In Defense of Family

Kayalenki enters from the south.
She is followed by a large fire elemental.

You turn towards Kayalenki and place your palms together in front of your chest,
bowing respectfully.

A light rain wets your surroundings, falling pleasantly around you.

Kayalenki turns toward you and places her palms together in front of her chest,
bowing respectfully.

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "Raheno, ciahra."

Quietly, you say to Kayalenki, "Raheno."

Occasional raindrops fall on your head as the drizzle continues.

Drawing near to the edge of the pond, Kayalenki sits - the fire elemental
circles around her, drifting slowly, its light playing out across the
rain-stirred waters. Her legs crossed beneath her, she looks to you, hands
gathering in her lap. "It's a fine day," she notes. "We certainly need the
rain."

You have emoted: "Aye, it is that. And the rain pleasant." Melantha settles to
the ground on her heels, taking a seat a few armlengths from Kayalenki. After
falling silent for a time, she exhales in a quiet, gusty sigh. Without further
preamble, she says, "I must admit, I am angry even now. I thought it gone, but
it's resurfaced once again. Still, though, that is not why I wished to speak
with you."

You have emoted: "Well," Melantha amends, "Not entirely, at least."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "If you are angry, ciahra, I will
hear you. But I will hear, also, the reason why we are met here."

Drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds.

Kayalenki reaches out, capturing a handful of water in her webbed palm. Above
it, she draws forth a faint mote of fire, letting it dance and shine above the
pond-in-miniature.

You have emoted: Melantha's lips twitch upward at Kayalenki's display. She draws
forth a simple personal journal from her possessions and, taking inspiration
from her, calls forth a flame above it just large enough to act as a shield
against the rain.

You say, "Some time ago, I was perusing the library, and came across this."

You say, "They are my sister's writings to the Monastery, and I dearly wish that
I had found them in a more timely manner. I wanted to share them with you."

The sun rises higher in the sky, casting its rays more intensely upon the land
as it nears its zenith.

You say, "I feel it grants an insight you would find... if not valuable, then at
least somewhat enlightening."

Kayalenki's eyes meet your own. She nods, waving the water from her hand - a
faint coil of steam rises, and she reaches out, with dry, warm fingers. "Thank
you. I will read them."

Attaining her fullest glory, the shining sun sits upon her throne at the apex of
her daily trek through the firmament.
It is now noon on Kinsday, the 20th of Arios, year 456 of the Midnight Age.

The Gods' bells sing out from the Temple, the God Slyphe's most prominent,
welcoming high noon.

The tones of the Gods' bells fade, giving way to afternoon.

A soft clang echoes above the Vebae Hialearo, announcing that lunch has been set
out for the Illuminai.

You have emoted: Melantha meets Kayalenki's eyes with no trouble, her own calm.
Her lips are drawn tight in the effort to keep her expression calm, but
otherwise shows no sign of anything but quiet gratitude at Kayalenki's
acceptance. She hands the journal over with a small nod.

You give a personal journal entitled, "A copy of a personal journal entitled,
"Guide: To Light a Fire"" to Kayalenki.

Drawing the journal into her lap and beckoning her fire elemental closer as a
living ward against the rain, Kayalenki opens the book and begins to read, her
glowing eyes bent upon the pages.

A light rain wets your surroundings, falling pleasantly around you.

Occasional raindrops fall on your head as the drizzle continues.

Drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds.

The bright light of the Grand Flame shines down upon the City from the Temple's
apex.

A light rain wets your surroundings, falling pleasantly around you.

Drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds.

Drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds.

Kayalenki closes the journal, gazing down at it and then across the pond in
silence. She draws in a deep breath - and then exhales it in turn.

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "My impression is that the woman
who wrote this book must have changed a great deal over sixty years. There is
wisdom in these pages."

You have emoted: Kayalenki's words draw a small pained smile to Melantha's lips.
"It is as she herself said in closing. Much of herself is invested in those
pages. Her soul, I feel, is laid bare upon them. For certain, she is not the
same as she was when penning those words, but she endured a great deal in the
intervening time. Of course she has changed."

You say, "But do not misunderstand me, please. She lived these words for every
one of those sixty years."

You say, "Made mistakes just as any of us do, but her beliefs remained firm,
lent her strength even as she invested her strength into them."

Drawing the journal open again, Kayalenki settles her finger upon one of the
paragraphs, reciting it aloud: "'You should worry about your ego, and your
pride. Some things are best in small measures, like being proud about being a
Zealot in your fight for the Light. Yet if you become proud because you feel
confident in your ability to teach to the point that you think you have all the
answers - this is wrong. You do not have all the answers, no mortal does. Not
even the Gods have all the answers. So place high value in humility. It will
keep you from obstructing your own growth.'"

