Astvanor Session 162 (3/28)

[cinaed]

Session 162: Day 22 of Saedan (3/28)

It is unfortunately as bright and warm and sunny as it was minutes ago. The smell of heated metal and burnt sand and flesh begins to slowly drift away from the island like a storm cloud dissipating.

As the time crawls onward and onward, the remains of everyone who died during the fight are taken and laid out on the beach. They’re covered with handwoven blankets that Hava has seen before. It has been customary on her island since she was little and far beyond that to drape the departed in the same soft, beautiful, handwoven blankets that populate her island’s homes and beaches.

It always looks not mundane but familiar in a comfortable and disquieting way.

Hava is brought inside her home with her mother and her sister and her friends. The water within the tabletop is still, slightly murky, in the central entrance point of the house. It’s not the crystal clear of the driftwood and shells, smudged by some soft darkness clouding the water.

Fala doesn’t go to it. She keeps an arm around Hava and another around Luna. Once they are inside, she releases them both and says that the process for funeral rites is not necessarily a quick procedure but it has always been intended to be completed within a few hours of the person’s passing.

She asks Hava to follow her. She turns towards the hallway that houses her private chambers where they were there earlier when Fala announced her as her heir. It is surreal to be coming back here, just a few short hours later, under such different circumstances.

Fala sits beside her desk, her legs folded underneath herself. The same tools that Hava had been working with to assist her for the sacrament of the hunt are still laid out: the dagger and the lit incense, the pieces of metal and shells, all of her divination materials. They are all laid in the same careful, clean piles they have been since Hava was young.

There is a space there for Hava.

Fala takes a deep breath and picks up one of the shells and then puts it back down. Her hands are shaking just slightly. Hava’s mother has always had a steady touch no matter what, and there are a dozen and a half reasons her hands are shaking now. One is that just moments ago her husband died.

There is a quickness and sometimes a hesitance to Fala’s gestures as she picks up each other and then sets them down again. This is an uncertainty that Hava has never seen in her mother before, before she finally settles on a silver plate, very small, very unadorned, just simple pounded metal.

Fala instructs Hava to fill it with water from the basin on her right.

It’s a small basin. Hava dips the plate into the water, her own bloodshot expression staring back up at her. Her reflection seems to almost solidify until it’s no longer wobbling or twisting with the water. She realizes this mirror isn’t part of a ceremonial item. This is a divination item.

When Hava looks into it, her reflection for a moment darkens and the reflected version of her ages and ages and ages until she’s three hundred, perhaps four hundred years old. Her hair is pink from root to tip, full and luscious. She has a little scar right on her cheekbone, lending a rakish air to her.

The older version looks to her side and at once Hava feels a deep, terrible sense of loss. There is a rending within her soul, like something physically has been split out of her. She feels it as if it’s a phantom pain of an old wound, like a broken bone on the edge of winter that reminds her of the ache.

It presses like a scar, deeper and deeper, until she feels a great and gasping sense of relief and a flood that tastes like salt water. She feels the pain of a version of herself that is not promised. This future is not necessarily going to come to pass, but a version that this tool of divination feels is probable if not likely in this current moment. It seems to be running all the options and likelihoods and has chosen this one for whatever reason. It is one where she feels this great, profound separation of a deep, desperate part of herself.

It feels like the ghost of having lost Maeve, but magnified. It’s hard to determine what this future version lost, but it is something. This ghost sense washes over her and it’s difficult to focus on the older version but when Hava does, she sees the version raise her hand and sees that she’s no longer wearing the bracelet she’s worn since she left the island, the bracelet her mother gave her.

After a few moments of this, the vision passes and her mother hands her two pieces of fishbone and then pauses before handing her a third. She tells her to wash them in the basin and explains that the basin is sea water collected during the eclipse, kept as unpolluted as possible. Different waters collected at different times can enhance certain magic properties.

Fala asks if she knows why this is eclipse water. Hava says no, and Fala explains that it is when the moon and the sun overlap each other, a metaphorical connection between Relatya and Tsaliora. Then Fala asks what she saw.

Hava says she saw herself, older. There was loss, but she couldn’t see what.

Fala says it was her first time. She’ll have to get better at reading omens and portents. When Hava asks how, Fala says she must practice and keep practicing. It’s something she should do daily, every morning.

