Saga - OT Moonwater Perfume: A Courtesan's Tale---FINISHED 9/16!!!!!!

Title: Moonwater Perfume
Author: leiamoody
Timeframe: 0.1-0.10ABY
Characters: OC's (Palai Cerunna, Josym Di'sallach, etc.)
Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance
Summary: In the safety of her book of hours, a courtesan records her thoughts.
Notes: Written for the Dear Diary '07 Challenge.

(Link to the Fanfiction.net posting with uninterrupted chapters: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8701222/1/Moonwater-Perfume)

Written during The Fourth Veiled Hour
Najahal is glowing through the curtains, shining down upon us. She was once the guide from the holy place of Ysonesse, our glorious and beloved home world of legend. In the days soon after the Deluge, the emergency intervention was attributed to her, the moon goddess, when they came to rescue our people from the floods. They took us away and placed us upon the shores of another planet. Ages upon ages ago, we were given another home.

But somewhere in our blood, this world has never felt like a home. And we have treated the lands poorly, and turned ourselves into creatures so cruel, so harsh, so cold. Locked away at night, or crawling through the streets in the veiled hours seeking the false pleasures of sin. To be honest, it isn't much different in the daytime, when Lisou holds ascendancy in the sky.

Moon or sun, it doesn't matter; we're blessed with nothing. Just cursed with everything that is base and impure in human nature. Such is the nature of life on Deiu.

I am in the rarefied world of Commitment, which is one form of damnation. The second might seem to be worse, for it means no protection for the poor girls caught up in its tangles. Among the dark and dirty corners, the cold duracrete alleys, the crawling vines of the mountain passes...what places to conduct their deeds. Maybe it can be said I at least bear some good fortune in my state, given comfortable beds under my back during my performances. After it's over, when I'm alone in my chamber, I can retreat into the shelter of thick plush blankets and pillows so I can sleep. And I have the protection of the manor, high in the ranges, behind the fortress walls. Isn't it fortunate that I'm here instead of down there? In the city, I would be penniless. I would be at the mercy of any client carting about half a jig in his purse. The only saving grace comes at the end of the act. He collapses into his empty dreams. Only then does the poor girl (it's always girls placing themselves at the whims of the tradesmen and farmers) have a chance to unlock her heart from the prison she has to keep it in.

Surely I'm favored? I've never been forced to lay with a man for money or shelter unless I had some choice in the matter first. Though I'm stuck in Commitment, I do have some free will. It is certain sure that I must depend upon the men of the establishment for survival. If I were cast out tomorrow by the Prestat...well, I'm not young, so what would become of me? The workers would probably still take me for an hour, as sex is so often such an act of desperation that it leaves very little room for conscious decision. I would hope they might take pity on me. But if not, then I would most likely die. A cortigia banished from one of the Houses would never find work among the bars and other gathering places of the dregs. The prejudice of the lower class against the aristos is too entrenched here.

Sometimes I have to ask myself the questions I don't want to feel...the things I don't want to know. Tonight I would have to say, "So, Palai, are you any different? Truly? If the goddess we thought guided us eons ago is nothing more than a moon, then what are you called?" Really, in the end, I can't lie to myself. What is my answer? "Only a courtesan."

 

A wonderful OC here. Her hopelessness shines through quite cleary. I look forward to more.

 

I?m trapped in the damnation.

For some reason, that hit me hard. This emphatically doth not sucketh; it's soaked with a despair and darkness you can almost taste. Please let there be light at the end of the tunnel!

 

Thanks, VaderLVR64. I'll be the first to admit that Palai's situation is desperate in many ways, but as I hope to show, there's more to her life than just the misery of being stuck in a world where she's dependent upon the whims of noblemen. Thanks for reading.

EDIT: Ah,furrylittlebantha, you snuck up on me there! [face_shocked]
But thanks for reading and your input, too. As you can see from this installment, there's definitely some light coming up in Palai's life.

Now, for the next installment of this diary. I got the idea to do a couple of lists from The Pillow Book by Sei Shonagan. (Yes, it was also a movie where Ewan Mcgregor was completely naked in it. Good times all around. ). Throughout her diary, Shonagan made various lists of things that she liked or disliked, what have you. I thought it might be nice to do the same with Palai's diary.

Written during some brief moments in The First Passing of Lisou

Things That Make Me Happy

Things That Make Me Happy
1. The crispness of a fire out under the stars, with the scent of the caya wood drifting out of the smoke. So wonderful!

