Completed A Fragile Existence

[Kanri]

36th Day of Summer, 512 AV
Crafts Gallery

'Glasswork, no matter how magnificent or simply, how clear or colorful, how smooth or jagged, can break with more ease than a sleep has moved to wake. Such a fragile existence and a risky livelihood. If one work of glass were to shatter or break, it would be no surprise. If all of them were to be shattered over the course of a night, there were would much anguish.'

Kanri arrived at the archway to the Crafts Gallery a little late that morning, having slept in accidentally. She had agreed to help her mother that day assemble a window that was going out with a group of traders that were planning on returning to Wind Reach sometime soon, though she was loathe to admit she hadn't really minded the details. She expected the usual orderly, calm environment that was condusive to crafting work. Instead, she found utter chaos, with a sprinkling of shouting.

Glass shards blanketed the floors and shelves, like newly fallen snow. A path had been shoveled through the Craft Gallery clearing a path to walk on to navigate the messy hall. There were some Inartans crying quietly over the destroyed glasswork. A few Chiets and Deks were already going about cleaning up the mess while some angry individuals were being soothed. Kanri felt a mixture of surprise, anguish, and disgust rise in her immediately. It was like stomping on a field of butterflies and leaving their carcasses in a pile... then calling it a grand achievement. Disgusting! And who would do such a thing? Who would so systematically destroy those fantastic works of art so dear to the Inarta? If they had a glass collection of their own, Kanri was absolutely ready to smash theirs.

She picked her way carefully down the shoveled or swept path, moving towards where she thought she would find her mother working. Or cleaning. Kanri's eyes hopefully searched all the corners of the room for a piece of glass that had not been destroyed, looking towards corners and walls that had once held complex work-in-progress pieces. She found them all empty. And yet, there were some painters and weavers already at work, trying to ignore the carcasses of glass works that lay dead all around them. How could they sit their so calmly and work while their beloved glassworks had been destroyed?

Kanri found herself growing progressively more restless and angry, as well as more horrified and miserable, as she searched for her mother. She would be crying over the loss of such beautiful works too, but she would also be very calm and know just what to say to make this all better. Then, Kanri shook her head and realized she couldn't rely on her mother to help her get through this. She needed to figure out who or what smashed the works, and why, on her own... or with the first group of investigators she could gather.

[Krysanthe]

It was ruined. It was all destroyed. Gone. Just like that. Krys had been having a good morning. She woke up a little earlier than she normally did, feeling alert and energized. She took her time getting ready for the day, and even made her bed. She brushed her hair, and despite the fact that it was being less than agreeable, managed to put it in a style that looked decent, taking the time to braid in some of her beads. It was a good morning, and she looked forward to a good day. She always loved going to work, for when one is passionate about something, it’s not really ‘work’ at all. It felt a lot more like play. Making things out of glass wasn’t Krysanthe’s livelihood. It was her life. It was everything to her. She just got lost in the art of it all. She dove in head first to her creations and didn’t resurface until she had art. Her pieces reflected her emotions, the pain of the hole that was forever etched into her heart, only partly filled by small friendships and empty memories. She had her teardrop vase. She had the vase with two handles, one of her first pieces using bitwork. She had the figurine of the hawk, of which she had intended to give to her friend since time in the nursery. Sure, Vaas was blind, but his red-tailed hawk, Wind Dancer, was a bit of an egomaniac as far as Krys was concerned. The gift was more for the bird than her friend, but what could she say? Her trade wasn’t exactly one for the visually impaired. That being said, she loved everything she did, and now, to come to the crafts gallery and find everything destroyed, well, it killed her inside. Her initial reaction was shock. She rushed to look around the remnants, searching for something, anything that was still intact. She felt as though she was not carefully rummaging through broken glass, but rather wading in the skeletons of her pride and joy. It was gone. Ruined. Destroyed. All of it. Just like that. Then the anger set in. Krysanthe didn’t get angry often, but when she did, there was not much anyone could do to hold her back. She had a temper, as many of the Inarta did, and it burned in the deepest edges of her soul. If she ever found out who did this, she wanted to take a shard of the glass they destroyed and slice it across their throat. This was her life. This was her home. This was her sanctuary. And it was destroyed. All of it. Gone. Forever. Fuming, Krys bent down, picking up a piece that looked like it had once been an ornate vase, made by a master judging by the quality of the chunk. It was broken in half, but still maintained what looked like a semi-circle. The anger grew as she examined the broken edges, the cracks in it, the damage done that could not be fixed. With a yell of rage, she found her target, a nearby wall, and threw the piece of glass as hard as she could against the stone surface. It shattered and fell to the ground. She clenched her fists, appalled by these events, furious, and stared at where she had thrown the glass. It was lucky no one was too close to her, or they would have gotten some shard embedded into their skin. Of course a moment after she threw it, the depression threw itself onto her. Soon enough, Krys sunk to her knees, ignoring any pieces of stray glass that made their home in her legs. She put her elbows on her thighs and rested her head in her hands, mourning the death of her artwork. It was gone. It felt like the end of the world for her. Her hair fell over her face and she melted into the sea of angry and depressed and hopeless artisans. This was not how she had planned her day to go.