Fala hands her sand to scrub over several things, shells that need to be cleansed with incense and bathed in the waters, passing along all of these things with soft, trembling hands. The last thing she asks for is the bracelet once Hava has before her a woven bag that has been scrubbed in sand and filled with herbs and palm fronds, sea shells that have been washed in this water, there is ash from burned flowers and foliage, bones of fish that have been touched by this water.

Her mother, who has looked at her as little as possible, then asks for the bracelet.

Hava gives it to her.

Fala turns it over in her hands before she collects the plate of water, drawing them both to herself. She hands the plate back over and then takes the bracelet, kissing it before she hands it back to Hava. There is some intention or prayer to the gesture before she tells Hava to put the bracelet in the basin.

When Hava places it in the basin, Fala reaches over and lays her hand over the water, her fingers just barely skimming it. It doesn’t seem like anything happens. Then Fala wets her fingers in the water and turns her hand palm up in invitation.

Hava takes her hand, Fala taking both of their hands and lays it down in the water of the basin, with slow and deliberate intent. When she pulls her hand back, she tells Hava to take the bracelet.

The bracelet has been corded leather, twisted and braided, made from things from creatures hunted by family members long in the past. Her mother gave to her, something inherited just like the abilities and past and future, passed generation through generation down to her.

When she picks up the bracelet now, all of the strands are the same except for one. Running through the bracelet are two colors of almost taught string or thread, one a deep dark gingery red twisting around a soft pastel pink. It could be fiber or thread but she realizes it’s hair. There are long strands of hair twisted together to replace a thread in the bracelet.

Fala leans back and says that should provide her some assistance moving forward. Hava asks what she means, and Fala says it will provide her some assistance with the divinations. She needs to meditate on it. In the meantime, the families of the departed will have brought something to be laid to rest with their loved ones.

When the ceremony starts, Hava will sprinkle the ashes over each of the bodies, place shells on the blankets, and last the herbal pouches, all of which will protect the souls and represent memories and the passing of their souls. The items from their loved ones will help them hold onto their memories.

Fala stops and then in a different voice, one not sounding like she’s teaching Hava anymore, says they need to find something for Hava’s father.

Hava says she can do that, she thinks.

Fala says he would want it to be her. They were close.

Hava says she’ll find something.

Fala says she will finish setting up the site, but Hava should find something and bring it. She says Hava’s name and then pauses for a long time before thanking her for doing this with her.

Hava, a sob in her throat, says she’s sorry they have to do this at all.

Fala says so is she. She tells her that her father loves her very much. Hava says she knows, and Fala says she still has to say it before she stiffens her shoulders and looks at Hava as though she expects Hava to do the same before Hava leaves.

In the other part of the home, Yolov watches Luna twist her hair between her fingers and poke the murky water in the table. Yolov approaches her and she immediately straightens up and asks if he needs anything.

Yolov carefully says he doesn’t need anything, he actually wanted to see if she needed anything. Luna says she will be told when she’s needed, and Yolov asks if she wants a distraction or if she would like to hear something Hava told him once when he was at risk of losing someone very dear to him.

She says she would like that, and Yolov repeats what Hava said to him on the mountain when they were trying to get to the Shadowfell to save Dailiir: “If you don’t want to keep holding it together, you don’t have to.”

Luna’s lower lip trembles. She’s young for an elf and all of her teenage emotions flood her as she slumps against Yolov, burying her face in his robes and beginning to cry. He awkwardly holds her for as long as she needs.

Outside, Diana and Galowen are helping with the dead. They have all been wrapped in these blankets, almost like burial shrouds. Diana and Galowen are the first to see people bringing forward items, mostly palm-sized at the largest, one item at first glance being a very small dagger, another being a broken-off piece of a fishing pole.

These people kneel before the bodies and press the little items in the shrouds. One of the people going up to the bodies is Coa-nai, Junius’ partner, who tucks an item into a shroud and gives it a little pat.

Soon the only one who hasn’t received a little item yet is Velik.

Galowen and Diana also see that the dead’s weapons have been brought to their sides, their fellow soldiers waiting for the families to tuck the items into the shrouds before giving the bodies their weapons as well.

Velik’s sword is being held by Junius, who is watching the house and clearly waiting for them to bring the small item out so that he can place the sword with Velik.

