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See, the thing about witches is they're not too subtle. So when Rima-Tinrur was born her parents knew immediately that she, as is the thinking amongst the people of the Qabar-Kirkanshir, was touched by the gods. So with heavy heart did her father pry the babe from her mother's arms when next a [i]kayhin[/i] was passing by - why, it seemed that the painted druid had come for no reason but to accept the child from him, for on taking her he fell away singing onto a breeze and blew off into the variegated heavens like some forest leaf.

The other thing about witches is that they are rather unpredictable, so no matter how many had been known to exist before (not many, if you must know) it was never really certain how well their upbringing would go. And with such phenomenal manifestations of pure divine power, it was always good practice to distance them from other people in their early days. Discipline and control required isolation, exhilarating ecstasy while riding the stallion of emotion also required isolation; and any fledgeling witch had to master herself before she could venture into the world. People were fickle, they were easily spooked, easily grew to hate what they could not understand. Amongst them Rima-Tinrur would have known only pain; and so she would have created only pain. Input-output, that's how it works. The houlin berry does not grow from the sapling of the poison holly.

Now the problem with witches - and this is the real problem now, when we get down to the nitty-gritty of it - is not one of [i]too much[/i] power, but rather of an inability to comprehend and process that power. It is the equivalent of attempting to ram a tree into the eye of a needle. There is simply no capacity. There is no known way, by the limited means of mortalkind, of expanding this capacity except by investing long years and tireless training. The power, however, can be manipulated - can be [i]inhibited[/i]. If mana was pouring in heedlessly, then a song - [i]flowing mana, gently flow, and your pouring deluge slow[/i] - could caution its spirit and create mindfulness. When spirits grew mindful of one another, such pain subsided. Likewise with the Eternal Song itself - for little Rima's song came discordant and unharmonious, and so caused the great Song pain and Rima pain also. Here again a gentle song - [i]singing spirits wild and free, sing with greater harmony; see you not the gathering tears that Rima sheds at all she hears?[/i] - and all the spirits whispering come, and coo and hum for the burdened one. And there have been witches - poor wretched things, bereft of a gentle guiding hand and utterly alone - who were known to lose themselves to the siren call of the earth or the allures of the heavens. Here too the protective song does its part - it is all in the song, really. 

A carefully maintained song, that is - for the divine energies that flow in a witch, as you know, are unpredictable, ever-changing, twisting, turning, rebelling. The powers within roil with a life their own, and when successfully contained they change. And when they change, the protective song must change too - clearly, concisely, directly. There was no margin for error. 'And you must beware that you are not so taken by the spiritual that you become disconnected, my boy. Speak in riddles with the masses, let yourself go as you wish - you don't speak that they may understand, only for yourself. But when tutoring you must speak clearly, concisely, directly.' Thus were the stern words relayed from [i]kayhin[/i] to [i]kayhin[/i] over the eons. And so when the [i]kayhin[/i] taught Rima-Tinrur, he taught her clearly, concisely, directly.

'When you speak, Rima-Tinrur, you must speak clearly, concisely, directly. To speak so, you must think clearly, concisely, directly. To think so, you must [i]be[/i] - that is, [i]exist[/i] - clearly, concisely, directly. That is all. It is your foundation stone. The rest is repetition. So what are you, Rima-Tinrur?'

'I- uh.' How quickly they grew, and how quickly she learned. 'I am clear and... uh,' she panicked, and all about her the ether shook and trembled.

'Think it through, Rima-Tinrur - see through the emotion. It is not real. Think clearly. Think concisely. Think directly.' Sang her guardian [i]kayhin[/i]. When the foundations of the earth are solid, when the soil is treated of salts and its fertility sings out, when the seed is a goodly seed and it is cared and nurtured with a stern yet caring hand; there grows forth a healthy tree. 

Yet the way of the [i]kayhins[/i] was not a rejection of emotion, but rather a complete surrender to its most sublime form. Emotion was not some terror to be kept under lock and key, and a life spent looking over your shoulder to ensure it is not sneaking up on you is a mere mockery of life. No, it is like any wild and dangerous steed, in need of taming. And once you are its master, ah! it is as though you are seated on the throne of heaven, the wind planting its cooling kisses on your face. 'Just as you think clearly, concisely, directly; you must feel clearly, concisely, directly. You must be able to gaze into your self as though it were a clear lake on a twice-moonlit night. Your song must ring as clear in your ears as that of the stone or the tree.' When your essence is clear, concise, direct, there is no fear. Life's tumults may take you here now and now there, you may well lose yourself, you may forget. But in time you will retrace your steps and return. The youth ages on what she first grew upon.