2. The color indigo. Especially in the shirra blossoms which appear in the first days of spring. And indigo shimmersilk, which is truly a delight to see at the break of day, thrown over the back of my settee.

3. Rain falling gently against the leaves of the amartis trees outside my window.

4. Those times in the day when I can pause in one of the alcoves and count the Order of Suiame on my beads. It?s a necessary time of meditation to maintain my composure.

5. Feeling the giddy dizziness after dancing several rounds of a Cailie Quadrangle. All dancing is a pure joy, but doing a Cailie brings to mind memories of childhood, when I used to practice the steps with our dancing mistress in the schoolroom at the academy.

6. Fresh bergamines taken from the orchards. They are so bright, the most brilliant yellow one could ever imagine, and taste so sweet, especially paired with the nectar of aurora starfruit.

Things That Make My Heart Beat Faster

1. A new flask of moonwater perfume placed upon my dressing table, with the first rays of Lisou touching the crystal, making it glimmer and shine.

2. The words of Suiame when an orator speaks them at night in the amphitheater during the Festival of Remembrance.

3. Walking through the gardens at dusk, watching the glowers fly out from their nests to dance along the pathways.

4. Blue eyes gazing upon me from across the ballroom last night. Beautiful beyond all reckoning, glowing with humor as the one who looked at me laughed at a joke.

5. The vision of a glorious divine creature, a young man with fair hair, dressed in gold and white like a prince from the stories of my youth, he who possesses those astounding blue eyes, crossing the room to speak with me.

6. The sound of his voice.

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If by some chance anyone would like to get a PM when I update this thing, drop a line here.

 

I love the idea with the lists.

It really gives a good insight into yourt OC character, who seems to have gquite an interesting personality.

Sure, Id like to have a PM, becasue I usually do not hang around in "the Saga", but I surely would like to know what is happending to her during the coming year.

cheers,

VeryBusy

 

And we have treated the lands poorly, and turned ourselves into creatures so cruel, so harsh, so cold. Locked away at night, or crawling through the streets in the veiled hours seeking the false pleasures of sin.

Isn't that always the way. Sin, sin and more delicious- no, I mean terrible sin. Destroying planets is what sentient beings seem created to do.


The only saving grace comes at the end of the act. He collapses into his empty dreams. Only then does the poor girl (it's always girls placing themselves at the whims of the tradesmen and farmers) have a chance to unlock her heart from the prison she has to keep it in. Only for the rarest hours can the lumieres become themselves. Not the toys and trinkets of common men.

All right now, I'm starting to feel guilty, and I don't know why - I've never had the company of a courtesan before.


I'm not young, so what would become of me? The workers would probably still take me for an hour, as sex is so often such an act of desperation that it leaves very little room for conscious decision.

Yes, well. I feel bad for this poor kid. Isn't there anything else she could do with her life?

I like what you're doing here with this; it's genuinely stirring up my emotions.

I'd like to be on the pm list.

 

Thanks for reading, verybusy and BrentusofGath. And you've been added to the PM list.
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Written In The Second Twilight Hour
It was such a ridiculous way to be presented to him, having to wear the veil over my face as if he's never seen me before. Perhaps his father did not know we had spoken at the reception four nights ago. Our time in conversation together then was so brief, and we had really only exchanged the most inconsequential of phrases back and forth. Until his uncle came along and pulled me away from the best moment I have had in months. I do not belong to the son. He has not yet reached the Age of Ascendancy, so the heir does not have a courtesan of his own.

But that is about to change. Within seven full circles of Lisou, I will be the heir's first woman. It shall be my duty to initiate him into the ways of the flesh.

This is not how the tradition is normally conducted. To put an older courtesan in control of the first act is customary...but not when she belongs to others of the young heir's family. I was not sent into seclusion like one under Commitment is required to do before she is set to begin the long privileged access to whatever whim her future benefactor desires. And as those desires increase along with his experience, the young man becomes no different than the other spoiled scions of the Houses.

