Closed A Time to Wait (Poison)

[Vetari Violet]

The 55th Day of Autumn, 513 AV A bracing chill brought Vetari to his senses as he knelt alone in the Temple of Viratas. His palms pointed to the black cave ceiling, his white hair falling about his knees as he slouched over, muttering quietly to himself in his mother tongue. "By nature, by love, by creed, by the will of gods the chains of blood are made.” If nothing else, Vetrai knew how to pray. And he did, as he had done ever since he learned of his true parentage on his 8th Harvest Festival. Today was his 21st, and he was not about to give up on the tradition he had built for himself. He had prepared himself for this since early morning, before Daratur had woken, dressing himself and making himself clean in the underground streams that flowed beneath the mountain. On any other day he would have gone to the baths, but they were not as close to Viratas as the streams. The streams were the blood of the mountain. "The life of the body is in the blood, and it is the blood that binds the soul and flesh. For by blood comes atonement and mercy." Dressing, he had stolen away into the temple to conduct his secret service, in honor of his mother and in hope for his father. Though the ceremony had evolved since he was 8, the principal had stayed the same; the blood must be honored. He began with thanks to the Violet bloodline, which had so graciously taken him in when his father did not return from the Harvest. Second, he called out to his father, no matter how far away he might have been. He shouted prayers of calling, so that if they did not meet his father’s ears perhaps they would find the ears of one who might know him. Then he honored and mourned his mother, who sacrificed herself so that he might be born into the world. This took the longest, and was the most solemn of the ceremonies. Where the first parts saw praise, thanks and hope, the final saw only respect and understanding. "It is blood that keeps a creature from the agony of solitude. Isolation is lost in the offering and acceptance of blood's sacred chain.” He knew by now that Daratur would be awake, the man that had acted as his father for so many years. The man he aspired to be one day was modeled after him in most respects, as Vetari could think of no man more loved by Veratas or the Symenestra than his second father. He would soon be aiding them, his people, in preparing the welcoming ceremony for those that would return from the Harvest with their new mates at the Woven Gate. It was there that Vetari would wait until the moon reached its peak, awaiting his father’s return as he had done for so many years. His vigil would not be broken tonight. "Honor the chains you have begun and the kin who nourished you in your youth. There is no connection without surety and no strength without dedication. One who dishonors his ties makes his bed on the water." He smiled as he spoke the final words, the words he lived by, and rose silently as if he were as weightless as the smoke from the censures surrounding him. He took up the ceremonial dagger, razor sharp, from the great basin where all the Symenestra in Kalinor would spill their blood each Spring. He dug the knife into his palm, savoring the pain that came with the bite of the blade. The ties of blood are not without pain or struggle he reminded himself. And I do this for all those that came before me. He closed his hand around the blade, feeling it’s cold steel against the warm blood flowing from his palm to the basin. “I give this to you, my blood, Viratas. I give to you my vitae so that you may be strengthened. I give to you my lifesblood so that I might know the value of the chains that ever bind. I give to you the blood of those yet to come, those in the now, and those that came before. I give to you this gift that you once gave to me, that I might one day know my father.” As he finished the prayer he had so carefully constructed with the help of Daratur, he watched as the blood gathered near the edge of the basin, slowly flowing down the slope where the blood of Symenestra had been flowing for more than 5 centuries. I that moment he knew he was connected to every living soul that had ever stood in this great hall, and to all their ancestors and those that came before. ”As is the weight of my chains,” he nearly whispered, his breath stolen away by this great sense of connection as those final words closed his ceremony and sent his prayed down the tiny river of his own blood. His solitary rite had come to an end.

[Poison]

It was quiet in the Temple of Viratas. Later in the day the people of Kalinor would come to pray and visit their dead – all the people that had died since the founding had been buried here, under Viratas‘ watchful gaze – but for now Vetari was completely alone. There were only the spirits of his ancestors to keep him company. It was quiet in the Temple of Viratas, and it was cool. Normally it was warm here, as if the building was a living, breathing thing, but in this moment everything seemed to stand still. Even the pool in the very center of the temple didn’t emanate any warmth. It was as if it were waiting for something.

As Vetari cut himself, as his blood began to flow and mix with the blood of all those that had made a sacrifice before him , he felt something for a moment, a brief hint of something, a presence, at the edge of his awareness. If he turned around he would see a shadow, he could hear a voice whisper, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and then he was alone again. It seemed to be warmer in the temple now, as if his blood had been necessary to bring the temple back to life.