Pausing, Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says, "I do not think she ever
believed she had all the answers, but there came a point where humility was
forgotten and she believed that her and her Monastery had more answers than the
outside world did."

You have emoted: Melantha's smile is touched with wryness as she listens. After
a moment, she replies, "I admit that I expected you to bring up that paragraph.
My sister was fiercely protective of the Monastery, we who are her family.
Stubborn, too. But there is a difference, I feel, between humility and
meekness."

"She was not given to either," Kayalenki states. "She would not hear of new
ideas. She rejected them in turn. To Sabaelism - she said 'no'. To the Temple -
she said 'no'. To unity under the Illuminai banner - she said 'no'. She was as
unmoving and unchanging in her convictions and her conception of what the Daru
were as the undead are in their physical forms." Her eyes rise to you. Her lips
are a thin line.

Arcing westward through the heavens, the sun casts the light of late afternoon
across the lands.

You have emoted: Melantha's smile fades, pain now open on her face. Her voice is
quiet as she replies, "The ideas were hardly new when you came among us,
Prophet. We discussed it long and often amongst ourselves, and with its early
proponents. In the end, we found that the views could not be reconciled without
fatal compromise. We wished no ill, but simply wished to walk separate yet
parallel paths with those with us in the Light. The unity... she saw, as do I,
as rather a subsumation. In the face of that, how could she not contest it?"

Softly, you say, "I would have my sister's good name vindicated, and that of the
Monastery."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "I understand that you bear her
love, but what you saw as just contestation, others viewed as unjustifiable
retreat from the world. The people of the Light are not solely accountable to
themselves, but to their brethren - all their brethren, of all the city's guilds
and all the city's Gods. I say this to establish that in living together,
relying upon one another for defense against the Darkness that lies outside our
walls... this entails compromise by its nature. If we wish to present a force
capable of bringing out what is promised in the Revelation. I am not claiming
that this is easy. I myself would have the doubting and the complacent burned at
the stake. But that is not my say, and I must bend to the common convention of
the day that states that no, in this Epoch... We do NOT burn people at the stake
any longer."

You say, "They had but to ask. They had only to ask and we would gladly have
explained as we always have. We knew accountability on that score. Teach, not
preach, as my sister noted. We welcomed debate, but did not... Did not bludgeon
about the head with it. Maybe in times long past, but..."

You say, "As for the force to bring about the Revelation, do not well-drilled
armies have units working together? Different function and specialty, but
laboring toward one objective."

You say, "Marching together yet remaining distinct."

You say, "That is what we sought."

Gazing out over the pond, Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "It is
not debate if one has no intention of changing their mind. She never had that in
her head. She never had oneness in mind. She wanted her Monastery, Melantha. She
wanted it free from the city, free from the Gods, free from anything but her
self-created Light - free from accountability. She wanted her own army, her own
drums, her own banners, and to hell with the city's styles. That is precisely
what she received."

You crease your brow in a frown.

You say, "She received not even that small dignity. Even now, she and the
Monastery are spoken of with thinly-veiled contempt and pity. The former is of
no consequence to me, but the pity... That burns too fiercely to be borne without
a word, even for me. But bear it I did until now."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet asks you, "Your Monastery is remembered so
slightly and so thinly, and yet you would see the name of the one who led it for
those long decades vindicated?"

Conviction firming her quiet voice, you say, "Aye... I could do nothing less,
and I would do more if it's in my power to see it done."

You say, "I feel... That the entire matter was grossly mishandled, on all sides.
I do not lay the blame unequally. I acknowledge that my sister could have done
things differently, to better effect. She is, after all, far from a Perfect
being herself. But it could have, should have ended differently."

"You cannot earn forgiveness for another, Melantha," Kayalenki states gently.
"Let it be considered that the city is corrupt and wrongheaded, and I am the
tyrant that brought it about and destroyed the last bastion of truth. Let it be
considered that Nola, then, is the unsung heroine of this story." She rests her
eyes on you, gathering her lips to a faint pinch. "In every story I have read,
the heroine must prove her own worth. Her sister cannot do it for her. Your
actions cannot redeem another's name. You are responsible for yourself, and she
is in turn responsible for herself and her own actions."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "I will agree that the matter was
mishandled. I should have been more patient and more considerate. I should not
have taken her as representative of the Monastery - my inaccurate impression was
that it was so and that, as elected leader, she represented your values
unequivocally. Foolish of me. Zealous."

You wince in pain.

You say, "In that last, I feel you are still mistaken."

You say, "Though I still wish to this day that I had been in attendance."

You say, "I feel it was our discussion just prior that sparked the meeting that
day."

You say, "Am I mistaken?"