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'Everything has a [i][abbr=dad]baibu[/abbr][/i] and a [i][abbr=mum]mimu[/abbr][/i], [i][abbr=grandpa]idda-ta[/abbr][/i]. Why don't I?'

'You have both, my dear.' Hummed the gently floating inked man. 'Be more still now, you are moving about too much. Listen to the song and let it carry you. It requires a [i]lack[/i] of exertion.'

'Why have I never seen them then?'

'You will see them in time, my dear, once your training is complete.'

'What are they like?'

'Very pleasant, I'm sure.'

'You don't know them?'

'No, but they know [i]kayhins[/i]. They gave you to me because they saw you are touched by the gods. You cannot live with them until you master yourself. When you have, you can return to them if you wish.' She was silent for a few moments.

'Why can't I live with them? Why do I have to wait?'

'It is because they do not feel in the way you do, my dear. There are differences between you and them, because you have been made different by the gods. If you lived among them they would not be able to provide what you need, and that may lead you to hurt them and others. So they gave you to me - because I [i]can[/i] provide for you. It is like the rosa - the one who understands it can make it beautiful, but the one who does not will cut himself on its thorns.' 

The teenage girl smiled at the comparison. 'So I am your rosa, [i]idda-ta[/i]? I thought,' she cleared her throat and spoke in a stern sing-song, '[i]the kayhin is not attached to worldly things[/i].' A smug smile spread on her face. He did not respond, his eyes remaining - as always - closed and his face deadpan. She thought for a few seconds. 'But really, I would never hurt anyone, I don't think they should have been worried.'

'In every person is the capacity to hurt and be hurt, my dear. You must know this, and you must know it deeply. And in every person is the capacity to create joy and be joyful, create peace and be peaceful, create war and be warlike, create suffering too. No one is free of these things, not even you. You, however, are blessed by the gods, and so your capacity when it comes to these is far greater than normal people. Your mother and father may create happiness on a small scale - and it may be a great happiness, but always on a small scale, and likewise with other things - sadnesses, pain, peace, conflict. You are able to do so on a great scale, and that is why you are with me: divine blessing does not confer privilege or give power. It imposes responsibility.'

The youth sighed and thought on this. 'I don't see why anyone would want to create pain or suffering [i]idda-ta[/i]. The song is beautiful, the sky is a miracle, the earth is...' she breathed deeply and said nothing. 'It is like the world is made only for joy. Why would anyone forget all that and create suffering instead?'

'That is something I cannot teach you, my dear. You will go out into the world when you are ready, and you will find the answers. But you must remember always what you were taught, what you are, and build upon it. And what are you, my dear?' Rima-Tinrur looked across the great expanse of desert that spread forth beneath them, and the far off mountains in the east, her wide glittering eyes of amber and speckled green flittering here and there to take in the world as though it was her first and last time. Thanks to the great control the [i]kayhin[/i] had been able to maintain over the inflow of energies into her, incrementally increasing it as her capacity and magical skill grew over the years, her outward features had not mutated as was the case with some witches found in the wilds. She had been able to maintain her humenaki appearance. Perhaps from time to time the colour of her eyes shifted, its amber glowing, perhaps her hair of dark brown stirred to life suddenly or chromatic ripples of colour washed through it all of a sudden only to disappear, or perhaps her fair sandy skin steamed when she was hot and bothered and little undulating streams of hot air billowed from her ears or mouth or nose, perhaps the bioluminescent tattoos flowing across her unveiled skin came to life now and again, shifting or snaking across her form... beyond that, however, she had been able to maintain her humenaki exteriority.

'I am clear, concise, direct.' She said, at last, the words rolling easily off her tongue and a spark shedding from her eyes.

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Rima-Tinrur winced slightly as the thin thread of levitating ink pierced her skin again. 'Shed the pain.' Came the [i]kayhin's[/i] song as he directed the thread in and out to replace her faded natural tattoos. 'There is no pain,' he hummed, 'there [i]is[/i] no pain.'

'There is no pain,' she breathed, her body relaxing. A shiver ran through her as she calmed. It always caused her hairs to stand on edge, the pure power that lay in simply... doing nothing, nothing at all. Not resisting, not standing on edge, not stressing, not steeling yourself for the thread. Simply being in the moment, being the moment. She closed her eyes and listened to the hum of the ink thread, the whispering of her skin as it leapt to make way, the movements of her [i]idda-ta[/i] as he directed the sacred ink with his beauteous voice, the air that was slowly drawn into her body before departing, the stone beneath them and the cave walls all around. Skin parted, ink flowed in and locked in a lover's embrace beneath it, and what could not latch on departed as the skin parted again. Parting skin sent shivers through her form, disturbed the harmony of her spirit and body, and that brought about the pain. But when you were at one with yourself, when you could gaze into your self as though looking into a clear lake on a twice-moonlit night, then there was no pain. She smiled and opened her glowing eyes, felt the controlled, sure-footed power surging within her, and released it steadily with a long breath that seemed to go on for minutes.