Another couple of chimes passed in utter silence, and then he could hear footsteps. „I thought that I would find you here“, he heard Daratur, his adoptive father, say. The priest of Viratas was in his late fourties. He had deep black hair that fell to his shoulders and red eyes. He was not a handsome man, not in the traditional sense, but there was something about him. Today he wore a crimson silk robe. The red chain, the mark of Viratas was clearly visible on his arm.

„I am truly blessed. There are two people that will take care of the temple when I finally leave this world. I hope you don’t mind that I listened to your prayer.“

Daratur slowly came closer.

The young man in front of him and he were not biologically related, but as far as Daratur was concerned he was his son. Sometimes, when he was alone, Daratur imagined that, if he had succeeded in protecting Senesea, if she had stayed and not run away to the surface, their children would have been like Vetari.

There was no connection between the woman he had secretly loved for years, that he still loved even though she was long dead now and him, but something about Vetari reminded him of her.

Senesea had often come to the temple in the early bells of the morning to pray so that she would be alone, just like him.

[Vetari Violet]

A chill ran up Vetari’s spine. He felt he was not alone, not while connected to the ancestor spirits like this. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow move. He turned, and it was as if nothing was ever there. A near-silent whisper came from behind him, completely incomprehensible but oddly familiar. He spun again, only to hear footsteps approaching from the main entrance. When he looked he saw Daratur, his adoptive father and Priest of Viratas entering the room. Vetari smiled as he spoke, finding bandages to wrap his hand. “How could I mind?” he said with a soft chuckle. “You helped me write it. And for that I thank you, father.” And that much was true, except perhaps the last few lines prior to the closing words. Though he knew they were not of blood relation, Vetari felt as if their bond was stronger than those commonly shared from father to son. He had seen how cruel some human traders had been to their sons when visiting Kalinor, and he knew in his blood and bones that Daratur would never do such things to him. Though he longed to know his blood father, he could not ask that he be any better than Daratur. He had raised Vetari as well as any son could hope to be raised, and he was not even truly of the Violet Web. For that, Vetari could offer nothing but thanks and devotion to the family and the god he held so dear. As well as the occasional church donation. Vetari wrapped his bleeding palm, savoring the quiet stabs of pain that went along with the preparation. He knew the pain was there for a reason, placed there by Viratas to remind all that could bleed the value of their blood. Vetari’s understanding of the concept went beyond the physiological importance and into the philosophical and religious. He wrapped his hand tightly, binding his precious blood inside him. Today was an important day, he could feel it. Though the air of mystery had left the temple, he knew something would happen today. He smiled despite himself with hope that his father might return today. It was his hope for every Harvest Festival, though for the first time since his childhood he truly believed it was possible.

[Poison]

As Vetari thanked him for his help in writing the prayer, Daratur inclined his head. For a few moments the priest didn’t say anything, but simply knelt down in front of the pool of blood as well. From within his robe he removed a small silver knife and quickly slashed across his palm with it. “Moz seh krevas dav'ene obris zhevat”, he whispered in Symenos as he held his bleeding hand over the pool. “May this blood give greater life.”

He closed his eyes and stayed in that position for a few chimes, and then he cleaned his knife, wrapped a bandage around his hand that was still bleeding a little and turned to face his adopted son. Vetari could see that Daratur had a few scars on his hands and arms, from years of sacrifices. He could have used his gift, Silakrov, to heal them or approached a chosen of Rak’keli, but for Daratur the scars were a sign of his dedicaiton to his god, something to be proud of.

“I did not come here to listen to your prayer”, he spoke. “Although I enjoyed it. You have come far since you first came into my life. I have come to you because I want to ask something of you, of you and Sari who shall join us soon. As you know the Harvest Festival will take place soon. Silenva, the daughter of our ruling couple seems to think it appropriate to turn such an occasion into a costume party.”

