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Aleari the Druid

"Thou art like stale water in a still vase." Those were the words the guru spoke on the day my mother prevailed upon their long friendship for him to perform a Truespeaking upon her only daughter. I was 16 then, so naturally I bristled at his sanctimonious tone. But he was a friend of my mother, so I ket my impertinent comments to myself.

Even still, my mother broke into laughter. She was often careworn, so her laugh was warm and always welcome, like a cool spring rain. He has seen through you easily, my daughter. My mother ruffled my waste length copper hair and smiled at me, her pale-green eyes meeting mine. Though our hair was different, I was glad to have inherited her eyes. I reached down to spin her around our small kitchen, surprised to see that at 5 and a half feet, I now stood above her.

We cant all dedicate ourselves to the mysteries of the gods, mother, I said, teasing her slightly. Some of us need to keep the garden alive.

She grinned unrepentantly. And a fine job you do.

But now, three years later, I knew that the guru had spoken true. I had had an easy life. But now my mother was dead. It had not been an easy sickness, and even as I shoveled the last of the mossy earth over her, I gave thanks to the gods she had long admired that her suffering was at an end.

But I couldnt shake the feeling that I should have been able to ease her suffering. As I moved around our old home, alone there for one of the first times I could remember, a passage from her favorite religious text kept flickering through my head. The last foe thou must vanquish shalt be thine own mortality. Many nights we had discussed the verse, engaging in one of our many good-natured disagreements. My mother believed it meant that in death, all would return to the gods, and find peace in their company. But I held a different belief.

Balance was an essential part of nature. This was something I knew and believed deeply. People were not deeply good or evil,, and the small goodnesses and evils in the day to day were not my concern. Plants were grown, and died and were used to give strength to new growing things. But death? Death was fundamentally wrong. And I believed it could be cured, if one only knew how.

As I walked through the small forest bordering our cottage, I resolved to dedicate myself to the magic of root and leaf. For plants held the healing properties I longed to understand, as well as mystical properties I could only dimly guess at. It was unconscionable that the secrets to saving my mother, or at least relieving her suffering, could have been here and I knew it not. The next day, I would set forth, selling what possessions I could, to find a teacher. I would learn all I could of the properties of plants, both harmful and curative,. I would continue to keep my body in shape, and I would dedicate what time remained to my spiritual studies, as my mother had wished. Surely in all that knowledge, the mysteries of death itself could be comprehended and, I hoped, even removed.

Druid Aleari

Advisor Description

What can I get you, hon? The rosey-faced woman behind the counter riffled through the papers stacked haphazardly on the desk, looking for one that was blank.

A room, and something to eat, if you've got it.

The woman nodded aphibly. Sure thing. Just don't mind Stephon. Hes a flirt, but es harmless, and you're likely not his type.

Dizzied by this confusing warning, I simply nodded, doing my best to look like I wasn't a simple farm girl out in the city for the first time. She on your tab? The woman asked, gesturing behind me.

What? I turned to see the woman loitering in the foyer, plainly trying to look busy. She had dark hair, cut short to frame her face, and wide dark eyes. She was a little taller than me, and definitely looked as though she was no stranger to hard labor. Her shoulders were broad, and her clothes travelstained. And I had seen her before.

Youre following me, I said, turning to the woman accusingly.

She opened her mouth to protest, but I raised a hand, turning back to the proprietress. No. Shes not. But she will be joining me for dinner, I explained. I had seen her several times while walking, and she always seemed to be keeping her distence, managing to look plausably engaged in something else when I passed, but it had happened too often now to be coincidence. She had even somehow managed to be nearby when I was miles from the city, doing my first job for the local herbalist. If this woman was trying to hide that she was following me, she was doing a laughably bad job of it. And I wanted an explination.

When I turned back, I had half expected her to have fled, but instead, she simply stood, hunched in on herself, looking as guilty as as half-drenched cat. She sighed dejectedly, and fell into step beside me as I steered us towards a corner booth. Oh, I cannot believe how badly I've screwed this up.

I shrugged, digging into the feast the woman had brought for us. There was enough food here to feed a small army, and it was better than anything Id had before. I took a moment to simply savor the hearty fare before turning my mind back to my unexpected companion. Why don't we start with who you are, I suggested.

The woman hesitated, reaching down to her belt where a sword would have hung. She looked so uncomfortable here that I almost felt sorry for her. Names Caelista, she said, finally bowing to the inevitable and letting herself relax slightly. And I suppose now that its not a secret I'm following you, theres no reason not to tell you who I am, or why I'm here. My father sent me to watch after you, and protect you if I could.