'Good,' murmured the [i]kayhin[/i] as he continued to weave the inks into a great flowing pattern across her shoulders, back, arms, chest, neck, and face. Even as they were woven in some seemed to disappear and reappear, some changed colours, before returning to the original, and after a while disappeared completely. The body of a witch was not like normal bodies, and when magically charged ink was woven in the dance of skin and ink could bring about myriad things - intense rejection and pain was most common in those who had no control. But Rima-Tinrur had been taught well, and she rode the once-wild camel of her emotion skillfully and with confidence, steering it as she pleased.

When the ritual was complete the [i]kayhin[/i] rose, and his pupil rose with him and inspected her arms and chest, finding nothing there. 'Ah,' she said, not truly surprised. A few seconds passed and the inky patterns slowly reappeared and presented themselves for her inspection. They were not like the wild spattering of coloured tattoos and ink that the [i]kayhin[/i] boasted, and they were not the floral vines of before, but carefully wrought symmetrical spirals that wove in and out of each other in great shapes, leaving much skin unmarked. She smiled and looked at the aged [i]kayhin[/i].

'I'm a woman now?' The old humenaki released a singing breath and opened his eyes, revealing two black inky abysses beneath his coloured eyelids. And for the first time, he beheld her with his eyes. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, by any standard; taller than even the tallest of men, of solid, lithe, and slender frame, fingers calloused from the jagged mounts she so loved to climb despite being fully capable of carrying herself to their summit using her divine powers. Perhaps her pert breasts and unusually thin hips, for a woman, would be seen by some as flaws - but it was clear that she did not think so. Her face was angular, small, and essentially feminine; petite upturned nose, small lips, high cheekbones. Her speckled amber-green eyes were large however and stood out, sparkling as they were, and subtly commanded attention. Her dark brown hair was cropped short - she hated when it billowed into her face -, and the white feathers of her forelock were small while those many-coloured ones at the back grew long and seemed almost like two wings at the back of her head.

'You are, my dear.' He said finally, sadly. 'You were always going to be.' She approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders and her cheek on his chest.

'I love you [i]idda-ta[/i].' She murmured. He made no response, but placed a hand upon her head and rubbed it gently.

After a few moments passed between them in silence, he spoke. 'Do you want me to take you home?' She looked up at him, wanted to say something meaningful and wise-sounding like [i]you are my home[/i], but only nodded. He gently disentangled himself from her and gestured to the thin, basic hides that made up her chest covering and loincloth. She gestured and they flew to her, wrapping themselves about her form, and a sharpened staff of bone flipped from the cave entranced and whirled into her grip. Outside, the [i]kayhin[/i] had already summoned the winds to him and was flying away. Wordless power surged about her as the song of her soul merged instinctively with mana, her form levitated for a few seconds, and then she barrelled out of the cave in a great pool of power and sped after the flowing druid. Her eyes glowed as they never had before, blood sped through her and her heart drummed. She...

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[i]She was a woman.[/i]

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[indent][list][*][hider=Summary]
A witch, who is simultaneously a Servant, is born two a Qabar-Kirkanshir couple. They recognise this as a child 'touched by the gods' and call in a druid of the Circle of the Turning Away, who takes her away to care for her and ensure she is able to control her powers. She grows, with the [i]kayhin[/i] using spiritsinging to control, and slowly increase, the inflow of magical energies into her over the years as she steadily grows more able to handle it. They remain isolated from all people as he readies her magically and teaches her discipline, control, and how to feel. Centrally, he tells her to always speak, think, feel, and so exist, [i]clearly, concisely, directly[/i].

When she is grown into a woman, the [i]kayhin[/i] tattoos her body with magic inks, since the bioluminescent tattoos that humenaki are naturally born with are fading - a sign that she is maturing from childhood into adulthood. With that done, she is now ready to go out into the world. The [i]kayhin[/i] offers to take her back to her family, and she agrees.[/hider]
[*][hider=Might][centre]| 5MP and 5DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | 3DP towards Music |
2DP towards Dance |[/centre]
3 Might and 2 Free Title slots to Consecrate Rima-Tinrur as a Hero
[indent][i]Soulsinger V[/i]: Rather than singing aloud, this person is able to communicate with the world and so weave mana, telluric energies, and the Worldsong by using the song of her soul or spirit alone(2DP towards Inspiration).[/indent][/hider]
[*]
[hider=Prestige]+5 Points to Rima-Tinrur (~15,000 chars.)[/hider]
[/list][/indent]