Laquendi’s Pennance and Introspection

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 7 AM – The Godcarvers]

> “I do,” Erin quietly affirmed. “Any time. I may have sworn a Vow of
> Celibacy NOW, but without going into details until or unless needed,
> let us just say I remember how all them pieces are supposed ta fit
> together. The Moon Dancer Alaelia can give ye far better guidance on
> medical issues and I daresay she’s a much broader and more recent set
> o’ experiences to guide emotional and interpersonal advice, but there
> are lots of reasons you might a second opinion from let’s say a more
> dispassionate viewpoint. Galdis Laurelin’s another possibility - the
> point is, we are ALL here to help, you do not have to face everythin’
> alone.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Laquendi agreed as she unlimbered her
satchel. “But for just now, I wanted you to have these.” Opening the
satchel, she extracted a rather alarmingly thick stack of paper.

For a heartbeat, Sister Erin stared blankly at the stack. Then,
realization began to dawn. “Saints preserve us,” she whispered. “Ye
didn’t…” Accepting the offered stack, the clerk began shuffling through
the papers, noting each one was covered completely in the repeating
line, "I shall not be fatalistic and disrespectful of the sanctity of my
own or another’s life."

“Ye did,” she exclaimed a bit more loudly.

“I did,” Laquendi agreed. “I am reasonably confident that the count is
correct, though I will freely admit that the quality begins to fade. For
that, I apologize, and should the quality fall below the required
standard, I stand ready to accept whatever penalty you impose for
failing the assignment.”

“Sure an’ I need t’ be more careful with illustrative examples from me
own checkered past,” the priestess muttered, then Erin simply shook her
head. “Ye weren’t assigned this task at ALL. However did ye manage to
fit it in? As I am mortally certain ye did NOT skimp on the required
rest that you and I both have as a prerequisite fer our morning spell
preparation.”

Laquendi simply shrugged. “As one of the elvenkind, I require slightly
less sleep than humans.” Glancing off in the direction of the Show
Wagon, she added, “And unlike some in my Command, I use the time
allotted for sleep for actual sleep.”

This earned Laquendi a rueful grin from the priestess. “Aye, true
enough,” Erin conceded. “But how are ye doing yourself?”

The silver haired elf pondered the question for a moment, wondering at
what level the priestess most wanted to hear. “It was indeed,” Laquendi
answered after another moment of reflection, “a time to think, and the
ordeal did indeed concentrate the mind most keenly.”

Erin nodded, reinforcing Laquendi’s suspicion that the priestess had
been speaking from first hand knowledge. The Belmakian’s raised eyebrow
suggested that while Erin did not disagree with what she’d heard, the
Erish woman found the answer a bit incomplete.

“And it did cramp the hand most terribly,” Laquendi confessed. “Which is
the cause of the degradation of the quality.”

Erin nodded in sympathy, once again suggesting that the Erish lass
understood at more than just an intellectual level what Laquendi was
saying. “And now?”

For a moment, Laquendi felt the urge to simply dismiss the notion. Not
out of mere bravado, but more out of a desire not to bother the
priestess with something that was inconsequential. But this did not seem
to be the time to stray in even the slightest way from the truth. “It
still aches, some,” the elf admitted, finally allowing herself to once
again rub the hand and wrist. “As I believe it is supposed to.”

“Beg pardon?” Erin asked.

Now it was Laquendi’s turn to raise one eyebrow. “Is not part of the
purpose to leave a lingering impression of the correction to help
reaffirm in a penitent's mind the connection between their transgression
and the consequence, the duration serving to reinforce that connection?”

“Ye mean,” Erin asked, “when ye boil it down t’ *simpler* terms, there’s
an advantage t’ be had for a girl to have to walk around with a sore bum
for a while, reminding her of her lesson every time she sits down?”

The elf considered the question for a heartbeat, and then nodded. “In a
word, yes.”

Erin chuckled grimly. “Well, that’s ONE way to go about it,” she agreed.
“And in extreme cases, maybe even the RIGHT way. But that’s only rarely
the case, and is most certainly NOT true now. Let me demonstrate.”

The priestess reached for the Silver Bolt around her neck, and Laquendi
began to object, suspecting that a healing spell was imminent.

Sister Erin, however, wasn’t having it, and she pretended to scowl at
the elf, the light in her eyes belying her poorly feigned growl. “None
of THAT, lass,” the priestess commanded. “Or I really WILL get out me
ruler.”

After a quick chant and a touch of the Silver Bolt, the minor healing
spell ended in a red flash, and Laquendi’s hand felt better.