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "The two of you spoke as though
with one voice. It was eerie. Uncanny. Never before in all my years had I
encountered such unanimity in two members of a fold."

Kayalenki's head tilts to one side - she gives it a slow shake.

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "I admit it frightened me."

The deepening dusk yields to impenetrable darkness as night claims the land.
It is now dusk on Kinsday, the 20th of Arios, year 456 of the Midnight Age.

The Gods' bells sing out with the Beast Queen's chiming loudly at the forefront,
warning of the coming night.

The tones of the Gods' bells fade away into the twilight.

A soft clang echoes above the Vebae Hialearo, announcing that dinner has been
set out for the Illuminai.

You have emoted: Melantha's lips lift in a weary smile. "I always have aspired
to be as great a role model as my sister. It pleases me, a bit, to hear that I
seem to have succeeded in so emulating her. But my beliefs are truly held, not
mere imitation."

You say, "But that fear... In it, you struck her a blow from which even she
could not recover completely."

You say, "It broke her. After all she had borne, that was the mortal wound."

It is a time before Kayalenki speaks again, her eyes casting out over the
waters. "I feared ignorance. I saw in you the faces of the country zealots of my
own time. I saw in you the faces of the smug, self-satisfied rich whose hold
upon the old city I burned out. Fire is many things, and one of these is change.
Either you are transformed, or you become ash."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "If your sister could not change
in the face of new ideas and new evidence, then she was no more useful to us
than the undead. If she is broken, that is a reflection upon her, and not upon
me."

Her face closing, you say, "Even we change, Prophet. We have never lain
stagnant, but instead weigh the worth of everything in respect to the Light as
it reveals itself to us. You say that we are either transformed or become ash. To
me who has served Fire the entirety of my adult life. Consider this, if you
will: After enough refinement in the forge, there comes a point where no more
can be wrought upon the piece without warping and otherwise spoiling the piece."

You give a pained sigh.

You say, "As for my sister, she had every bit of her support torn and scattered
away from beneath her."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "For me, it comes to this - she
does not stand here to defend herself upon her own account. It was not the
defeat of the Light that broke her. It was the loss of her Monastery. It was the
loss of her support. It was the loss of her ideas. All these things speak to an
unwilling death of the ego. An unwilling death of pride."

"She fell," Kayalenki adds. "She fell and did not rise. And this speaks more to
her character than anything I could say about her."

You say, "She did not fall. She was cast down. She endured until she at last
could not. That it took so long, I feel, is as high praise as can be given. The
blade long wielded in service to the Light should have been set aside with the
honour and dignity that was earned as its due."

You say, "Instead, it was planted in the ground and its spine snapped."

Simply, Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "Your sister defied the
will of the Gods, and you would have her honored."

Evenly, you say, "I would. The caretakers of the Light of whom you sang sought
to smelt down a masterpiece and have the molten remains cast in a mold. And
casting invariably weakens the final product, limits its usefulness to a meager
shadow of its potential."

Giving a faint shake of her head, Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you,
"You are a better woman than she. Do not become her in your grief."

Her expression turning wintry, you say, "It would not be the first time I've
been branded heretic. Blasphemer, even."

Made of fine black linen, this formal gi uniform is composed from a gi shirt
that fits the wearer loosely and a pair of matching gi pants. The cuffs and trim
are embellished with gold silk that complements the jet black of the rest of the
garment. An intricate embroidery, sewn with careful attention to detail and
shimmery threads to liven the image, depicts the majestic Daru Khimaira that
covers the back of the gi shirt. The symbolic creature is composed of the black,
hooded head of the king cobra, the white, black-striped body of a tiger, and the
mighty red wings of a dragon. The gi pants of the uniform are fashioned to allow
a range of movement without having too much extra fabric. The waistband of the
pants is secured with a gold drawstring while the bottoms are edged with gold
cuffs. A simple black linen belt wraps around the waist for pulling together the
open front of the gi shirt.
It can be worn in the following locations:
fullbody              overtorso
It has 37 weeks of usefulness left.
It weighs about 3 pound(s) and 0 ounce(s).
It bears the distinctive mark of Grand Mistress Melantha, fio Raimuv Cyraeni.

Another sigh breaks from Kayalenki - she nods, faintly, and fixes her gaze on
the pond. "So be it." She pauses. "If you wish your sister honored, that is
beyond my power. I cannot force a city to love her, and her redemption is for
her. Live for yourself. Not for a sister who wakes for you no more. That is my
advice, and I say it knowing you will not hear me."

You have emoted: As if waiting for those words, Melantha turns briefly to bare
the emblem upon the back of her uniform. "My sister woke long enough to pass the
torch, Prophet. I will bear it with my head high, for myself, for her, but most
especially for the Light. And though you say that you cannot force the city to
love her, your word nonetheless carries weight, does it not?"