[Kanri]

Kanri continued to wander through the Craft Gallery, looking for any clues to what might have happened, though she worried she would easily miss something. She found a woman kneeled on the floor with no one around to comfort her. Her fierce determination faded a little. Unsure of how to approach her, Kanri slowly came foward and bent over a litte, but not too closely so not to startle her. The woman's knees were bleeding a little from some stray shards of glass in them.

Now, what to say? She couldn't ask her "are you alright?" because she clearly wasn't. She couldn't say "everything will work out" because they weren't sure it would. At a loss for words, Kanri gently lay her hand on the woman's back, hoping she wouldn't get hit or yelled out. The woman reacted a little so Kanri decided to speak.

Although when she spoke too rashly, disaster often followed...

"I want to find out what happened. Will you please help me?" Kanri stammered quietly. The request sounded scared, shy, and uncertain. However, it was a determined request. "I don't even know where to start... but I maybe if we work together, we will figure something out. We could ask around to see if anyone noticed anything. Or maybe that isn't a good idea..."

Kanri trailed off again and realized how uncertain she was. She wished she had a clearer picture of what had happened. Had she slept through the volcano acting up? Or had someone come in a smash all the glasses? Maybe, she hated to think, a bird got out of control and crashed into everything. But what bird was smart enough to systematically smash everything? Kanri grinded her teeth. This was hopeless... nearly...

[Saphtir]

After some short weeks in this city, Saphtir was still coming to know the layout of the strange mountain halls. She had not explored far, rarely going more than a short land-bound journey from the nearest courtyard. When a place was open to the sky, she could visit easily, flying from one courtyard to another alongside the eagles and falcons that flew here and there. But traveling any real distance into the tunnels was quite difficult, and she disliked being so far from the open sky. She set down this day in a courtyard she had not visited before, her multicolored wings fluttering gently to lower her to the ground. She glanced around, turning this way and that, holding her composition book with both arms against her chest. She was uncertain where to go, or what to do from here. She wished only to learn more of this new place, and see all of the sights. After a moment, she noticed a number of passerby heading in the same direction, and she tilted her head curiously. Wondering what drew them forth, she began moving towards them, tucking her book into the pack slung diagonally across her shoulders and hanging at her waist. She then began pulling herself forward, leaning her hands down on the ground and pushing off with her tail to move forward at a slow, lurching pace. It took her quite some time, moving at such a slow crawl, to catch up to where the others gathered. She came around a corner, and hid half behind the wall, her hands clutching to the door frame of the entry way. What she saw, she didn't understand, eyes wide and staring at the chaos before her. Shattered glass, broken dreams... sparkling destruction laid out everywhere. So beautiful, so deadly, so dark. She jumped as she heard a new shattering sound, hiding further behind the doorway, clinging to the stone and shrinking back. There were angry people in there. Hurt. Lost. Someone had wounded them, cut into their hearts. She leaned down and retrieved a single shard of glass. It was long and narrow, and reminded her of a feather. She held it up to her eyes, peering through the translucent glass, which was colored red. With it before her eyes, the room of broken glass was bathed in blood, and it stained all of those before her. She sighed and tucked the single glass shard gently into her pack. A memory of what she saw today. Then she retrieved her book, and settled against the doorway. She had come here to record the beauty of this place. To learn of its wonders, and set them to music. But there were no wonders today. Only sadness. Yet that sadness had a sound, one of shattered glass and sobbing hearts. She would record it. Preserve this moment forever in song. Let it become a memory she could share with those who had not seen this tragedy. Let the words carry this pain and sorrow beyond the moment, beyond today, that none would forget. Not having yet noticed that the girl she met the other day was among the mourners, she quietly began to write, searching out the beginnings of a song: Shattered pieces on the floor... Works of art, they are no more... Shattered fragments of what was... Now all lost, now all lost... Now lost to us forever more... Shattered glass upon the floor... Once great works that were adored... Shattered memories of the past... What is the cost, what is the cost...? The price we pay, we can't ignore... Shattered hopes upon the floor... To be reforged nevermore... Shattered pieces of our love... Upon waves tossed, upon waves tossed... Now to leave us all heartsore...

