Ode to the Seer

by **Ianthe** on August 23rd, 2014, 3:06 am

Ode to the Seer

Timestamp: 77th Day of Summer, 514 AV
Location: Ianthe's Cottage/The Starry Night

"Natra. Batra. Vatra. Matra?"

Ianthe tapped the feathered quill against her chin as she exaggerated the length and sound of each syllable. Goddess, how could she have known that it would be so difficult to find a word that rhymed with Natra?

"There's got to be something," she muttered, drumming her free hand against the wooden table's surface. "Fatra. Hatra. Cat...ra." Perfect. Not a single word in the history of words rhymed with the last name of Mura's legendary seer. Way to think that one through, linguists.

This was going to go wonderfully.

The small cottage seemed oddly quiet in spite of Ianthe's frequent mumbling, and the konti found herself glancing up more than once to look for Cleodora. It always took her a moment to remember that her daughter was staying at Nephele's before she was able to re-focus on the task at hand.

The task that was going rather poorly, if she was being truthful. No matter. She would simply write down what she had so far and see where that left her. Ianthe smoothed out the piece of paper in front of her and dipped the quill lightly into a vial of black ink. She then pressed the tip of the quill against the page and began to write.

There once was

She paused and lifted her quill, glancing upward at the ceiling. Where was she going with this?

Right.

There once was a konti named Natra

Okay, good start. She would set the scene and give everyone an idea of her subject matter.

Who

Who... what?

Who followed

Yes, good.

Who followed her Call

Good, good...

to

To...?

to Sylira.

"Natra. Sylira."

Petch it, that was close enough. Ianthe dipped her quill back into the vial, wincing as a small inkblot pooled on the upper corner of her page.

"Whose bright idea was it to sign me up for this poetry reading, anyway?"

by **Ianthe** on August 23rd, 2014, 7:52 pm

"All right, what do we have so far?" muttered Ianthe. She left her quill in the vial of ink and scanned the page in front of her with a critical eye. Her writing was not the neatest - without lines on the page, each word seemed to slant upward and to the right, resulting in a diagonal bend to the poem.

~~There once was~~ There once was a konti named Natra
~~Who~~ ~~Who followed~~ Who followed her Call to to Sylira

Not bad, but she couldn't exactly present a two-line poem to her peers. She would need at least five lines in order for it to be even half-way acceptable. In her lifetime of experience with poetry - which, admittedly, was quite limited - poems were either short and sweet or long, epic affairs. Her ambitious side urged her toward the epic, but she was already cutting it much too close. The poetry reading would begin just after sun down, which meant she only had another bell or two to go before an appearance would be necessitated.

Two bells. Three more lines.

Ok, Ianthe. Time to put on your game face.

"There once was a konti name Natra, who followed her Call to Sylira," Ianthe repeated aloud. While she knew the very basics of Kuvali Natra's life (since it was, after all, a significant piece of konti culture), she was not nearly well-versed enough in the details.

Well, she would simply have to push on with the little that she did know.

She helped out the humans

A truth, which was an excellent start. But what rhymed with humans? Goddess, this was Natra all over again. "Humans... voomans... tomb ends..."

No, nothing yet.

"Gloomans... Wooomans?"

Ianthe dipped her quill back into the ink before striking out the word humans from her page and replacing it with people.

She helped out the ~~humans~~ people

There. Much better. So many more words rhymed with people.

So we built her a

A...

steeple

"Did we build her a steeple?" Ianthe mumbled, fairly certain that that her city only built steeples for the Divine. Maybe they'd created a statue in her honour?

Close enough.

To always commemorate

Ooh, nice word choice!

To always commemorate Natra.

Brilliant.

by **Ianthe** on August 28th, 2014, 2:08 am

Satisfied, Ianthe placed the quill neatly on the table beside her poem and capped the vial of ink. Now all she had to do was wait for the ink to dry... which would take approximately much too long. A quick glance outside told her that the sky was beginning to purple; it would soon be time for the poetry reading to begin, and she had not even left her house. She smoothed a rogue wrinkle from her dress and jiggled her foot nervously. If there was one thing that never failed to stress her out, it was being late.

