"See, Sister Vapooliar? Look at how beautiful it all is." Sister Pymonsia tells me, pointing out an extensive grid of flowering vines and the arches they're built around. I follow after her, trailing in the gentle breeze as we go out of our way to have as little impact as possible. Despite all of her power, Eurultus-Valkinvar Pymonsia is a master of it to an incomprehensible degree.
The flowers she goes by, despite saturating in Moonrim Emerald light, never flutter more than they did before. But, me with my Whisper Beryl light sees them rock like a baby in their gentle sleep. Though neither of us are drawing petals like our swords might spill blood. There is a certain tranquillity that really makes it clear what it means to be someone like Sister Pymonsia.
One of the Four Points of the Compass.
Last I was aware, as the most recently inducted Valkinvar, I am the weakest of us all. And here only shows how complicated such a topic really is. Power is not simply the strength of one's body or their mind. The spells at their fingertips or the destruction their blows deal to the earth. It's how little impact they can also have on All-That-Remains.
A kind of respect for what little remains of Creation that truly defines what it means to be a master of magic. And nowhere is it more clear than in blooming fields of flowers like this. In the dense overgrowth of greenery and redstone, construction of Thurnmourer-Thunlanann. Even the buzzards don't have a thing to worry about in the presence of Sister Pymonsia.
A soul as truly gentle as her smile and loving warmth make her out to be. Though I could only wish this warmth extended more to her mind. I have questions and I know full well she has the answers. There's no dishonesty to find within her, but I am easily finding myself before a wall of apprehension. This journey through the city is but an extension of that. While the city is beautiful in so many ways, it's all a distraction.
"Sister Pymonsia..." I start to say, only to go quiet as she wanders off, her focus going straight into a bouquet. Her tongue whipping away in tune with the lady running her shop. I linger in the air, minding the privacy of it as my mouth shifts about. I'm keeping my helmet off as a sign of respect for the casual nature of what she is looking for right now.
However... I would certainly like to put my head back within its steel confines. I can be certain my expressions are hidden, then. Nothing for her to cling to insecurely.
I turn away to get my thoughts in order, settling them aside as unwanted patience comes by. I will indulge her just a little while longer, corner her or something. Anything to get what I came here for. Clues and information about the war, the war the Valkinvar are currently forbidden to fight in despite our very existence being at threat because of it.
My magic guides me down to Sister Pymonsia's side as she rises up again. She's giggling away, holding onto a bouquet of flowers and she passes them onto me. Her smile grows and my face falls apart, unable to handle to randomness of her actions. I blink and blink, unable to quite figure it out.
"Do you like them?" she asks, her smile bright and shiny. A full row of pearly teeth in view.
"They're... Uh..." I say, unable to recall the name of the flowers making up the bouquet. They're pink and purple, freckled with spots of yellow nectar and splotches of black. Stalks of planty greens and leaves much the same. But no name comes to mind.
"Teehee!" she lets out, so childlike in her demeanour, despite her centuries of age. I try to emulate her smile, but only come so far as a little smirk. We carry on flying and her plans come to fruition, shattering the bouquet across the wind. I slow to a halt, blinking yet again with a feeble mind at work.
I twist around, watching the petals fly off on the wind, decorating the typical emerald shimmer with pale, pretty pinks. My eyes continue to follow them, watching them as Sister Pymonsia makes a habit of taking their course out of nature's hands. Her magic sends the petals out of view, directing them across the city. My eyes close and my senses go along her magic, taking my focus as far as houses of healing and the beds of wounded people.
My eyes break open and I twist back towards her, all too sharp in my behaviour. Her smile is gone and her posture turns modest, her delicate hands crossing over each other near her womb. I look down, then back up to her eyes as they twinkle with arcane might. They go down and downer, sadness being the least of which is weighing them down.
"These aren't from the siege, are they?" I ask and she shakes her head, an unfortunate smile fighting its way through her misery and dark thoughts.
"No, no, they are not. Though they are what the city sustains naturally. People work hard, lose focus and get hurt. Even we Valkinvar, are responsible for some of it with how careless we are." she explains, and I frown deeply.
"How careless we are?" I ask, not quite getting her point.
"We are so assured of our ability to fly, to cast magic. That we forget the rest of the city is not like that. Not on our scale, anyway. Flight only looks so easy because we do it and many have deluded themselves into believing they can copy us," she explains and an 'o' hardens my lips into a round shape.
"But that would be their own fault... No?" I ask, a brow rising into an arch, much like the ones we've passed through earlier.
"No. No, it is ours. We influence the people so much. We inspire them to be so much more and we make them feel safe even in the darkest of times. Like the siege that is likely to come back." she says and I go quiet, stewing on those final words as an unspoken fury tightens my grip. I am here to ask questions in regards to that very siege not being repeated and here we are...!
