Reflections

Footbridge above a reflective pond.
The rippling sound of flowing celestial waters echoes distantly from a healing shrine of Lantra
nearby. This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. A wide stone footbridge arches
over this large pond, providing a path from the central square to the structure behind the
southwestern wall, of which nothing is visible save for a few fleeting glimpses of scarlet fabric
caught in the wind. The pleasant banks of the pond are smooth with the exception of the far
southwestern corner, which is home to several medium-sized trees of varying species, including
cherry, maple, and walnut. These trees lord over the pond, providing a peaceful spot to relax and
meditate. The surface of the pond, being the only isolated one of its kind in the gardens, is as
motionless and flat as glass. Those resting on the far bank are provided a serene vista of the
willow tree, central square, and fountain, all which are reflected in the deep azure hues of the
water's surface.
You see exits leading northeast, east, southwest, and northwest.

You sense the passage of Misericorde to the northwest.

Misericorde offers you a sharp salute of greeting, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "I trust
you're well," she states as her hand eases back to her side.

Stirring from his reverie, Avaris turns from contemplating a crimson lotus cradled
in the palm of his lower left hand, to return Misericorde's salute with a precise one of his own,
inclining his head courteously. In a warm, pleasant tone, he says, "Misericorde. I am well enough,
as much as can be expected, given the circumstances. What of yourself?"
12300h, 6800m, 7300e, 10p Bexd-
Misericorde arches an eyebrow at the sight of the lotus, though her gaze soon rises to meet your. "I
have been quite well," she answers, her arms crossing behind her back. "Niralahi was awake last
weave and met young Falaine. I quite enjoyed the visitation." With a tip of her chin, she inquires,
"A flower?"

The seven azure eyes with which Avaris regards Misericorde glitter with bright
slivers of light at the response, the point of his chin dipping down to brusth the tufts of his
gently drifting mane. "Ah, that is well. I hope that your good wife approves of her. Falaine is
quite a fan of her work. I do not doubt she enjoyed meeting her." The gleaming of his eyes brightens
as a note of fond humour tinges his words, "Did she blush?"

The hand that holds the star lotus curls inwards in a reflexive, protective gesture
as Avaris replies, "More than a flower, but yes, of a sorts. A star lotus, gifted to me by my Lady.
A very great honour."

Misericorde gives a curt nod, amusement touching her eyes as she answers, "Yes, she did. I think she
was somewhat overwhelmed at first, but warmed up quick enough." Her eyebrow arches once more as the
flower is cradled closer to you, her voice light as she muses, "It seems a great honour indeed."
Then, simply, "Congratulations on such a gift. I'm quite sure it is treasured."

A low, resonating tone of amusement vibrates from within Avaris's armoured throat,
his antennae drifting in a relaxed, liquid manner. "I am pleased. She is often stiff, at first. You
should see her with children, however - She is excellent with them." Another nod of acknowledgement
meets the congratulations, before the kephera reverently places the flower within a sturdy container
that rests upon his hip, in the manner of a priest placing a most holy item within its sacred
reliquary. The layered voices that harmonise together to form his own are soft, but woven through
with a complex array of feeling as he confirms, "It is. Beyond measure."

Misericorde hums an amused note and says, "Yes, she did mention teaching the little star ephemeral
to read. Quite a feat I certainly wouldn't have the patience for." Her hands unclasp from behind her
back, allowing her to make absent motions with them as she continues, "I look forward to speaking
with her again - and I'm certain Niralahi does as well." A touch impish, she adds, "And Falaine is
wise enough to appreciate my wife's artistic talents."

That same, ghost of an expression yet touching her face, Misericorde draws her hand together, the
rain water spilling down her skin to coalesce between her palms - forming first a sphere, and then
with some concentration, something resembling a flower. Her left palm cupped, her right twists and
pulls at the water until a lotus forms, which she then innocently holds out to you.

Genuine pleasure suffuses Avaris's choral voice as he turns his hand aside in a
gentle, golden arc. "Ah, that is wonderful. She deserves to have people appreciate her, and that can
look past how formal she is. You two will be good for her, I feel." Lifting a clawed finger
skywards, he continues, "Lady Vaevaya? Indeed. We are both surpassingly fond of her. Have you
encountered her yet?" He falls silent, watching Misericorde's manipulation of aquamantic energies
with open curiosity, many of the glowing eyes upon his wings focused upon Misericorde's hands as
they work. Once the artful creation is presented to him, he holds a hand up in a forestalling
gesture.

Freeing his other hands from beneath his folded wings, Avaris brings the lower pair
together, concentrating, until a mote of starlight coalesces within the cupped bowl of aureate
chitin. It blossoms, unfurling into a shining star lotus, which he then holds out to Misericorde, in
exchange. "A lotus for a lotus."

Misericorde muses for a moment, the sculpture of water wavering minutely in her palm, "Only when the
little starling first appeared. I haven't seen her since." Her concentration back upon the water
lotus, it reforms fully once more. With a low laugh, she wrinkles her nose and warns, "I'm not sure
it's a fair trade."

The brilliant blue of his eyes shines with merry points of light as Avaris emits a
soft laugh, the sound resonating pleasantly. "Mine shall not persist for more than a few moments,
when deprived of the connection to my Lady, I expect. A fleeting gift of passing beauty." Gently, he
moves his hand forward a few inches, gesturing in invitation, while holding his awaiting palm out to
receive the water-formed flower.

Misericorde inclines her head in acknowledgement, both of her hands briefly cupping the water
-sculpted lotus in concentration before passing it to you, and then taking the starlight-wrought
blossom in turn. Peering down at it curiously, her abyssal countenance awash in silvery light, she
blinks once and then lightly caresses the edge of the lotus now cupped in her palms. Her voice low,
with a touch of teasing, she questions, "Are you certain you're not an artist?"

