[color=0072bc][center][h1]Evening - Frostmark - House Vyapult[/h1][/center] [center]A Collab from BcTheEntity and [color=7ea7d8]Red Watcher[/color][/center] Pronunciation Vah-ran-gih-ri-an Mer-tah-vo [as in vote]-dah Sneh-hoe-vah-Luka Vin-dah-tah-lair [/color] [color=7ea7d8]He could feel the half frozen, half wet ground beneath his feet. While he couldn’t always hear the sound it made, the crunching beneath his feet gave him some kind of indication of why children love to jump into the leaves or stomp their feet. With great pain he was leaving the mountains behind, but things in the wind have shifted. Something violent, or so the Wind Father whispered in his ear. So, he reluctantly agreed to go to this Marble People funeral. “Why are you even laughing this Marble People funeral?” Snehova’luka asks. “I heard funny things about the Marble People funeral,” Mertavodah responds. “Like what?” Snehova looks at him. “I hear the put people in boxes,” “How do their Spirits move to the Other Plane?” Vindhögtalare hasn’t been paying attention up to now, she has been actually watching the woods. “Varangyrian told me something so funny,” Merta laughs, “He says that Spirits are in-cor-poreal. They move through things.” “The Marble People are strange,” Snehova states. “That they are,” Merta pauses, scanning ahead. Kihvar then, the Marble People’s Twin Faith a parasitic serpent if you ask him, it’s the most noticeable thing. The rest of their city, that’s how you say it, is mostly of wooden and stone houses, with its - uh what’s the word - pebble roads . They do not have roads in the Frozen Tears, simply the trails left behind by thousands of footsteps on the land. If the Marble People’s oh - what it is called - church is the thing that stands out then so do they every time they walk into town. Their skin protected by the white clay they turn into paint, and their eyes coated in black as well to keep the sun out of their eyes. Their clothes are not so bright. And some people see the silver Vind to wear or he to wear as some sort of front. He’s not entirely sure the importance of silver to the Marble People. They are constantly asking for more, and are under the impression that they are hoarding it within the mountains. The Marble People do not track the Mountain Father’s steps. They do not understand his quakes. His shifts. The Silver is a gift, not to be gouged or gashed. But they want to take big tools to the stone and carve into the Mountain Father’s flesh. Here it is, the Ke-ep. Not sure what they are keeping, but that is how it was explained to him. [/color] “Velikynaz Varangyrian?” came the querying voice of one of his servants. “The guests from House Echo have arrived.” Ah, Merta. Excellent timing; he’d been preparing for their arrival for an hour or so now, putting on one of his better red outfits to accept their arrival and grooming himself accordingly. “Send somebody to pick them up, then,” he instructed. “I’ll greet them in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.” It was always a little amusing when Merta arrived - his lack of understanding of etiquette could be humorous and frustrating in due turn. And he’d been told that Merta had a habit of staring at the soldiers outside the gate, to the point of frightening them. Again, amusing, but frustrating. Still, a schedule like that offered plenty of time, both for Varangyrian to finish preparations and for Mertavodah’s retinue to be brought to the courtyard, just outside Dom-Vyapult. Within ten minutes, Varan had finished preparations and arrived in position; breathing in the chill of the air, he folded his hands behind the small of his back and smiled as Mertavodah’s retinue entered the courtyard. [color=7ea7d8]Probably made the soldier shake life a leaf again. Strange considering how he is not even a trained. Varan is a strange fellow, always has been. He has the clashing personality of the incoming and outgoing tide. He still clings to some aspects of the Marble People’s traditions, while attempting to learn of theirs. While he trusts Varan more than some others, it’s always at a distance. There is little Varan could do to further his trust in him. Of course he will be polite and kind, maybe even maintain their friendship. But he is always reminded that they carve into the flesh of the Forest Father. [/color] [color=7ea7d8]“Varan,” Merta greets with a smile, for as long as they were maintaining their friendship he would drop formality, “I bring adequate gifts of arrival. Trinkets.” he looks over at Snehova, who is currently digging in the pocket of his robes. Clumsily offering a smoothed river stone, “We found it. Curiously shiny. And if you look in just the right light, parts of it shimmer green.”[/color] “Merta! A pleasure to see you again,’ Varan offered to Merta, ‘and likewise to you both, Snehova’luka, Vindhögtalare.” His smile was genuine, of course, but in the back of his mind, he awaited an inevitable trinket… this time, it was a river stone, which he accepted, turning it in the light to get that green glimmer to show. So far as he was told, these items were offered as gifts under the belief that, by having been placed in their path, their Land Mother had gifted it to them with the intent of gifting it on to their host. Him, primarily. He had already accrued a shelf’s worth of such items, including a feather, and a piece of fur that the People of the Frozen Tears couldn’t stitch into their outfits. He’d found use for that as a coaster, something Merta had seemed thrilled rather than offended by at the time. “Ah, yes, thank you kindly,” he eventually concluded, pocketing the rock to find a place for it later. ‘I’ll be sure to repay the favour when I can. Now, shall we get out of the cold and discuss business over dinner? You must be famished.” [color=7ea7d8]He’ll never understand the Marble People and their need for set meals. It also takes him a significant amount of concentration to listen to Varan. It took a lot of effort to watch Varan’s lips, to catch the words he missed, and to puzzle together Varan’s speech. It was a mixture of his lack of hearing certain tones, and the language of theirs. “Not particularly no,” Merta responds, “But you can - en-light-en.” He's sure that is the word, “Me on your Marble Funeral customs.”