Perhaps that is why I was summoned to the Prestat's offices this morning. He must be taking some sort of perverse amusement in pulling me away from my usual place in his brother's bed, and is now placing the heir under my tutelage. It might be punishment for both of us, because we spoke when my usual benefactor did not accompany me. While we did not break any laws, we did violate one rule within those heaps of archaic codes of etiquette so entrenched in this wretched society. That rule, of course, is that one who belongs to the Houses does not speak to those in Commitment. So to place his most precious possession in my care is a way to remind us both of our places in the universe. We are both at the whims of the Prestat. But to be honest, I feel that his poor son is even more unfortunate than I am, since he is burdened by the expectations and pressures of one is to inherit not only a title and property, but a family reputation. To be the Prestat of Quodris and a member of one of the five Establishers, those vaunted families who first founded the Prestature back in the unknown days when Ysonesse was still our world, is the greatest responsibility the poor child will have to face in his life.

Can I really say we are being condemned to some horrible fate? His father might view it as punishment, but I prefer to view it as something else. Being given to his son means that I suffer a loss of status; going from the older male to the younger one is looked upon as a demotion in our society. And his son, of course, has to face the stigma of not having a properly selected courtesan for his first encounter. Yet we were drawn together by someone or something...this is obvious. We seem to have some sort of connection with each other that might very well transcend whatever others might view as condemnation for certain improper actions.

Only time will tell.

 

It shall be my duty to initiate him into the ways of the flesh.

Hot damn!




And his son, of course, has to face the stigma of not having a properly selected courtesan for his first encounter.

I wonder what the other, noncourtesan women on that planet think of their husbands having official misstresses? Even if they call them "courtesans", they're really misstresses. And I wonder how I can get to that planet.


We seem to have some sort of connection with each other that might very well transcend whatever others might view as condemnation for certain improper actions.

Uh-oh, I'm interested to hear how that goes. Maybe the Force is at work here.

Good update! More, please.

 

Her lists were so moving! Lovely! She's a wonderful OC! Please put me on your PM list, I don't want to miss an entry.

 

I really hope you do continue this. I did read it this morning before I rushed out the door to work.

It probably is the most intiguing and interesting journal I have read that was started with this challenge, and incredibly brave and inventive with a type of character profession that has been hinted at in the GFFA but not fully explored.

Your wording is beautiful and drips with meaning and feeling. We feel with this woman.

 

I like the story. It's somewhat sad, but she seems to be optimisitc about that young man.
Maybe she can make a change.

 

Such a bittersweet life for a 'lady' You have an interesting and intricate society I know it took a lot of time to design.

I love your list I think I'll go write up a list of my own loves.

I look forward to seeing how the new pairing works out,it sounds lovely.

Can I get a Pm when you update.

 

BrentusofGath
Thanks for popping in once again.

I wonder what the other, noncourtesan women on that planet think of their husbands having official misstresses?

Like any society with a tradition like this, most of the wives aren't happy with the system. But some accept it as tradition, and others are actually relieved that their husbands go somewhere else for sex. (I should probably post my Deiu notes somewhere. It goes into a little more detail about how this system of Commitment works).

Maybe the Force is at work here.

Among other things.

VaderLVR64
Thanks, and I will add you to the PM list.

Noelie
Thank you.

We feel with this woman.

I hope so. It's a tough position to be in for a woman who doesn't want to be there. But when there are no other real options...the word "trapped" comes to mind.

MsLanna
Also thank you for reading.

Maybe she can make a change.

Oh, most definitely.

Lea-El
Thank you for coming by. And I'll definitely send you a PM for updates.

I love your list I think I'll go write up a list of my own loves.

Good. It's really a neat way to get inside your character's mind and find out more about them as a person.

 

I've really enjoyed the way you've let us glimpse the society with little nudges and complaints from the OC. Her viewpoint of being demoted and yet she's not unhappy about it is quite a good idea.

Loved your descriptions as well.

Please put me on your PM list.

 

Written at the Third Chime
They are an ever changing blue...his eyes, I mean. I do believe the dear boy has enchanted me. There's no way I could possibly deny this, considering I'm mixing up words. But why should I deny this feeling? It is true, it is mine, and it is glorious!

Everything is so strange now. But life is best when it is extraordinary. And so a new thread was woven into the tapestry of my existence this morning, out in the garden, underneath the nousila flowering arches.

This meeting is part of the endless ritual bound up in the process of introducing an heir to that state which it is deemed he shall have full control of for the rest of his life. Many times, it's a laborious, occasionally frightening, affair, with the heir and his assigned companion going through a round of back-and-forth conversation. He of course talks the most. The courtesan who is wise always keeps her eyes on the floor or the wall while the Prestat Apparent waxes forth on whatever topic he chooses.