Ianthe rubbed a hand along the scales on her cheek and looked down at her poem. The ink seemed to glisten less than it had a chime ago. That was good, right? Maybe if she blew on it... Ianthe gathered a breath deep into her lungs and blew heavily down on the paper, hitting the ink in the first tick before causing the page to go skittering across the table.

Good enough.

In one fell swoop, the konti grabbed the poem, kicked back her chair, and raced out of the cottage.

---

It didn't take long for Ianthe to realize that she didn't know exactly where The Starry Night was. She had a general idea of its location, but she also had a history of only visiting the writer's haven on special occasions much like this one. Ten long chimes of wandering the outskirts of Mura like an idiotic stray dog passed by before Ianthe finally spotted the building - and only then because of the silvery stones that made it undeniably unique.

"If you can imagine it, you can create it," Ianthe murmured, glancing up at the sign above the entrance. She had no idea who had first said it, but had no further time to contemplate the question as a line of konti began to politely pile up behind her.

Right. The door.

A small bell dinged as Ianthe pushed open the plain door and stepped into The Starry Night's interior. Without any further delay, she strode forward and followed the flow of women into the charming back garden where the reading was being held.

The garden's beauty never failed to take Ianthe's breath away, and this was most especially true at sunset. The vibrant plants, gravel plants, and sparkling ponds were all illuminated with a warm glow from the fading sun, bathing the garden in gold. She was reminded of paradise, and gratitude swelled within her for her homeland. Ianthe's eyes didn't leave her surroundings until she came to the middle of the garden where the round stage lay. With some effort, she squeezed carefully past several seated spectators to claim her own stone seat near the middle of the audience.

And just in time, too.

Lanterns lit up the stage, illuminating the shadow of the konti who stepped front and center. Her long, pale blonde hair was braided with flowers, and she was clothed in a flowing white dress that reached her sandalled feet. She stood quietly as she waited for the chatter and whispers to settle, and then clapped her hands together with smile.

"Welcome to The Starry Night!" the konti said, spreading her hands wide as if preparing to enclose the audience in an embrace. "Tonight, we come together as a people to celebrate the birth of our radiant sister, Kuvali Natra.

Let us begin."

by **Ianthe** on August 31st, 2014, 3:30 am

"My name is Cli'o Llewellyn, and I would be honoured to share with you the story of Kuvali Natra's rise to prominence." The konti woman glanced down at the stage to gather her thoughts before beginning her tale. When she looked back up at the audience, her sapphire eyes seemed to brighten and her expression became far more animated.

All around Ianthe, the spectators leaned almost imperceptibly forward in their seats. To her surprise, Ianthe realized she was doing the same. She half-grinned in admiration. She'd never before noticed how a simple change in one's facial expression could pull an audience into a story before it had even begun.

"Many years ago, on the 77th day of Summer, Kuvali Natra was born. She, like so many of us here tonight, was raised in Mura by an adoring mother who expected her daughter to lead a good, quiet, and peaceful life. And that Kuvali did - at least in the beginning." Cli'o began to walk slowly around the stage as she described the day-to-day life of the famous konti - her childhood, her interests, her familial relationships. Ianthe didn't know what was myth and what was fact, but she found herself quickly entangled in the story nonetheless.

"The 77th must have been an auspicious day, as Kuvali soon found that Avalis wanted her for greater things," Cli'o continued, stopping in the center of the stage as if to signify a turning point in the tale. "When Kuvali became an adult, our All-Seeing Mother 'Called' on her to bring Mura's legendary peace to others. She was 'Called' to serve as an advisor using her extraordinary gift, as many of us are asked to do. But this was not just any 'Call'..."

Ianthe watched carefully as the storyteller used gestures as a way to both pace herself and emphasize every important point. Perhaps she could use that technique in her own stories to keep people's interest.