Soon healers move among the bodies, caring for them in further ritualized ways.

Az stays away from the bodies, seeking out instead the people who are setting up food for the mourners. There are fruits and dried fish and other seafood, primarily seafood and fruit though with a few grains like rice as well. He helps lay out the food, noticing that primarily these people are the ones who were protected in the village, the people who aren’t fighters and stayed away from the fighting.

A few of them look quickly at Az and then away as they work together. It’s so hard to tell why they’re staring at him, but no one is stopping him or telling him not to help. At one point he is handed something and guided to where he should take it. It only takes fifteen minutes of him calmly helping and organizing things before people stop looking at him with that look. It instead fades into a quiet acceptance of his position.

Hava, meanwhile, thinks of her father’s bow and goes in search of his archery supplies. She finds his armory outside the house inside a small shack. There is the familiar smell of sawdust and sword oil. It smells warm and familiar, striking her in the gut. It smells like the way her father’s clothes always did when he came home after training.

Behind the racks of weapons and armor that could be borrowed, the swords and shields, there is an open doorway. It’s always been an open doorway into a much smaller little room in the back of the shack. Her father never believed in separating anything from the men and women and everyone who wished to protect and hunt for the island. He trusted that they would hold him in the same respect that he held them, and showed it in having his own personal armory in a space that was unbarred from access whenever someone wanted something.

There’s a small plaque with his name as well as Junius’ to show his particular items. There are a number of items of his on the wall. He never used shields, he hated them, but he always had one in case of training. There’s a polearm and different bows, a few of the latter clearly fancy gifts and unusable. There’s a hip quiver and a back quiver, both very beautiful and filled with arrows, all likely hand-made by her father.

Hava picks out a bouquet of arrows, a diverse array of different arrow shapes and fletching. They’re beautiful in their simplicity, the way her father always made them. He never liked ornate things, preferring perfection in simplicity.

She returns to the beach.

By the time she gets there, her mother has just arrived, setting out on a small table all the things she and Hava worked together on. In the distance there is a small raft that is being brought around by two people on it and a person guiding it with a rope.

The raft is being beached on their rocky shore. The two people hop off and help the third anchor it.

Hava has seen this before. It is tradition for how the dead are handled and laid to rest.

The other bodies flanking Velik’s are covered in their ceremonial gifts. The only one yet to be given one is her father. Hava kneels and lays the arrows folded into the burial shroud.

Once she does, a warm, callused hand squeezes her shoulder as Junius lays down the sword next. He says that she really– He pauses and stutters over his words. Then he cups her cheek and says that she is deeply loved. He loves her. Everyone here loves her. Her father loves her.

Hava says she knows, sobs threatening as Junius pulls her into a tight hug.

When it is time for the healers to bring the flowers, it is Luna who does so. She lays the flowers and then wraps her arm around Hava’s waist and pulls her flush against her. Her stringy, teenage arms are trembling, and the three of them stand there before Junius thumbs a tear from Hava’s cheek and then leads Luna a few steps back so that the rest of the proceeding can start.

The bodies are bound carefully.

Fala stands behind the reagents. Hava doesn’t feel confident, though she wants to assist. Her mother watches her like a hawk and gestures Hava forward. Hava has seen her mother do this time and time and time again. Fala says low under her breath what Hava should say and they say it together, guiding her through it with clear, precise steps.

Every time she’s watched her mother do this, it has felt like there was some beautiful weight lifted off Hava’s shoulders, a centering and a grounding. She has seen the way it reflects on the people around her and has brought Hava peace. It is a tight knit community, and so Hava has always known the people who’ve died.

When Hava finishes laying each pouch of fragrant herbs and flowers, she sees that relief in Luna, in Junius, in Coa-nai. But she doesn’t feel that same rush of magic or grand warmth of faith she felt watching it. It just feels like stuff she did.

Fala’s hand comes and rests on Hava’s shoulder, her arm resting around her shoulders.

Diana and Galowen are gently nudged aside so that people can carry the bodies up onto the raft.

Fala squeezes Hava’s shoulder before she says the last farewells: “May your bodies become one with the sea that has given us life, and may your souls join the warm embrace of our ladies of the water, of our moon, of our sun. May you join with them in eternal rest.”