“The return of our Harvesters is of course a reason to celebrate – I will take part in the festivities myself – but we most not forget Viratas, the one who has given us life. He must be honored as well. The day after Silenva’s masquerade I will hold a mass for the Harvesters and for all citizens of Kalinor, and I will need your help.“

[Vetari Violet]

Vetari sat in silence, waiting for Daratur to finish his prayer. When he spoke again, Vetari nodded in recognition. He had heard about the masked ball as soon as it hit the public ear, as people often came to his fortune telling tent with news and gossip. He had decided to attend, and had commissioned the weavers to create a costume for him. They had likely already finished it, and Vetari made a note to himself to return to them to try it on, so they could make any necessary adjustments before the big day arrived. The next words that sprung from Daratur’s lips caught him by surprise. Me? Participating in one of the Festival Rites? It sounded too good to be true. His jaw hung slack as he began to comprehend the task set before him. As soon as he was able to form a sentence in his mind, he forced his lips into motion. ”Why, yes, of course. I would be honored to help with the mass in any way I can.” His mind sputtered to life, weighing the truths that sat before him. He was going to be conducting one of the most important rites to his god that there was, at one of the most important cultural events his people had to offer. The thought was daunting to someone who hadn’t ever been much of a public speaker, but his devotion pressed him to action. This was the special something today had to offer him. This was his life changing opportunity.

[Poison]

Just as Vetari had told Daratur that he would help him with the mass, a woman entered the central chamber. In the relative silence of the temple her footsteps seemed unusually loud. She was young, only about Vetari’s own age, with porcelain skin, long black hair and eyes of liquid gold. She wore a white silk robe, and her feet were bare. On her right arm he could see the red chain, the mark of Viratas. She had been marked once by their patron god.

She spoke a brief prayer in Symenos before she approached the two men.

Daratur turned around and smiled at her. „Ah, Sari“, he said to her. „It’s good that you are here. I’ve just told Vetari about the mass we are going to hold on the last day of the Harvest Festival. You will both assist me.“ Sari nodded and turned to Vetari. „I will be glad to be working together with Daratur’s son“, she remarked. Daratur seemed to be happy to hear that.

„There has never been a mass specifically for the Harvest Festival“, Daratur continued. „This is the first time. I want you to to come up with ideas on how to best unite the love for our god and the return of the Harvesters with their surrogates.“

A very light shadow passed across his face as he said the word „surrogates“. Daratur did not like the fact that his people had to abduct innocent women, but he did not protest openly, like the Esterians. The practice was evil, but a necessary evil. The extinction of the Symenestra race would be much worse.

„I want this mass to be special, and I want both of you to take on greater responsibilities.“

[Vetari Violet]

Vetari nearly bowed at the honor of being given such a task. What sort of part might I play in this great rite? he wondered as Sari entered the room. He smiled at her, bowing slightly in thanks as she complemented him. Though he hadn’t spent much time alone with her, Sari had proven to be a kind girl and a devout follower of his patron god, and that was good enough to get on his good side. “What sort of responsibilities would you think appropriate, Father?” he asked, respectful but curious. He could scarcely imagine a sermon without Daratur conducting it, let alone putting himself in Daratur’s place! He liked people, that much was true, but he was unaccustomed to public speaking. He had memorized the Viratassa, that much was true, but he did not think simple readings and interpretations worthy of such a grand event. He had to do something original, something worthy of his god and of his people. Inspiration struck, remembering a line from his own prayers he had spoken chimes before. “Perhaps we can bring together the old and the new. By returning with their surrogates, our hunters assure new life for our people. But they cannot forget where they came from…” He walked around the great pool, as warm as the day the blood was first spilt as if it was still alive. He kneeled beside it, fingers hovering less than an inch above the surface. “This blood is blessed of Viratas, given freely so that greater life could come from it. This generation and every generation hereafter IS that greater life. …perhaps we should partake in the blood of our ancestors, so the children might have stronger blood, strengthened by Viratas and by the good will and sacrifice of our ancestors. Both the men and the surrogates should partake, I think… What do you say, father?” he asked, looking up and searching for approval.

[Poison]

„I want you to speak to the people of Kalinor as I usually do“, Daratur replied as Vetari asked him what kind of responsibilities he had meant. „As I told you, I will not always be there. My hope is that you will follow in my footsteps one day and become a priest, a chosen of Viratas as well. I want the people of Kalinor to know you, better than they know you now. And Sari as well of course.“ He looked at the young acolyte. „I want you to prepare a short sermon fo the Harvest Festival as well.“

Sari nodded. „I will be honored, Daratur“, she replied. She was about to say something when she heard Vetari’s suggestion. „Partake in the blood of our ancestors?“ she asked and cast an uncertain look at Daratur. This was a most unusual suggestion. Did he really mean what she thought he had meant? Nobody had ever touched the pool in the blood before …