“While there IS something t’ what ye say,” Erin said gently, “there is
also a lot t’ be said fer the concept of Forgiveness. Or, if ye like, ye
TOOK yer punishment, so now all is forgiven, and ye’ve once again got a
clean slate. Or as me Da used t’ say at times like this, ‘don’t do it
again, and there’ll be no more said about it’. Words me and me sibs came
t’ live by.”

The silver haired elf found herself staring at the young priestess.
Laquendi was supposed to be aloof and stoical. Displaying emotion, in
her past, was not just a weakness, but a source of deadly danger that
could and almost certainly WOULD be fatal. So it bothered Laquendi more
than just a bit that she felt like crying onto the priestess’ shoulder.
All the more as the elf firmly suspected that Erin would not have minded
in the least.

And indeed, the priestess was looking compassionately back at the
penitent… or as the elf was supposed to be, penitent no more. If
Laquendi could bring herself to ‘not do it again’. Something she could
NOT promise… but somehow she suspected that this young Belmakian would
be there to help Laquendi get back up again, should she stumble again.

When Erin saw the display of emotions flashing over Laquendi’s face
finally settle down, the priestess gently asked, “Now, are ye up fer
doing ME a favour?”

“Absolutely and wholeheartedly,” Laquendi agreed.

“Good.” Erin nodded down to where some just polished sections of plate
armor were arrayed in the morning sunshine. “Can ye give me a hand
gettin’ inta this harness? I don’t like ta bother His Grace with this
job; he always seems a bit uptight about it. Me roomie, Coelia, and I
used ta help each other out with this task, but out here, there’s a
decided lack of ladies I feel comfortable ta ask.”

Laquendi nodded, but then had to catch herself. “I do not have direct
knowledge of how heavy armor is supposed to be worn,” the elf cautioned
the priestess.

“No matter,” Erin replied easily. “That’s me OWN job. Yes, it’d be
quicker if we BOTH knew how all these pieces fit, but I can talk ye
through it, and all ye have ta do is hold things in places the Abbot
would rather not touch, and fasten buckles as I call them out ta ye.”

“That, I can most certainly do,” Laquendi agreed, and made good on her
promise. And soon afterwards, it was time for the Heroes’ Feast
Breakfast, and the minor delay until Scout Lomi returned with Beekin,
the kobold envoy Laquendi was to transport later that day.

Laquendi had watched the teleport crew bampfh off to their target with a
small hint of a new emotion: Jealousy. She was effectively 'grounded'
and unable to use any dimensional magics until at least the afternoon.
At least the morning was not a waste - in addition to her meetup with
Sister Erin, the elf had offered sincere apologies to Tramma for her
ill-timed verbal throw-down with Jeyshann killing the mood of an
otherwise delightful evening, with reassurances from Tramma that their
friendship was intact and a few tears from Laquendi.

She deliberately avoided Jeyshann, at least for the time being. “Nothing
good is going to come from *that* just yet” she reasoned.

After all of the morning’s activities had drawn to a close, the Drow
possessed something she’d been lacking of late - no tasks needing to be
completed post-haste. She found herself a place to sit and lean against
a tree with her pack beside her, idly plucking her long-neglected lyre
and listening to its dulcet sound while her mind wandered afield.

Much like her dancing, the silver-haired Elf’s playing wasn’t anywhere
near good enough to make even a meager living, but that was never the
point. She played because she *wanted* to, not for anyone else’s care or
coin.

Abbot Kenobi’s question of “How can we help you see that you DO have
value, Laquendi?” came into her thoughts. She rolled the question into a
new question for herself: What do YOU value?

Well, there was a question. Some people… she was beholden to Khudzar
Janrock for having the wherewithal to grab her from the astral -
mistaken as she was for the sorceress Rae in that brief moment - and
landed her in Mikos. Vowsister Kenin, not only for not running her
through on sight as many others would be wont to do, but also for giving
her the space to be useful without demanding anything. The quad, of
course. Alielia, Galdis Lauerlin, and Imam Kenobi for their healing of
her mind, body, and hopefully her soul.

“Stop,” she audibly remarked. “All true, but for the wrong reason. Set
aside the quid-pro-quo meanings. Start again.”

“Fine,” the Drow thought. “The Quad.”

“Why?” she argued in her mind - with herself, rather than against A’ni
or Kyorli.

“They will protect me - and protect people *from* me.”

“Still quid pro quo!”

“They will do this for anyone else as well.”

“Better,” she verbalized. “Now… why will they do this?”

And on that Laquendi considered deeply as her fingers idly played a
long-practiced tune.