But that is unpleasant to think about...and I have no heart for dark matters right now. So I will put that aspect away in an appropriate musty corner of my thinking.

This morning, under the nousila, we sat together, over the second meal, as he had requested. He missed the first due to the fact was up late last night, until the Fifth Veiled Hour to be exact. A very naughty and capricious action, but he was doing something that is actually quite amusing, and nothing I would have expected from the young man. He was wandering about the gallery, with the many dour holoportraits of his ill-begotten ancestors staring down. He was pacing back and forth on a long carpet of exquisite antiquity...it's absurd in some way, but funny...the dear boy was reciting poetry! Out loud, aided by the friendly spirits of the fermented sort. Specifically, a bottle or two of his father's finest Belinigransa helped along his sudden urge to recite 3,000 year old verses while heroically battling the still enemy of an armor suit with a rolled-up scroll. It was his first experience with inebriation. Taking bottles of the finest vintage and most rare sort from the private cellars is not unusual. Almost every child of the nobility tries and fails or succeeds in some silly attempt at rebellion. It's one of the unofficial but necessary foibles the youth of the aristocracy need to do while living in this rigid society. But his act was so minor, really low-key, compared to the escapades that I have heard of other young sons doing. Only two bottles of wine were consumed. The scroll did not suffer from any chipping. Even the suit of armor is none the worse for wear. Perhaps the only thing which was injured somewhat were the words of my favorite poet. But it is recorded that Suiame was most fond of beautiful young men, and I think it likely she would forgive her poems being slightly garbled by a lovely yet drunken creature.

But I'm losing my train of thought...we had our meeting in the late morning sunlight, over a small meal of aleori patis and far too many cups of Cyren Star Dark Kahve. But he needed all the help he could get in banishing his headache. Because of his condition, it was necessary to roll out the awning so the brightness of the day would not have too much of a harsh impact on him.

I told him he could have canceled for a better time. He reached across the table, touched my hand, and said, "Absolutely not. If I had to miss finally talking to you just because I did something stupid, then I have no right to be around you."

An unexpected statement that was sincere. I cannot label precisely how I knew he was being honest and not just making a poor attempt at flattery. His eyes show true sincerity. They are the shining blue of mythical lost seas, and change ever so slightly just like the ocean from deep to light when he is happy. His smile reflects that joy, and it is an expression that tells the truth. Smiles may often lie, but his do not. I'm certain sure of this.

There is much more to tell about this morning, but I must report to the Prestatia's chambers. The heir's mother wishes to speak with me.
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Written after Six Bells
The meeting with Her Ladyship was quite pleasant, and a great relief and surprise. Now I can see where he gets his joy of life from...she has such a calm aura about her. My audience with her lasted for two hours, far longer than I had anticipated. The Prestatia was candid about the aspirations she holds for her eldest child. Her hopes for his future are rather different from those held by her husband, or so it would seem. She wants her son to take on further education, and see the galaxy, but not in The Grand Tour tradition. Doing that would entail booking a penthouse suite on the most fashionable star liner, then doing a flying rotation through the Core Worlds. His mother wants him to touch the soil of multiple worlds, and interact with the diverse populations of the galaxy.

For a moment just then, the air in the sitting room felt strange. I am not a Force sensitive, but I remembered that his maternal line, the House Huranz of Novordoras, contributed many children to the Jedi Order. It gave those younglings a chance to leave this forsaken world, and lead lives of purpose. Perhaps he, like many of his ancestors, holds this power.

Not that it could help him now. The Jedi are gone forever. So there's no escape for him.

Again, though, I must turn my mind away from such thoughts...I must finish recording the rest of what took place this morning at our auspicious brunch meeting.

After we had settled in with slices of fresh baked aleori and our first cups of kahve, he started the conversation straight away by asking, "How old are you?"

I had to pause mid-bite at that point. Was he going to reject me because I am older? It isn't unheard of in this society. Several heirs have turned away the courtesans picked for them because they weren't in the first gleaming. As if they have any right to expect that every single one of us are pubescent virgins. How ridiculous.

Surely this couldn't be his intention.

Perhaps he was reading my mind, or else my distress showed on my face, because he said, "I'm sorry. That isn't appropriate. Mother always taught me to watch my tongue. Obviously, those lessons never took to my brain."