You say, "It eases my mind to hear you acknowledge the whole wreck for what it
is. I would that it had come sooner, and publicly. The former cannot be
accomplished, but perhaps the latter?"

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says, "My word does. But I do not believe Nola
served the Light so much as she served herself. Even were it shown to me that
her intentions toward the city were good ones, with the best interests of the
southeast and its peoples at her heart, my word only goes so far. There are
others whose impressions of her are similarly negative, and I will not change
their minds."

You say, "You say that, but think of it this way: To what lengths do we go to
drag a soul from Darkness? If we cannot bend similar effort of will in righting
a wrong against our own, by what right do we bear the Light's banner?"

You say, "Does it not foster unity to reconcile those cast aside with those that
do not wish to see reconciliation?"

"Reconciliation is a two-sided effort," Kayalenki responds. "Forgiveness,
redemption... They require active effort. I do not believe they can meaningfully
occur through a proxy. And they are not for everyone." She tips her hands
upward, cupping them, twin motes of flame appearing in her palms. "They must be
fought for and earned, and in this - actions speak louder by far than words.
There was opposition between your sister and this city. Your sister defied the
Gods in word and deed. She was cast down and fell. She left this city and
retreated into the west, beneath the roots of the burned Tree. You speak
eloquently in her defense, but at the least she must emerge and stand for what
she has done before the city - in my view - could be made to understand her,
sympathize with her, and honor her as you feel she deserves."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says, "Even the most penitent amongst the
undead must seek out the cure from a Damarielite or a God. Our considerable
powers of forgiveness cannot reach to one unwilling to reconcile."

After a long, pensive moment, you say, "There's truth to that. So what you are
saying is that you are simply waiting for her to emerge, then? There are proxies,
aye, but also mediators. I stand in the capacity of the latter."

Deepest blackness falls as another day passes, midnight commanding the skies of
Sapience.
It is now midnight on Gosday, the 21st of Arios, year 456 of the Midnight Age.

The Gods' bells toll out the midnight hour across the City - the Underking's
leads the chorus with its high but doleful warning.

The tones of the Gods' bells fade away, leaving the night silent.

You wryly say, "While she can speak perfectly well in her own defense, I have a
feeling that I will still be needed as such."

You frown and say, "That I was not awake to do so when it was most needed is a
shame that I bear to this day."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet asks you, "You yourself have said that she
passed the torch. Or is she not so broken that she cannot stand in her own
defense?"

You say, "She passed the torch, aye. With the caveat that she would explain
later. As that has not yet occurred, I remain hopeful. Make no mistake, she was
broken, but I believe that she of all people can be reforged."

You say, "The rest, though, is a necessary part of that process."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "Then we shall see. Until that
time, I am not prepared to venerate her after any fashion. I understand this is
not your desired outcome, but I will not be moved on this. My impression of her
is not a good one, and though her journal contains wisdom, her words are dwarfed
beneath her actions."

You say to Kayalenki, "We will see, indeed. Recall, though, that I wished her
-vindicated-. Anything else is a welcome bonus and relief."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "Vindication, too, is not
something I am willing to bestow. You may appeal to this city's secular
authority if you so desire. You may find them more yielding."

Smoothing out the creases of her dress, Kayalenki rises to her feet, the flames
in her hands blinking out as she smoothly draws her fists.

You have emoted: Melantha nods curtly. "I'll save myself the trouble, never
fear."

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet asks you, "It has been good speaking with you.
Do you mind if I keep this journal, or do you wish it back?"

You say, "Thank you, at least, for hearing me out."

You say, "And yes, please, I wish its return."

You say, "Actually, no."

You say, "Keep it."

You wryly say, "I can make another copy for myself."

Pausing midway through holding out the journal, Kayalenki makes a show of
wavering, then smiles and slips it into one of the pockets of her robe.
"Gracious of you."

You smile wryly.

You say, "It was intended to be shared."

You say, "Even if only with the Monastery."

You ponder the situation.

You turn towards Kayalenki and place your palms together in front of your chest,
bowing respectfully.

Kayalenki's hand rests on the journal for a moment before drawing outward. Her
fire elemental circles, slowly around her - and she lights another flame in her
hand, holding it out before her, and bows in turn.

You say, "I may yet curse your name."

You wryly say, "Just not today."

The deepening night stands strong against the coming day as the moon traces its
path across the sky.

You have emoted: Melantha's eyes glint with grave humor.

Kayalenki fio Kelsys, the Prophet says to you, "That's a small blessing, and I
shall thank you for it, ciahra. Walk in the Light."

Holding out her hand to light the way, Kayalenki departs.

Kayalenki leaves to the south.
She is followed by a large fire elemental.