"How are we supposed to inspire them when we're being hounded into the walls of the city...?" I mutter under my breath, my voice brimming with malice as my temper sets aside my patience. Though, it doesn't quite go so far as to murder it.
"What was that, sorry?" Sister Pymonsia questions, her face twitching with lies.
"Nothing, just a loose thought." I lie in turn as I float away to watch the traffic of a nearby street. Sister Pymonsia returns to my side and we watch a pair of off-duty Valkinvar fly into this half of the city. Their arms filled with what appear to be blankets and bedding.
"I have a feeling I know what that is about. Come, Sister Vapooliar." Sister Pymonsia urges, taking my hand for but a second to guide me back into the air. I follow after her, diving down into the city as we approach an opening in the streets. Though, we do not land in such public view. We sequester ourselves to a tight alleyway, one barely wide enough to fit my armour without scraping it.
We scurry along, finding ourselves before a small opening into an old building. One damaged by crime or neglect, it is hard to say. However, the life teeming inside of it certainly makes it an odd sight to behold. Decrepit ruins filled with the laughter of children and Valkinvar of all things.
"This is but one part of what I speak of, Sister Vapooliar." Sister Pymonsia explains, her earlier words coming back to mind. I lean away as best as I can, given the tight fitting circumstances.
"These people are not of Thurn's Forge, are they?" I ask, and Sister Pymonsia nods away, her eyes slim in their display. Her face is hardly seeable, too, though the shake to her breath says it all.
"They're not even of the lands up to the Seventh Line. They're from the Bordeaon-Valkinvar's domain." she answers and I note the paleness to their skin. Not quite the clear crystalline shades one might expect of the continent of Mogolawal, but the influence is certainly there. They're of Jherikra, clearly, though the magic of other lands finds its way here as much as the winds of ours blow through theirs.
"We've lost a lot." I say, knowing how stupid it is to acknowledge. We all know that.
"We have... We have. You must understand, Sister Vapooliar... No, I won't bother you with the details." she sighs and I turn, a slight glare to my features as those are the very kind of details I *want* to be bothered with. They're the whole reason I made the trek and partial flight across the Great Bridge. Why I hunted down and have been gallivanting about with her up and to this point!
"So these people in the temple, they're against actions like this?" I question her with, watching as sisters of unknown name and Ordoar go about the children and others. Sharing their magic, offering their time and energy to ensure the comfort of those in the city. Though our armour carries much weight in meaning, that meaning is war. What is desirable to dream about in boyhood and the like can also be terrifying in war.
Especially when anyone and everyone can see that we're losing it...
"They are. Certain voices want them to put their magic to its proper use. Honing edges and protecting them from much the same." she says, revealing a certainty I was already sure of. She slips out of the building, vanishing around the corner. I chase after her, bashing my armour back and forth as my lack of equal grace traps me.
I pop out into the open, my instincts flushing out around me to keep me airborne. The ground gently thuds behind me and I spot the lingering trail of the Eurultus-Valkinvar's majestic hair. I come to the corner of the building, watching her go inside without a care and a bright smile on her face. The refugees turn to her. The playing children stop and the off-duty Valkinvar salute as if they were in as much armour as I might be.
I trail in after her, keeping clear of the wave of magic she is letting loose from her arms and lips. Loving warmth embraces me either way, comforting me in spirit where my body does not need to be. Though she is betrothed to War, Motherhood is all that she can exude right now. The loving care of a truly loving mother. The love of the Valkinvar of the Eastern Orange Wind for her people and their lives.
The magic subsides, and quite unexpectedly, the refugees go back to their business. The lack of a breakout of cheers and applauds baffles me, but not to the point of immobility. I rejoin Sister Pymonsia, watching her as she greets the children where my ears tune them out. I glance up, eyeing our sister Valkinvar as they also approach.
One gives a gentle wave and I return the gesture even with a name escaping me.
"I must say, it is an odd sight seeing our highest of superiors with a Valkinvar-Imdvarce." the closest of the off-duty women giggles out and I slightly smile at the concept. Though, I guess that also answers which Ordoar she is from? I suppose I have time for small talk, either way.
"Y-Yes, I was just..." I start to say, uncertain as to how I am going to explain it.
"Sister Vapooliar here is an old friend of mine, before she left the city many grand-cycles ago." Sister Pymonsia answers, her warmth and emphasis on the word 'friend' making my heart flutter. Even with how frustrating it is to get the answers I want out of her. I suppose for now, though, she has a point. There is a lot to Thurn's Forge right now that we need to focus on as well.
All that is left of our empire, our homeland, lies within these walls right now. Those who were able to flee the war up until this point. So many have been left behind and they're all trying their best to absolve themselves of the thoughts regarding it. Whatever we Valkinvar are, Sister Pymonsia is certainly eager to show we are more than just the swords we carry. The spells and rituals we master.
I certainly grasp that, more than anyone... Especially now that I am truly unlike any other Valkinvar alive.