Then he reached across the table and touched my hand. (He has lovely fingers. Artistic looking, like they were sculpted). "Again, I'm sorry. I just have a curiosity about people. I like to know about them."

I felt comfortable enough to answer his question. "If you must know, I am twenty-five. Such a crone by our standards." There was still a queasy feeling in my stomach. Having to admit how many years I've existed in the universe is a very uncomfortable matter.

He laughed! "Twenty-five is not old! Unless you're joking, because that is a funny statement."

"Of course I'm serious. Do you know anything about the culture we're surrounded by?" I realized just how much the isolation of being educated solely by tutors in schoolrooms had affected his awareness of worldly matters.

He stopped smiling. "It's that bad...truly that awful?" The poor boy was genuinely shocked."Yes, it is. By twenty, the women in your class have to be married, and must have at least one child by my age. To be considered a wife and mother in our society means old age. For one like myself, the end of youth comes the moment when our first benefactor pierces us."

That stopped our conversation for some time. We were able to get some more pastry and kahve into our bellies before he spoke again.

"Do you like poetry?"

Now this was a pleasant topic, and very close to my heart.

"I adore it. The best art form ever created by any intelligent species."

"I'll have to disagree with you. Drama is a pure use of words, and more active."

"Which makes poetry passive in your opinion. Why is that?" The written word in verse form has always been the highest artistic expression to me. Even when it is spoken during festival time under the moonlight, the words of old never fail to resonate. Poetry is the ultimate manifestation of the soul and its aspirations, the first form of communication humans and other species used to record their origins. Drama certainly has a place in the universe, but it can never surpass poetry.

"Are you planning to teach me that I'm wrong?"

"I shall make it a personal mission to further your education in more ways than you can anticipate."

Blue eyes look fascinating when they are animated by a wicked gleam. "Are you making a promise?" He is clearly going to enjoy our time together.

"Yes indeed." I'm going to enjoy this too.

 

It sounds like they are falling in love. The way she keeps thinking about him, his eyes, the way he got drunk, the fear that she was too old for him. She will lose her equilibrium if she is not careful.

Are courtisans allowed to love? I assume the boy will have to take a wife as well.

Great job. Love the world building and the way the characters interact. Looking forward to more.

 

Such amazing OCs here. Her whole culture is fascinating.

Perhaps he was reading my mind, or else my distress showed on my face, because he said, ?I?m sorry. That isn?t appropriate. Mother always taught me to watch my tongue. Obviously, those lessons never took to my brain.? Then he reached across the table and touched my hand. (He has lovely fingers. Artistic looking, like they were sculpted). ?Again, I?m sorry. I just have a curiosity about people. I like to know about them.?

Once more, truth shown in his eyes. It?s strange how sincerity seems to be part of this boy?s soul. Perhaps it?s hardwired into his chromosomes, for the same quality is present with his mother.

Realizing this only makes it more impossible to resist him. Not that I want to, of course.

Lovely.

 

You've clearly thought out this entire society. Your characters are very real. I'll definitely be reading as you post more.

 

You produces an interesting society and an unusual look into a world most know little about.

I love that the punishment turned out to be a love match and wish you had gone on with the story.

this was good work

 

They do seem at the least attracted.

As with any other society with professional courtesans I am assuming that rarely are they allowed to jump the line to women that are married. There is often a wide division of the two roles.

The mother is right about how the son should see the galaxy. It would be good for him.

 

So the boy likes getting drunk and spouting ancient poetry while sparring with an empty suit using only a parchment? Sounds like the Galactic Senate. Methinks a career in politics is already worming its way through him.

And that courtesan knows just what to say to spur the boy on. This is getting better and I'm wondering if Vader will appear from the shadows, thinking the boy's Force signature may make him a threat.

 

The drunken boy recites poetry in his galery of ancestors fighting a suit of armour. Now that is something I would have liked to see.

She really is in love, how wonderful.
'Love is to think of somebody without thinking about it.' (Can't remember who said that, sorry...)

And you write it so poetic. It has it's very own flavour, sad and beautiful. *sigh*

I like his mother. that guy could become something solid. I wonder where his mother was imported from.

Realizing this only makes it more impossible to resist him. Not that I want to, of course.

?I shall make it a personal mission to further your education in more ways than you can anticipate.?
I want all the details.

Wonderful update. Would you mind putting me on your pm list?

 

UP!