The two individuals push the raft loaded with bodies away from the shore.It goes some distance before the two people slip into the water and break the bottom of the raft so that eventually the drifting raft will come apart and the bodies sink to the bottom of the sea.

The formal portion of the funeral ends. People begin to walk towards the food where Az has been deputized with helping get things set up. He has been given some sort of Elvish name that he doesn’t understand.

Fala’s mother’s hand tightens on her shoulder and she says for Hava to wait just a few more moments. She does, waiting for minutes until the beach is essentially empty of everyone but herself and her mother. Hava had assumed this was ceremonial, since her mother was always the last on the beach, and now she feels a coolness unfurling in her gut, like the lapping of cold water under the blazing sun of summer.

It is an almost peaceful comfort, finally unwinding and relaxing. There is a sense of gratitude that is lightly foreign. She realizes why her mother always stays here after the funerals. The proceedings and ceremony and this community aspect isn’t for Hava or her mother, but rather the community.

This moment, however, is for Hava and Fala. She feels the embrace of her goddesses, nudging her in recognition of what was received.

Fala releases her shoulder and tells her to go eat. She’ll make sure everything here is cleaned up. When Hava asks if she needs help, Fala says Junius is going to try to give Luna liquor. Hava says she’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.

She and Junius make sure that Luna drinks a very watered down glass. Their mother joins them eventually, prodding at a plate brought to her and leaving it mostly uneaten. The sun slips down below the horizon, slowly and then all at once, gone in a blink.

Yolov approaches Hava, quietly telling her that they can stay for a few days if she needs it. Hava says she’d like to stay at least the night, and he tells her they can stay a day or two, they have time before they have to be in Kelfemma. They go whenever she needs.

The head of the people handling the food, Lar’el, has assigned Az as useful and gets him to help with the clean-up. Afterwards Az goes to find Hava as they all begin to settle down for the night.

He asks if she’s okay and she says she isn’t, but there’s nothing she can do about it. He hugs her and she hugs him back. She says she’s really glad that they were here. Az says he guesses he’s glad he was too. He wonders how those things got here.

Hava says she doesn’t know. She says she’s stupid. Elathias seems to know where they are at all times. She’s stupid for thinking she could come here and nothing would happen.

Az says it’s not her fault.

She says she knows. None of this went the way she thought it would go. She’s very upset about a lot of things, but she doesn’t have a lot of options except to just keep going.

Az asks what she wants to do with the rest of tonight.

Hava says she wants to spend tonight with her family and then tomorrow they’ll get up and say goodbye and then they’ll go. She’s just very grateful.

Az asks if she’s grateful for the party, and she clarifies for the party but also she’s grateful for Az himself. He says he didn’t do anything, he certainly didn’t help.

Hava tells him that he helps all the time. She doesn’t have any brothers. She lost her sister when she was young, and Luna was born when Hava was roughly sixteen years old. She doesn’t think she realized how lonely it was here until she met all of the Hooligans. Now she’s never lonely.

Being here is nice because it’s home and she loves it here. But it just reminds her of all the days she spent here, alone and waiting for that loneliness to end. So she’s grateful for all of them but she’s also grateful for each of them. Az doesn’t have to be a healer or a fighter or anything like that. He just chooses to be here and that means a lot.

Az struggles for words, blinking back tears and looking misty eyed. He pulls out a bottle of wine he sweet talked out of Lar’el and gestures with it to Hava. He says this was more than he expected. He just meant for them both to get drunk on a beach.

Hava quickly says she can do that too.

Az says he’s done that with his siblings before.

Hava goes to collect the other Hooligans to get drunk with them on the beach.

At some point during the night, a tipsy Az looks at Hava and tells her she should get an etching done of her father to help remember his face.

Galowen tells him that’s one way to kill the mood and Az says he just started to remember his mother’s face and even now it’s mostly the portrait and not his own memories. Galowen says he doesn’t remember his father either.

By the morning, they all awaken on the beach, most of them hungover and Hava nowhere to be found.

Hava woke before everyone and went to get changed.

Inside her home, inside her mostly bare childhood bedroom, she finds her father’s bow laying on her bed. There is a folded note from her mother, unsigned but she recognizes the handwriting. It simply says that it is better used in her hands than it would be here.