Why? I asked dubiously. Who is your father, and why does he care what happens to me?

The woman reached to her throat, clutching a pendent that hung there. My eyes snapped to it, for I had only seen it one other place. Youre the truth speakers daughter, I suddenly knew.

Caelista nodded slowly. Do you know what a child of the grove is?

A solstice child? I asked.

She nodded. Would-be parents who cannot or don't have children for whatever reason go to the grove at midsummer. Children born there have no parents, and encounters there are not tarnished with the impropriety of infedelity. The gods understand the need for children to go to loving hearts.

I cannot imagine the truthspeaker as a father, I said honestly.

He was a wonderful parent, Caelista rejoined. When he had a son, he was overjoyed, and when Cal truthfully told him that identity no longer fit, he loved me no less. He raised me in the light of the gods, and taught me what it was to honor them and my own truth.

I sighed. Youre as bad as another priest yourself, arent you? I said exasporated.

I know what you plan to do, she said. And yes, I do wish to counsel you against it. But I didnt lie. I am here to protect you, as well. If I raise my blade in your defense, you need not fear.

And that's the only reason you're here? I asked. Your father just ordered you, and you just complied?

Caelista sat in silence so long I thought she wasn't going to answer. When I at last ventured to look back to her, I was surprised at what I saw. She looked smaller, showing a surprising volnerability. I want to know about our mother, she said. She spoke so quietly I had to lean forward to hear her. I know that children of the grove have no parents, and my father has taught me well, but I cannot quell my curiosity. I want to know the woman from whom I am descended, and you are all that remains of her. The gods have pushed us together, and I think there is purpose in it.

I rolled my eyes. The gods had little enough to do with it, I said. I couldnt believe my mother had not told me of this. We acted on our own impulses. That is the only reason we are here.

Caelista looked away. I will not preach to you, sister. I hope and believe in time, you will see the example of my life and embrace the gods for yourself. But regardless, will you tell me of her?

I sighed. I didnt want to be traveling with someone so critical of my own innate philosophy. But I could not deny part of me found her presence comforting, and perhaps her religious regidity would lighten in time. To my surprise, I found myself admiring Caelistaadmiring my sisters strength. She had clearly been through ordeals I could not even begin to imagine, and her curiosity about my mother made my own heart soften even against my will. To my surprise, I found myself reaching out towards her to clasp her hand in my own. I will. But not all at once. We have an early day tomorrow, and should make sure were well rested for it. Lets go get a room.

Aleari the Druid Post Play & MMORPG RPG Text

Sleep eludes me tonight. The strange lucid dreams that have been accosting me since my arrival in this strange city have come stronger. Every night, I see the same woman, strange, ethereal, beautiful. I can never remember her face upon waking, but always, her beauty remains with me. Usually, I simply observe her, wondering whether she is a sign of my impending loss of sanity. I believe in the real, things I can directly observe. Whatever crack in my subconscious cause me to hallucinate such a being can’t bode well for me.

But tonight was different. I had resolved to see what this projection of my own psyche claimed to have. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at what she told me. ‘Reflect on your mother.’ It figured. The one thing I’d so carefully tried not to think about. Oh, sure, I still replayed some of our days in my head nearly every day. The good things, the laughter, learning to cook from her, how she could seem childlike one moment, and incredibly wise the next. But there were things I didn’t want to think about.

My mother had lied to me. I knew there were things about her life she’d not told me. Even flighty as she was, I knew these things had not simply been forgetfulness or absentmindedness. I knew she meant well, but still, it worried me. All these years, she had another daughter. Caelista reminded me so much of her, sometimes. Or rather, what she could have been, with more focus, more dedication to knowledge and purpose. But what else might she have been concealing? But no. That’s the easy answer. The real story was much simpler. I’d read enough stories to know that flighty mothers had been made so by the machinations of villains, or were simply a front for an often very, very clever woman’s scheme. To keep necessary information from the hero until the proper time. But I also knew that real life rarely worked like that. Mental illnesses weren’t simply acts, and neither were they difficult legacies bestowed by an external villain. For whatever reason, they were simply innate to some people and not others, and not even the best mages entirely understood why. Perhaps with enough study, these too could be understood and eliminated.

These two possible theories compete in my head. The second is the one the evidence favored, I know that. Whatever the cause of my mother’s turbulent moods and seeming lack of control over her own thoughts, I likely possessed them too. There were no external defeats that would let me escape that truth. And still, why did I wonder? Why did I still feel like there were more secrets of my mother yet to discover? Why did it seem like her obfuscations had been strategic? Was it simply that I couldn’t admit my mother had been frailer than I liked to admit, or was there truth to this strange gut feeling?