Difference between revisions of "Salt Lotus/Eclipse"

Revision as of 15:48, 25 July 2006

By MunificentPerception

The next day…

In the outdoor heat of a merciless noon, Fia dreamed and drowsed. The courtesan was grateful that her costume allowed the light breeze to cool her more effectively than most of the Guild entourage’s hunting outfits. She was dressed for the chase, but her riding dress was both shorter and slit higher up the sides than needed, and her sleeveless silk wrap cut lower than conventional propriety allowed for. Among her fellow courtesans — today employed by the guildsmen to provide entertainment during the day’s rest pauses — there were one or two who could perhaps claim a fairer face or figure, but none who came close in sheer exoticness.

Fia's unmarred skin carried the golden sheen of the world's seafaring western peoples, and her cobalt blue eyes and hair betrayed her elemental ancestry. A boyish forefather had been seduced by the power of a water nymph, and nine months later, the by blow of their brief union, Fia's grandmother, had been laid at his doorstep by the feckless spirit. His young wife had murdered him in a fit of jealousy, but perhaps out of compassion, or perhaps out of fear of retribution, she had taken the blued-haired infant as her own. The mercurial nymph had passed on several qualities of her nature to her mortal descendants, and water was the most sensual of the elements. Its flowing nature and grace could be seen in Fia's movements, whether in pouring tea, when her clients leaned forward, chests clenched with held breaths to study the vulnerability of her exposed neck and neckline, or in her dancing, which commanded the highest prices of any mortal courtesan in the city. It also infused her voice with longing — so much so that her owners often hired her out not for the beauty of her presence or the charm of her wit, but to sing prayers and dance in Great Fork’s temples on behalf of employers.

On occasion, she had been commissioned to make love to gods and placate enraged spirits.

What she had not inherited from her great grandmother was the fickle temper of water. While many who were believed to be born with a surfeit of water in their nature were capable of bursts of extreme enthusiasms and fits of stormy of anger, Fia's eyes were wells of limpid calm. Her passions were deep currents, and her patience a sea of tranquility in the realm of petty jealousies that made up the floating world of Great Forks' teahouses and performers. Today, that serenity stood her in good stead. What vexed her less-disciplined peers was that the guildsmen were not the least interested in the singing, dance or intimacy that might bring the courtesans extra coin. Instead, bottle and flask commanded their employers' attention. Wine had been drunk in plentiful quantities as a slow morning provided little game for the hunt, and now the powerful afternoon sun conspired to finish robbing the men of their wits. Rather than seeking the company of women, the guildsmen fell over each other, laughing and staggering as they regaled their fellows with anecdotes from their latest caravan crossing.

On a milder day Fia would have occupied herself with devising a feint of diplomacy to distract the men from their drinking. Today, however, between the unusual heat and the potency of the wine, any such effort would only be in vain. So Fia allowed herself to dream and remembered a day when the sun and moon had joined in a haloed sphere of darkness and glory, when all of Creation’s inhabitants had stood still in terror and wonder, and when she had known with absolute certainty that her days of slavery would end well before the days of her life. In the future, she would be free, and for the first time she would choose which strand of destiny to follow.

Unbeknownst to Fia, that day of manumission had now arrived.

Across a sun-drenched meadow, a flash of rich yellow sparked against the dark-green backdrop of the forest line. Looking around cautiously, she saw no awareness of the light on the faces of the other courtesans. Their attention lingered on the guildsmen, who continued to roll with mirth and drunkenness. Hunting hounds barked excitedly, while servants and slaves looked on with weary patience.

The mote shone again, deep gold radiating through the trees, and in that moment Fia felt a powerful tide of curiosity well up within her breast. Her heart pounded as she watched the mote flicker a third time. Torn between desire and the painfully ingrained ties of slavery, she crossed the threshold of decision, took the reins of her mare in hand and left unnoticed amidst the noise and inebriated commotion. Fia led her horse across the meadow and entered the dark cool of the forest. Mounting and then riding between shafts of sunlight, Fia pursued the flickering mote of gold as it moved ever inwards. She lost track of the hours' passage, and it was at sunset that she led her tired horse into a small clearing that contained a roofless shrine. This small, forgotten temple to the element of air was a silent spot where Essence welled up into the world of fixed shape, and within the shrine, Fia discovered the form it had taken. At first she mistook the stone that lay on the altar for a thumb-sized opal, but as she gazed upon it, it was clearly far too beautiful to be a mortal gem. It was banded with opaque red and dark silver, and lay between the encircling arms of a choker of orichalcum — the Sun's gold.

As she took the gem in her hands, the evening breeze slowed. Between the temple’s columns she could see the windblown motion of grass and tree branches moving at a fraction of its previous speed. An ancient memory settled on Fia and told her that time’s passage remained the same; that it was her perception of it that had been changed by taking up the stone. She knew that the sacred gem, along with the choker, was a gift. Out of gratitude she turned to the shrine’s westward entrance and faced a setting sun that was wreathed in a glory of plum and crimson clouds. A flickering corona of white light edged with gold sprang up around her as she held the Hearth Stone up in gratitude to the Unconquered Sun.

That night, as she slept on the shrine's floor, memories of fierce exhilaration burned in her dreams. There had been learning and hiding as she had pursued the mysteries of being and Essence, then rebellion and open battle as she had helped to unite the forces of men and Dragon Kings against the makers of the world. She remembered storming a portal of Yu-Shan, the heavenly city. Her Charms had forced gates and cleared a path for her Terrestrial soldiers through the flesh and blood of eternal ancients. There had been death and rebirth, adoration, anger, bright discovery and a burning betrayal of heart-consuming intensity that left tears on her sleeping face.

Next: Dawning Daughter encounters and obstacle with implications on the road to Great Forks.

Next: /Dawn-2

Back to: /Night

Back to: Salt Lotus

This is a work of fan fiction set in White Wolf’s Exalted fantasy setting and is no way meant to challenge White Wolf’s copy rights or trademarks. The characters Joyous Gift, Mirror Flag, Ribbons of Sorrow, Shield of a Different Day, Spinner of Glorious Tales and Weaver of Dreams of Victory, as well as the city Great Forks are trademarked White Wolf Property.