Ensign Lyra Voss: On a cool night, in a cool world
Sarah Terry
((Stonspeaker Tent, Voss Manor grounds, Bellonphain, Betazed))
Stonespeaking was a curious tradition on Betazed - as were most traditions connected to Karawati. The goddess occupied an interesting place in the planet’s history - part mythical progenitor, part religious icon, part noble ancestor. The Cult of Karawati still operated on Betazed - the stonespeakers were proof enough of that - but its numbers paled in comparison to those who worshipped the Four Deities. And yet, the Houses ostensibly existed because of Karawati - all twenty claimed to be her direct descendants. Even this holiday - Fana’ro Vestus - had originally been an equinox festival devoted to Karawati. The Four Deities had been painted over it, but its roots were still plain.
Lyra listened quietly as Ryden’s stone spoke first. The voice of deep places. The woman’s voice seemed to lower and deepen as she spoke, as if she were following the words down, down into that hollow in the world. How fitting that stones should speak of caves.
The woman looked up at her with a delicately raised eyebrow as she finished speaking. Stonespeakers were deft hands at dealing with skepticism, and she seemed entirely unphased by Lyra’s thoughts. If anything, she seemed to take it as a challenge. Taybrim smiled softly next to her.
Sylvax: That was... cryptic.
McLaren: Very.
Taybrim: I believe it is what you take it to be.
Voss: Like any good prophecy.
McLaren: Who is going to go next?
The commodore still had a genial smile on his face.
Taybrim: I am enjoying not making decisions too much tonight. ::his dark eyes sparkled:: So I defer to the group.
Sylvax: I’m not sure the doctor should be responsible for triaging the order of prophetic revelations.
Voss: ::holding up her hands:: I’m your host - politeness dictates I let others go first.
McLaren: After you.
Ah, Lyra could feel Sol’s reluctance to know what the future had in store. Interesting.
Sylvax: Oh no, I’ve already had my moment of mysterious subterranean destiny. I’m happy to observe for a bit.
Which meant there was really only one other person who could step up, no matter how many times he might try to defer from making the decision.
Sylvax: Commodore?
Taybrim: Alright, I will go.
The stonespeaker fixed him with a knowing gaze.
Stonespeaker: Child of the goddess, returned to us. Select a stone.
She cast them once again, lingering as they settled before she drew back her hands.
Stonespeaker: Choose your voice.
Lyra could tell that Taybrim was of a similar opinion when it came to fortune telling, but, like any good Betazoid, he knew how to appreciate a little spectacle. He chose a smoothly polished stone with silky bands of gold and deep brown, and held it out to the stonespeaker with an open hand. She took it and held it tightly for a moment before she spoke.
Stonespeaker: Ah, the voice of the stones underneath running rivers, still and steady as those move around. Brought to sun the voice glitters with warmth, left in the dark it is forgotten. Listen carefully for this voice, it whispers secrets from the darkness that only the keenest seekers can hear.
The whispering, mysterious mysteries! Prophecies loved those.
Taybrim: I see, thank you.
Sylvax: Interesting that both of us ended up with warnings about listening in the dark.
Voss: Maybe time to start carrying some flashlights any time you’re walking around at night. Sounds like you’ll have a lot of listening to do.
Stonespeaker: ::serenely:: Don’t we all, Sixteenth daughter?
Lyra’s smile faltered a bit at the stonespeaker’s words. There was that practiced edge. That reminder that, whether she feigned skepticism or not, she was inexorably linked to the myth of Karawati by virtue of her House. She shut her mouth.
McLaren: ?
Taybrim: I noticed Ryden’s stone was no longer on the table..
Stonespeaker: Each of you choose and then a clearer voice forms from the harmony.
Sylvax: So we’re building a chorus now?
Lyra slowly crossed her arms, remembering the first part of the common mantra…
Voss: Altara e’ver ovathra imahd ii…
The stonespeaker let a soft smile come over her face.
Stonespeaker: Indeed. “Quiet my heart, so that I might hear it.”
Taybrim: Well, if we each need to choose, then it’s someone else’s turn!
Sylvax: I believe that leaves Lyra and Sol...
Lyra wasn’t sure whether Sol wanted to participate in this, given her earlier reluctance, and she didn’t want her to feel put on the spot.
Voss: I guess I can go next…
McLaren: ?
Lyra stepped up as the stonespeaker gathered up her rocks once more and cast them again onto the wooden table. A particularly rounded stone - gleaming black with silver streaks scattered across its surface - began to roll off the table and Lyra reflexively reached out a hand to catch it before it fell on the floor. She could feel the stonespeaker’s eyes widen in excitement without even looking at her.
Stonespeaker: Ah, a voice has chosen you, daughter. Hand it to me, so I may know it.
The performance that Taybrim found so masterful, Lyra was beginning to find oppressive. Stonespeaking was usually all in good fun, but this time… there was a knowingness in this woman that unsettled her. Still, she handed over the black rock as asked. The stonespeaker held it between her palms, gently rolling it back and forth. Finally, she nodded.
Stonespeaker: The traveler’s voice… ::a moment’s pause and then the words tumble out like rain:: The heart that belongs to another world, far-ranging and wild, more sky than water, more rock than sky. Falling and growing into everything, roots woven like hair and a hand around the neck that eats them in their sleep. What bubbles up inside you demands to be free. On a cool night, in a cool world, with the light getting bluer, there will be no choice but to forgive the tears and the song they sing.
The words hung precariously in the air as the stonespeaker closed her eyes and her hand around the black rock simultaneously. Lyra stayed stock still, frozen in the low shimmering light of the tent. Then a shudder ran down her spine and she immediately shook her head and backed away.
Voss: I don’t –
The stonespeaker cut her off.
Stonespeaker: You should let it sit with you, daughter.
Again that unnerving lilt in the woman’s voice, like she was in on a joke the rest of them didn’t understand. Lyra suddenly wanted to be anywhere else but this damn tent.
Voss: Well, Sol, up to you if you want to try. If not, maybe it’s time we get to the bonfires. Let the year to come sort itself out for now.
McLaren: ?
((OOC: I’m going to jump a little here, but feel free to expand if Sol decides she does want to get a reading!))
((Voss Manor grounds, Bellonphain, Betazed))
The group stepped out of the stonespeaker’s tent to a beautiful sunsetting sky, smeared with deep purples under ripples of golden clouds. Lyra turned back to them with a somewhat sheepish expression.
Voss: Well! She was a bit more… colorful… than the stonespeakers I’ve met in the past.
McLaren/Sylvax/Taybrim: ?
Voss: I’d say it’s about time to find our way to a fire. We can grab some snacks on the way?
McLaren/Sylvax/Taybrim: ?
After a quick stop for provisions, Lyra felt like she’d mostly shaken off the experience with the stonespeaker, and was ready to focus on the past year rather than the year to come. They made their way to one of the large bonfires - each was set in a stone pit, with a pile of chopped wood nearby to continue feeding it. Tiny sparks danced up into the sky and mingled with the rising stars. She turned, particularly to Ryden and Sol, to explain a bit more about the ritual.
Voss: So here we are. This is… the memories that you leave behind… it can be as private or as communal as you wish. Obviously with Betazoids… we aren’t a particularly private people, so this is often a shared moment of… of grief or release or… relief… but if you’d like to step away, or find your own fire, please, feel free. There’s nothing… some people speak the memories into their trevella, or just focus on them as they let go… it’s really up to you.
McLaren/Sylvax/Taybrim: ?