way. "He is an incredible child. It's the least I can do, Your Majesty. My name is Bastion, and I'm afraid I'm not a resident. I'm a peasant monk, and I'm on a pilgrimage of great labors. I travel all around the land, working side by side with the common folk, and observing my vows. Poverty, Peace, Truth." For now, at least. He was sure more would come, in time. "Ah, I would like to offer my services, if ever you are in need. I offer them to all who would partake of them. I'm sure you've no need of extra laborers, however, I'm also practiced in acupuncture, chiropracty, and massage. It's been my experience that the stresses of rulers are the stresses of their subjects, so if I may help you to relax and ease your woes for a time, I'd consider it my duty to do so." It was a service he offered, and the one he was most taken up on, mostly to the commonfolk. Hard workers, with aches and pains in their muscles... but he knew that the stresses her Majesty were under were probably quite considerable. There was no deception in his offer, no ulterior motives than the ones he claimed to have, but it was easy to suspect, when in the position of a targeted ruler.

Josleen mouths the word ‘ah’ as Bastion explains who he is. “Oh? What is acupuncture all about? I’ve only heard of it in passing. Needles? How is that relaxing?” Guillem notices that the monkeys have lots of bananas in their feeder. “Oh no,” he says. He sets his hands to his hips and shakes his head. “Eating bananas will turn you into a faerie.” Josleen burns bright red as her son imitates his grandmother, the King’s mother, Augusta Jauzon, whose homophobia sails right over the toddler’s head. Guillem, in his innocence, believes eating bananas will turn you into a literal faerie with wings and magic. One guard in particular stiffens and glares into the middle distance, rethinking his employment.

Bastion turns beet red with his attempt to not laugh out loud at Guillem's observations and imitations. Smiling, he keeps his focus on Josleen. "Acupuncture is, indeed, the medicinal use of needles. Targeting key nerves, and channels along which a person's life energy flows, I inject small amounts of my own Ki to stabilize and encourage the healthy flow of energies throughout the body. This creates feelings of calm, peace, and relaxation. It's capable of more extreme sensations of sedation, even paralyzation, depending on how it is employed. It use an aura use of my Ki that pacifies the animals around us, and makes them open to suggestions, sort of like a charming magic. Using touch, or especially my needles, I am capable of far more potent versions of such things. In fact, I employ these principles in combat, using a style known as the Gentle Fist. This martial art causes no harm to the opponent, only pacifying them by calming or sedating them, while avoiding damage to the self. I have found that those with much on their mind find acupuncture to be helpful in the extreme."

Josleen nods along as she learns more of Bastion’s beliefs and practices. “It’s nice to meet someone without any tolerance for violence. So few people are pacifist when push comes to shove. I’d be interested in trying some of your calming techniques. As you can imagine, I have quite a few worries.” She pauses and takes a breath in a way that signals the meeting is coming to a close. “I should take my leave.” She calls out to her son. It takes some goading, but eventually he begins to say goodbye to each monkey one by one, by name, shaking each of their little hands as he does so. “Come to the fort sometime in the afternoon during Guillem’s nap, Bastion. I’d like to give you something from Larket to honor your pilgrimage.”

Bastion gives a polite bow to Josleen, as she takes Guillam and begins her departure. "As you will, Your Majesty. I will be sure to call upon you at a most convenient hour." He had said that his eyes saw things few could understand... but in truth, it went far further than that. He'd be able to see when Guillarm laid down for his nap, by checking in once in a while from a distance.