"The 'Call' that Kuvali answered sent her off to Syliras - a city populated by humans and, of particular note, a strong faction of men and women that called themselves the Syliran Knights." The konti woman went on to describe Kuvali's harrowing adventures through Mizahar to reach the human city, as well as her initial meeting with the founders of the Syliran Knighthood. She spent several chimes describing Kuvali's relationship with Loris Dyres, much to the pleasure of the spectators. "Loris Dyres led the Syliran Knighthood at the time and was said to be a handsome man. It didn't take Kuvali long to find out exactly how handsome he was..." Cli'o said at one point, causing a titter to wash through the audience.

The sun sank lower and lower in the sky as Cli'o spun her tale, and soon the moon had taken its place. Ianthe, however, did not register this change, and was surprised to see the evening stars above them when the storyteller came to her conclusion.

"I hope that I have convinced you how important Kuvali Natra is to our history. We celebrate her birthday each year because she represents not only our strong link to Syliras and all of the konti who have served on their council since that time, but also our devoted Sisters who are 'Called' by Avalis to serve and protect countless others throughout Mizahar."

Ianthe joined the audience in a delighted round of applause while Cli'o curtsied graciously onstage.

"I would now like to call upon some of our resident poets - and a few special guests - to commemorate our lovely Sister through poetry and song."

by **Ianthe** on September 1st, 2014, 4:20 am

Ianthe's stomach flipped nervously as a succession of talented poets took to the stage. The first to follow Cli'o was a short konti woman with Rak'keli's sigil ornamenting the right half of her face. She sang a dulcet tune that she claimed to have recently written in Kuvali's honour. The song mostly emphasized Kuvali's righteousness and kindness toward the humans, though it also spent a surprising amount of time describing the Suvan Sea - enough so that Ianthe began to wonder if she should have included more adjectives in her own piece.

Simple can be good too, right? Straightforward and to the point. That's what the people like.

She couldn't help but notice, however, that the people really seemed to like the singer's adjectives. All, that is, except for one woman who sat right behind Ianthe and whispered bitterly to her friend about how the konti had "sung the same petching song last year".

The next konti to speak presented two poems, rather than just one. The first was a short piece that praised Avalis' wisdom and made a number of clever lily metaphors, causing several spectators to clasp a hand to their heart in solidarity and prayer. The second poem was an epic and surprisingly light-hearted. It focused on Kuvali's good deeds, and skillfully mixed legend with fact - not that Ianthe could tell. Regardless of the truths she told, the poet quickly won over the spectators and left the stage to a standing ovation.

And then it was Ianthe's turn.

When her name was called, Ianthe took a deep and steadying breath to calm her nerves. Five lines. She could do this. She stood, clutching the now-crumpled paper in her hand, and made her way up to the stage.

Do what the storyteller did, thought Ianthe, remembering Cli'o's long introduction. Confident voice, engaging expression, animated words.

"Hi everyone," she said, waving awkwardly to the shadowed spectators. "My name is Ianthe N'asira, and I'd like to share with you a short poem I wrote for this very special occasion. I call it 'Kuvali'".

She cleared her throat and unrolled the sheet of paper in her hand. "There once was a konti named Natra," she began with gusto, placing unnecessary verbal emphasis on every other word of the poem. "Who followed her Call to Sylira.

"She helped out the huma- sorry, I think that says people, so they built her a stee- steeple." Ianthe paused at the stumble, bit her lip, and then looked up from her page at the audience before her with a wide smile on her face. She would, at least, end on a high note. In a clear voice, she delivered her final line to the Starry Night.

"To always commemorate Natra!"

Ianthe was met with a quiet smattering of polite applause. Applause! Not booing, not hissing, not torches running her out of the Starry Night - applause. She raised her eyebrows cheerfully at the result. No matter how feigned it was, she would take it.

Maybe this poetry thing was all right, after all.