 

Written during Najahal's Last Phase
"Call me Josym."

We had an interesting second meeting, to say the least. With the moon hiding herself until the next phase begins, things around the manor become rather peculiar. On other worlds, it works in the opposite fashion, with the full moon creating odd behaviors. But on Deiu, it is the absence of lunarlight which turns many of us around from our normal selves. Such is the way of things here.

I think the disappearance of Najahal must be the only explanation for why he wanted to speak with me in a closet. To be more accurate, it was a wardrobe room, used to store ceremonial robes. We spoke to each other in a storage space, with only a handheld lumi between us providing some small backdrop of light.

I couldn't resist asking him if the rest of his father's vintage wine happened to fuel this particular choice of venue to have our second talk. As I expected, he was merely influenced by a momentary whim.

"I wanted to speak with you again. And I didn't want to schedule another meeting via my father's secretary to the Cortigiamira," was his response. And honestly, I'm glad for this. A second meeting between the courtesan and heir is often customary. But like the first one, or any subsequent encounters, it must be arranged through the proper channels. Which is fine for impersonal relations...but that isn't the case with Josym and myself.

There. I was able to write his name. It seems like such a simple thing, to put a name to paper. But names carry meaning, and they bear weight in any society. And to not only know his name, but to have the ability to write it freely...and to speak it in his presence without fear of censure...is wonderful.

"Josym." I said it out loud right after he told me it was all right to do it. "Is that an inherited name?" It's customary for the heir to have the name of a male ancestor, which always comes from the father's side, never the mother's. I've been doing some research into the Di'sallach family line (my usual benefactor, Lord Reunahn, who happens to be the Prestat's brother, has enlisted my help in compiling the official family chronicles). Yet the first name does not appear in the Prestat's lineage. I've never checked his mother's family records, so I was taking an educated guess that was where the name came from.

"Yes, though you won't find it in the records. My mother's brother held the name when he was alive." Even in the dim light provided by the lumi, I noticed the frown that came to his face like an uninvited guest. And I knew then that he was gifted with that power which blessed, then ultimately cursed, his mother's line.

Josym holds the Force within his blood.

His maternal uncle was erased from the records because he was a Jedi and was killed in the Purge. Soon after the formation of the Empire, the Prestat had deleted all mention of previous Jedi Knights and Masters from the first official chronicles of the House Di'sallach. There were very few from his direct line, but many generations have married to the bloodline, and have gifted many of the children born from those unions with Force sensitivity. During the course of helping Lord Reunahn in compiling notes for the second chronicles, I found several discs hidden in an unused closet in the library. I knew it would be unwise to show these to him, so I hid them in my pouch, then took them back to my chamber. I've only had a chance to peek at one of them. From what I've seen, these discs contain precious records. What the Prestat could delete from the official family history almost twenty years ago, he could not erase from the annals of galactic ages. These discs contain the names, images, and information about those Jedi ancestors. Josym needed to know about this.

So perhaps it wasn't odd after all that we had our meeting in such a tucked-away location. It gave me the chance to present him with the discs. His past shouldn't remain hidden. He has a right to know where he comes from, and where his potential might lead him.

I had the discs wrapped up in an indigo ribbon. Indigo, the color dearest to my heart. And in the dim light, his eyes were tinted indigo, dark and intense. So they change color according to his mood. How lovely.

When I handed over the special present, he seemed more curious than suspicious. "What is this?"

"We always have to know where we come from."

"I don't understand what that means." He said this with a half smile, which I'm starting to notice is his unique way of showing confusion mixed with amusement. Under the circumstances, that's a very healthy response.

"Read through them, and then you'll begin to understand. But keep them secret. Tell no one about their existence or what is in them."

"Except for you, of course. At our next meeting."

Was he teasing me? This boy should know better than that...which of course he did. "Quite so. I'll require a thirty-page report."

"Thirty pages? How am I supposed to concentrate on that when I have more important matters to occupy my thoughts?"

I didn't need to ask what he meant. His initiation is set to take place during the time when Najahal is bright and full. Not long now...but in the meantime, there are still other chances for more meetings. Which I'm looking forward to...although not in the midst of hanging cloaks.

 

I thought it was a really cool place to have a conversation, in a closet. Plus giving him information about his family while they were in said closet hinted at secrets upon secrets. Great job. Love the imagery and the way this is going.

Looking forward to more.