Accepting the aquatic artwork with great care, Avaris cups it within his upper pair
of hands, in the manner of one handed something of immense value and fragility, his helm-like head
turned down to study it in an admiring fashion. He does so as the lotus begins to lose cohesion,
wobbling and blurring as Misericorde's control fades, and when the ephemeral gift inevitably
collapses into a splash of crystalline water that trickles down through his fingers, he breathes a
soft sigh of sincere appreciation. "That was most wonderful, Misericorde. Thank you." Lowering his
hands to his sides, he lifts an immense shoulder in a slight shrug. "It is not something I have
given much thought to. Your Lady suggested that I might offer something creative to Her, but I do
not know what I might make."

Voice resonating with choral harmonics, you say, "The star lotus is entirely my Lady's work. I am
merely a conduit."

Misericorde chuckles softly as the starlight-wrought lotus begins to shatter gently in her hands
until naught but a few motes of light hover in her palm, and then blink out of existence. Appearing
nonetheless appreciative of where the gift was once held, Misericorde muses softly, "A conduit
nonetheless can influence another, Avaris. Creation is not merely the physical - consider the waves
of influence you can spark with a single action." Glancing up, she asks, "Is that not art?"

Though the hard, curved planes of chitin that form Avaris's face are too immobile
to form the expression, there is nonetheless a distinct note of a grimace in the kephera's voice as
he replies, "Not the waves that my actions tend to set in motion, unfortunately, no. There is
nothing artful in much of what I do." With dry humour, wings shuffling to dislodge that water that
clings to them, he says, "One of the first pieces of Wisdom my Lady imparted to me is that a ripple
may spread further than a crashing wave. It is, apparently, one I have yet to comprehend."

Misericorde murmurs with mirth, "An act of creation need not be artful - it is merely a force.
Whether good or bad, it is still created." She then shrugs. "A wave may be as effective as a ripple.
It all depends on what it encounters." Looking pointedly at you, she continues, "You can create
great works, Avaris. Refine your approach. Try again. You will never achieve perfection when the
journey is the goal."

Avaris's initial response is a neutral, non-committal vibration of sound as he
turns the great wedge of his head back to face the pond - Though his attention remains upon
Misericorde, judging by the lingering regard of his lightforged eyes. "My Lady's happiness and
safety is my goal, Misericorde. All else flows from that." A brief, wry laugh shivers in the air
about him as he amends, "Trying is not the issue. It is the refining. I am poor at that, no matter
how I strive for it."

Misericorde answers in a clipped timbre, "You also have a duty to the Light." Glancing up to your
features she repeats again, "Learn to refine your words and approach. You will be better received.
Whether that practice comes with me, or another..." Her voice trails off as her attention shifts to
the reflection pool standing before them.

There is a slight pause in the rain as the storm clouds part, letting in a trickle of sunlight to
cast spangled rainbows through the air as if the sky were stained glass.

Unperturbed, Avaris replies in an even manner, "My Lady is tied most strongly to
the Light. They are not separate duties." The wickedly sharp spires of chitin that thrust up from
his shoulder rise in a brief, jerking shrug. "You say this as if I am not painfully aware of my
shortcomings. I have tried to do this, many times. I was to learn from the Even Bladed's muse, in
order to do so, but that is no longer happening." He frees a hand to flick it aside in a curt
gesture, the motion faintly frustrated. "I feel as if I am a hammer in a world of glass people. No
matter how delicately I try to approach them, they crack. I think I simply am not suited to it."

Misericorde answers evenly, "You cannot come to a new technique when all that stands around you is
shattered glass. I will not yield if you wish to learn. Your passion is an asset - it merely needs
to be harnessed." She makes an absent motion with her hand, catching a raindrop to begin idly
playing with it, the water swirling as it passes from palm to palm. "Let me help you reflect," she
says quietly.

Whether from the sea or the rain, a friendless mist sheathes the city in sparkling vapour and a
bitter, kniving chill.

Spidery fingers of crimson lightning flash across the tumultuous skies, gripping the parapets of
Deep Blue Cathedral like the hand of an angry god before letting go.

The huge, curved blades of Avaris's talons sink into the wet earth as he turns to
fully face Misericorde, his expressionless visage unreadable as he studies the merian for a time in
silence. The chill, glittering mists that wreathe the city coil about his feet, even as the sanguine
lightning above bathes him in a bloody hue for the brief span in which it persists. When he finally
does speak, it is in a level, measured manner. "If you believe that such will not ruin our
friendship before it truly forms, I am amenable to the attempt. I will warn you that I am stubborn
and frustrating enough even to try the patience of the Divine."

Misericorde turns as well to face you, something soft in her expression though it never quite
manifests. "I am of Her Icy Depths. You will learn what that means in time." With a glance up to the
drenching rain, the tentacles of her head susurrate before stilling somewhat and she says, "I must
rest for now. But while I'm gone consider your approach. We will attempt a small debate the next I'm
free, and review how you might begin to improve changing another's heart."

A slow, quiet breath hisses at length through the invisible seams of Avaris's
faceplate, though he lowers his head in acquiescence. "As you wish, Misericorde. Thank you, for
trying with me." Tone warming somewhat, as motes of light manifest in his eyes once again, he says,
"And thank you for your company. I hope that you rest well."

Misericorde inclines her head as she answers in turn, "Keep well." A sudden, impish look to her, she
muses as she turns on her heel, "I do look forward to correcting your form." Words hanging on the
air she strides away with a seeming skip to her step.