[Krysanthe]

Feeling someone touch her shoulder, Krys jumped a bit from being surprised, but beyond that, did nothing. She didn’t even look up. Still, she was very aware that she was being watched now, and made certain to better contain her emotions, although it was difficult in a situation such as this. The voice, however, she had not expected. It was a young voice. A voice of someone that had not yet known the cruelties of the world. A voice of someone no older than 15. A voice that seemed very damaged that something terrible could ever happen in her home. A voice that seemed sheltered. A voice that didn’t know. Krys looked up to see who his child was, finding herself looking at some Yasi, with an odd determined gleam in her eyes. What did this girl possibly have in mind? What, were they going to gather a bunch of people and start a make shift investigation and track down the fiend that destroyed the glass and bring them to justice? Ha. That would certainly be a child’s dream. Krys sighed. Who was she to take that away? The red headed woman took her eyes away from the Yasi, focusing on standing up, brushing off glass from her knees. None of the shards had really broken enough skin to cause any concern. She sighed, putting a hand on her neck and looking up, as though she was suddenly very tired and needed a stretch. She wondered why her attitude changed so quickly, from the fury to the sadness, and now suddenly she was calm. Perhaps it was just her defense mechanism, blocking out any unwanted comfort from anyone, or perhaps it was just the fact that she was talking to a Yasi and a part of her didn’t want to make this experience any more traumatic than it already was. Krys was a Yasi not long ago. She knew what it was like to be that innocent. She looked back at Kanri and shrugged her shoulders, finally speaking. “Why not?” She stated, looking around at all the distraught artists. Even if it was a silly little child’s dream, these people deserved at least closure. Everyone deserved closure. Maybe that was something they could provide.

[Kanri]

The woman Kanri was trying to comfort finally stood up and addressed her. Kanri felt relieved. She didn't want to be called a silly child, even if that's how she viewed herself. She was glad someone was willing to chance her crazy plan... well, it wasn't much of a plan yet.

Kanri supposed the first plan was to ask around. Or maybe report the incident to someone. However, everyone in the room looked so distraught, except for the other crafters. It wasn't fair they could just go back to their work like nothing had happened! But at the same time, it wasn't their problem. I mean, Kanri was sure they felt bad about the incident too. They were Inartans too and they understood the importance of glasswork. However, it wasn't fair to make them put down their own valuable work to search for revenge. Kanri put away her scorn for them and tried to think out who to ask.

Then, a strange but warm music began to float into the craft room a little bit. Though it was still a foreign tune made up on the spot, the sound was familiar to her now. A sly little smile creeped on her face. Now she would have two people to help her. She asked the woman to follow her.

"I'm Kanri, by the way. Thank you for helping me," Kanri said to the woman as she walked back to the entrance of the Craft Gallery to the source of the foreign music haunting voice. She was not about to forget it.

"Saphtir!" she greeted the foreigner who had become her friend. Kanri just felt better knowing there were people willing to help her. She hoped that her optimistic mood was not too inappropriate for the investigation. "I like that song too. It's very good. Do you have any idea what happened here? Did you see or hear anything suspicious?" Kanri asked her.

She turned to the woman who was going to help her organize an investigation and explained how she knew the harp-playing foreigner. "When Saphtir came to Wind Reach and started playing and chalk drawing, I listened to her performance. So we became friends."

[Saphtir]

Saphtir was briefly stuck on what the next line of the song should be. She frowned, staring at the page, not consciously aware that she had been humming the tune she was forming out loud. It was still just an idea, a scattering of notes, no more than the way she heard it in her head. It would take refinement and revision before she considered it near complete. Yet those drifting, unfinished notes she hummed drew attention to her. She glanced up and saw one of the few people she knew in Wind Reach approaching. For a moment she feared she was in trouble; the outsider, the one who was different, could just be blamed for this. But then the girl addressed her in the same friendly manner she had upon the day they meant, and the Akvatari was relieved. She stared wide eyed for a moment as the girl asked her if she had seen anything. Then she sighed, her heart aching as she knew the girl was about to be let down, for she knew nothing. Her hand continued writing, the next verse of her song now coming to her as she realized she would have to disappoint her friend. Shattered wishes to know more... She spoke aloud in between her writing, giving a small shake of her head, "I'm sorry my friend..." A kind soul, she does implore... "But I know nothing of what happened here..." she sighed, giving a sad shake of her head. Shattered questions on the wind... "I wish that I had something to offer you..." The answers lost, the answers lost... "But I fear there may be no way to know what happened here..." All left to wonder, what was it for...?