Daratur though did not look uncertain at all. He looked thoughtfully at his son for a moment, and then he remarked, „Do you mean to suggest that we drink the blood of our ancestors so that we become one with them once more? It has never been done before, but I’ve often wondered whether the blood has special powers and whether it contains some of the memories of those that came before us …“

He remembered that he had once knelt besides the pool with his beloved Senesea. They had wondered about the same things. She had asked him why they never drank from the pool when blood was such an integral part of the worship of Viratas. Sometimes he wondered whether she had secretly snuck into the temple and taken a sip … she had avoided him for a while after their conversation …

„I think this would set a strong sign. We must not forget our roots. Our society is not what it used to be. We must remember our forefathers that gave their life for us.“

Daratur’s voice was very firm as he said that. He had been an idealist, a revolutionary when he had been young. Maybe it was time to bring some of that old spirit back, to honor the memory of their ancestor’s … and Senesea’s memory …

„But the surrogates … of course we could get them out of the Nest and make sure that they stay calm, but some people will disapprove. How will you explain their presence to them? They are not normally involved in such important rituals.“

[Vetari Violet]

He rose, listening to each of his companions praise and criticize his suggestion. He smiled a little, enjoying the morally dubious conversation. It had been a while since he’d had a good debate, and he wanted to put his philosophy to the fire. If it stood against their criticism, perhaps he was to be something of importance in this community yet. “It comes simple to me, truly. Though the surrogates do not normally partake in our sacred rituals, they are as much a part of the future as the fathers are. If they are to create a strong future for our children they must have some connection to our past, lest their children yet be further removed from our tree-dwelling ancestors.” He gulped, mildly nervous. Though he enjoyed argument, he tended to get stage fright even when nobody was watching. “I think the surrogates should have the blood of the past within them if they are to give birth to the future of our race. We do not know what effect the blood will have on them…but I have the itching feeling in the back of my mind that it will be good or their children. With the blood of Viratas surging through their veins, perhaps our people can become stronger and more numerous than before.” Now he was getting dreamy, the idea of his people returning to the strength they once held in the tales of old. Perhaps this would be the decision that changed Kalinor forever. Perhaps this was how the abandoned city became fruitful and populated once more. He saw images of young ones climbing across the cavernous ceilings of Kalinor, new silk bridges in a myriad of colors trailing off to different destinations all throughout the mountain cave. He saw mothers who didn’t have to die for their young. He saw his people flourish. “All blood is sacred, is that not so? The blood of the surrogates is as real and as holy as the blood of the Symenestra. Why shouldn’t they be part of this ceremony if they are helping us build our future at the cost of their lives? It is unusual, yes. It’s unorthodox. However, doing what we’ve always done will not bring progress to our people. We must try new avenues if we are to move forward and survive this cruel and uncertain world we live it.” He swallowed again, looking from his father to Sari expectantly, waiting for them to weigh in on the topic of conversation.

[Poison]

„You are of course right“, Daratur replied. „The surrogates are part of our future. They give birth to our children – even if few in our society see them as the mothers – but after they have sacrificed their lives we discard them like trash. Maybe that is the solution.“ He looked at the pool of blood thoughtfully. „Maybe the answer to the questions that trouble our people so can be found in this blood. Maybe it is time to honor the women we take from the surface. Maybe a few drops of blood can strengthen those that come after us and keep our people from dying.“

He turned back to his son and looked directly into his eyes. „I will support you, Vetari, rest assured, but you need to be aware that there will some people who will complain, who will do more than complain, who will call involving the surrogates in such a sacred act blasphemy. Are you ready for that? There will be people who will applaud you for your bravery, but just as many will become your enemies.“

He hoped that this wouldn’t deter Vetari, but it had been necessary to tell him. Once, a few decades ago, Daratur – and Senesea – had had similar ideas, but they had given in, given up because they had been too afraid of the consequences. He had held Kalinor together since he had become a priest, but the revolution he had desired in his youth had never come. He hoped that Vetari would be braver than he had been, but a small part of him was worried for his son.

„Maybe we need to change in order to survive“, he murmurred and turned to Sari who had quietly listened to their conversation. „What do you think, Sari?“ he asked her. „Will you join us?“ The young woman looked even more uncertain than before. She didn’t answer immediately, but touched the mark of Viratas on her arm. „If the two of you think that the consequences will be worth it, I will be at your side“, she finally decided. “Maybe we will be able to change the future of our people.“