[/color] [hr] [hr] [color=0072bc][center][h1]Midday - Cathedral of Twin Heavens [/h1][/center][/color] “And remember, it is a somber occasion,” Varan reminded Merta. “We need to show proper respect for the fallen... at least for Prince Daymian. Most will not miss the Mad King, but showing as much would nonetheless be a breach of etiquette.” [color=7ea7d8]“I am not going to start stripping naked at the funeral Varan,” Merta laughs, “Though your Marble People traditions are always so entertaining. In our Rites and traditions, the death of a person is a celebration into the new life. I am going to tell you in - how is it said, Er-nesty, that I am not looking forward to stepping into one of your serpent churches for a somber occasion. I think your people need to learn how to play an instrument. Make them less somber.”[/color] “We have instruments at these,” Varan replied defensively. “They’re called organs. They’re very large. And somber. And we’ll probably also have a choir.” [color=7ea7d8]“Sad instruments for sad Marble People in their sad serpent walls,” Merta responds,[/color] “...it’s a sad occasion, Merta,” he pointed out. “Again, mostly because of Prince Daymian, who I imagine everyone in their right minds will miss dearly. Poor fellow didn’t deserve to go out alongside Colyt II… though the walls are definitely very sad all the time. Or at least disturbing, I’m sure you’ve seen the Church of Life and Death.” [color=7ea7d8]“Yes, sad,” Merta responds, “But only because of Who It Is. I will never understand your kin’s jaded sense of knowledge. Death is not Sad to us. Death is the cycle of all things. And we know when we die we are greeted by the Deities and Ancestors, we crossed the Threshold into the New Life. There is nothing sad about that. And everyone is honored in the same way. Do they put what the Marble People consider the lowest of their people in sad Marble boxes in the walls of the parasitic serpent and have twisted displays of both luxury and somber et-i-quet?” [/color] “...not in the cathedral specifically, no,” Varan noted with a nod. “I believe funerals are held for the majority, however.” [color=7ea7d8]“Aye, but looked down by the Marble People, that is the point. It is a sad occasion dressed in jewels, the Marble People are so curious what they manage to display,”[/color] He couldn’t quite argue there. It was, more or less, a grand event in all aspects: sad, but also bejewelled. Not at all like the... well. "And what? Do you celebrate your kindred’s death?" he questioned bluntly. "It may not be sad directly, but you are nonetheless separated from them for possibly decades…" He silenced himself as the carriage came to a halt. A glance out the window confirmed: they’d arrived at the Cathedral of Twin Heavens. Nodding to Merta, he donned the appropriate mourning shroud, and stepped out to meet the ceremonies. [color=7ea7d8]“Everyone in our clan is equal,” Merta adds quietly. Varan is like the tides. Sometimes you hear the Marble People in Varan’s tongue. There is no concept in the Frozen Tears of “poor” and “wealthy”. They all die and they all are shrouded in the same way. Wrapped in cloth. Then bestowed gifts to take with them into the new life. It is not the same as the Twin Faith’s concept of afterlife. It is not a Sky Sanctuary or a Place of Peace. It is a place that exists parallel to their own, the Spirits become Guides, and messengers of their Deities. Entering the serpent church, everything here is echoy. Sound bounces from one wall to the next. It’s quite hard to hear in here. And in truth he has no real care for the Marble People. Daymian's death means nothing to him. It’s not his kin. However, there are many things he doesn’t understand about the motives of their politics. Unfortunately there is no longer benefit to remaining neutral. Eventually someone will attempt to storm into the mountains. He has to be here. To listen. To absorb. To understand. So he can use their words against them. He will not be taken advantage of as just a mountain savage.[/color] Varan did hear Merta’s final statement, but... what could he do? He could support a new monarch, or even take over himself if the motive struck him, but a king’s power came from their people. That was the truth behind the throne: one acted at the behest of one’s fellows. For the Loyce’s, that was the archdukes; for Varangyrian VII, that was the Princes beneath him; and so on down the line. And Merta? His whole tribe. But, now wasn’t the time to ponder that. Quiet, he witnessed as the former King and Prince were entered, and… well. Now that he looked around, it really was a sad place. Somber, yes, and certainly grand, but… always somber, no matter the occasion. Every ceremony was somber, and at least insofar as the Twin Faith in Kivhar City went, often extreme in this idea of sobriety. “Life and Death”, no need to remind the empire they were doomed if they didn’t follow through. And yet, the speeches given were in their own way touching. Even Anyamara had her say, and… Prince Daymian had always been kind. That was what Adanion loved of him, no? Still, the applause he offered to her was perfunctory. As for Sharles, well. A lot more personal insight, plainly. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, just a touch of ambition to the end? His applause was offered here too, though only a touch more powerful than with the Bastard Maiden. It wouldn’t do to be seen showing too much support here, of all places.