[Krysanthe]

Krys followed Kanri silently, wary of where she stepped. “Krysanthe.” She responded simply when the girl thanked her, shrugging. Volunteering to partake in an investigation that would surely wind up nowhere was nothing that needed to be thanked for as far as Krys was concerned. Plus, if they did find anything, she figured she could be the first person to punch the culprit in the face, so that’s a bonus. So until then, she’d let this child lead the way down the path into uncertainty. They approached a woman like none Krysanthe had ever seen. She didn’t look at all human, and it was obvious that Krys wasn’t the only one who noticed. Even amidst the destruction, Saphtir managed to turn a few heads. She had wings that looked like they belonged on a butterfly. And she didn’t have legs. Just… a black blob of fur. What the petch was she? What was she doing in Wind Reach? Krysanthe wasn’t disgusted and she didn’t mean to believe that the woman didn’t belong among her people. It was just that Saphtir seemed so out of place here. She looked like someone who enjoyed open skies and open seas with the odd extremities she had, so what was she doing in the middle of a volcano? The curiosity only grew in her when she saw the woman write. What had Kanri said about a performance? Saphtir must be a musician the way she was humming earlier. So what was she writing? Krys was well aware that multitasking was all a part of an artisan’s job, but writing and carrying on a conversation was something that the glassblower would never be able to do. The two required completely different trains of thought, and keeping them straight would just be incredibly difficult. Needless to say, she was impressed. She wasn’t surprised when the woman admitted to knowing absolutely nothing. What else could they expect? They’d probably be better off looking around the area for some sign of who did this. Maybe a torn piece of fabric or feathers or blood or some other sort of debris that would be the result of breaking all this glass. They had to have left something behind. Still, Krys wasn’t putting her whole heart into the search, for she doubted anything would come of it anyways. For now, she had a strange specimen whom she had never seen, and she was determined to learn more about her. Instead of responding to Saphtir’s grim response, she instead addressed the book she was scribbling in. Speaking from pure curiosity, Krys asked “What are you writing?” From her voice, two things were very clear. One, this situation did quite a number on her for everything about her was cheerless. And two, she was genuinely curious. There was nothing malicious, nothing suspicious, nothing with poor intentions. She just wanted to know for the sake of knowing. But you know what they say about curiosity.

[Kanri]

Kanri felt sad as she heard Saphtir's response. What had she expected though? It wasn't as though Saphtir had just been sitting there all night watching the Craft Gallery. Kanri knew though that Saphtir would help them, given the opportunity.

That's when she noticed the unusual foreigner had turned some heads. Kanri suddenly felt mad at them. They shouldn't look at the first non-Inartan and point fingers at them! Just because she was not human did not mean she was a likely culprit! Kanri glared right back at a few of them, mentally shouting at them. "What are you looking at!?" They all to turned their heads away as if they had not been looking. "That's what I thought..." Kanri thought to herself.

She shook her head. They weren't necesarily blaming Saphtir for what had happened. They were staring because they never had seen one of her kind before. While it was still rude, Kanri would have found herself doing the same thing. It must have been the stress of the moment. She calmed her demeaner and started to glance around the room, now looking for any signs of what might have caused the damage instead of just surveying the scene.

Krysanthe asked Saphtir about her work, asking what she was writing. Kanri was happy to see her two allies were talking to each other. Kanri often found herself too shy or nervous to talk to new people and if she worked up the courage to say something, she sounded like a young fool.

OOCShould we ask a storyteller to tell us what we find in the Crafts Gallery on our search?

[Saphtir]

OOCThat's fine by me, if you want to. Saphtir became uncomfortable at all the stares she was receiving, cringing further back away from all the onlookers. Her wings fluttered nervously against her back, and she leaned down a bit on her hands, trying to make herself smaller. Though nothing more, so it seemed, than a sharp look from her friend cause all the onlookers to turn away. She offered Kanri a small smile of thanks, though she still felt quite uncomfortable. She knew she was the outsider here. She was the one who didn't belong. Most especially within the halls themselves. She had come here to see the wonders outdoors; the lakes, the mystical grottoes, and the great birds that ruled the skies here. But whenever she was inside, beneath the stone of the mountain, she felt as though she did not fit here. She looked up at the second girl, clutching her book protectively to her chest. "It... is just a song," she whispered, hoping that the woman would not wish to take it away. "This tragedy... it breaks my heart so..." She sniffled slightly as tears welled in her eyes, her wings drooping sadly. "I... I simply thought... perhaps..." She glanced around the broken dreams all across the room. "Perhaps if I capture this moment, it can be relived by others. That such tragedy cannot ever be forgotten..."