E1:
As obscuring cloth is drawn away, light blossoms: pale gold and softly pink like the fingers of dawn itself, the glow encompasses the whole of the stage, accented with beams aligned through the arched windows set into the background scenery.

E2:
Blue-painted skies over basalt crags compose the imagined vista beyond, with flowing silks and scattered sands tossed by a faux gale completing the setting. Thus is the Gaudiguchian morning born, accompanied by the rousing twangs of an unseen sitar.

SCENE - TEMPLE1
Arches pointed at their apex reach from average waist-level to near the ceiling, permitting glimpses through fluttering silks at the crags that ring the desert city of Gaudiguch. The room depicted within is small and sparsely decorated, woven hangings of ecru yarn tracing precise geometries along the painted bricks between the windows. Silk cushions await the errant lounger, unfussily strewn about the floorspace between rows of reed-woven mats.

PROP - SILKS
Set central to the floor, a single mass rises within a shroud of silks layered so as to be opaque. The shape is vague, the light that hits it from the windows not nearly enough to pierce the veil- perhaps a statue of some significance, placed before the mats to allow contemplative reverence.

ROLE - INITIATE
an initiate of meditation

COSTUME - INITIATEGARB
Long and lanky, this dracnari has seen no more than twenty or so of the desert's summers, his green scales all finely polished and yet spared the wear of age. From narrow shoulders hangs a robe of crimson silk richly embroidered with gold brocade, the very same that can be spied upon the initiates of meditation that mill about Gaudiguch.

INITIATE - ENTER SILENT

E3:
A figure enters from stage right. Dripping with gold-trimmed crimson silk, the dracnari appropriately resembles one of many that walk the streets: initiates of Meditation, those who seek the cryptic wisdom of the Masters themselves.

INITIATE peers about, craning his neck as he seems to inspect the elsewise still and silent chamber. His tail thrashes anxiously, foot-claws clacking upon the tiled floor as he takes to pacing.

E4:
"Ah. He arrives at last, and with the morning. Sit, sit."

E5:
The gentle insistence comes not from the richly-garbed dracnari, much to even his own apparent surprise. He halts, bemusedly scenting the air.

ROLE - MASTER
a Master of Meditation

COSTUME - MASTERGARB
Frail and stooped with age, there is little else to be said for this dracnari save that he is very, very old. The cloth that drapes him is sumptuous, but understatedly so- prizable silks are layered in soft tones of cream and saffron, bereft of embellishment yet of untold expense based simply upon the immaculate, almost liquid nature of the weave. Some dust has settled across his dull scales, a testament to his unmoving nature, further masking a colour once perhaps rich azure.

MASTER - ENTER SILENT

SCENE - TEMPLE1
Arches pointed at their apex reach from average waist-level to near the ceiling, permitting glimpses through fluttering silks at the crags that ring the desert city of Gaudiguch. The room depicted within is small and sparsely decorated, woven hangings of ecru yarn tracing precise geometries along the painted bricks between the windows. Silk cushions await the errant lounger, unfussily strewn about the floorspace between rows of reed-woven mats.

(same, with prop discarded)

E6:
There is movement from center stage, a stirring among the silks that believably were only some objet d'art. A clawed hand breaches the tent of fabric, digits wiggling as it beckons the initiate forth.

MASTER (from within his shroud): Fortune smiles. With this dawn I am blessed with epiphany, and so too a new mind that thirsts for Enlightenment. Be seated, O seeker, let my revelations be as your own.

INITIATE (uncertainly) click-clacks nearer, just off to the Master's left side. He sketches a low bow, one from which he does not rise; instead, the movement becomes exaggerated, the dracnari folding onto his knees and touching his snout to the floor.

E7:
A wily chuckle shakes the Master's silks, and soon after he breaks free of them, removing an expansive, ornamented crown and setting it aside with a whispering of cloth and the clink of metal upon stone.

MASTER: Your reverence is heartfelt, but misplaced. I am neither monarch nor deity, only a vehicle of the great Mystery to which we all must one day bend our knee. Please, be seated.

INITIATE does as he is bidden, sheepishly raising his head and settling cross-legged, mimcking the Master's own serene pose somewhat faithfully.
He inhales deeply, perhaps too deeply, eyes bulging as he holds the breath and awaits further instruction.

MASTER quirks a pebbled brow, not chiding but curious in tone as he asks, "Have they sent me so fresh a student? Are you not yet versed in the proper ease of tranquility?"

INITIATE deflates, both figuratively and literally, as he releases the pent-up breath with an audible 'fwoooo'. "I...I don't- that is to say, n-not exactly?" the young dracnari stammers, twiddling his thumbs.

E8:
"Ah," the elder again murmurs, touching a claw to his chin in consideration.

MASTER (offhandedly musing to himself): Consider the crooked lizard that raked the sands...

INITIATE leans forward, drawn taut like a bowstring from snout to tail in eager expectation.

MASTER: ...this lizard shaped a vessel from clay. Rumour has it that the lizard spoke patiently, and thus fostered Enlightenment.

INITIATE nods once, twice with scattered focus. "Let us meditate upon the crooked lizard?" he inquires, wide-eyed and hopeful.

MASTER: But I am the crooked lizard.

MASTER gestures vaguely, an unexpected rumble of laughter shaking his fail frame. The initiate nods again, oblivious.

INITIATE: And where do you keep your clay, Master? Shall we contemplate the clay?

MASTER (crooning) Already have I contemplated, and thus have I seen: you are the clay, my little friend, and here we shall shape you into a vessel to collect what drops of Enlightenment you may glean from our time here.

INITIATE 's widen further, the light behind them kindled to a veritable sparkle. "Yes! Enlightenment is so cool!" he enthuses, tail and toes all wiggling.

MASTER: It is, as you say, so cool. Let us begin with the basics.

MASTER sinks effortlessly again into his tranquil pose, becoming a statuesque depiction of serenity and grace. Softly, he murmurs instruction, "The back is straight. Shoulders dropped, arms lax."

INITIATE furrows his brow, the tip of his blue tongue poked out from between teeth as he does his best to follow: the pose is appropriated well enough, but still the tail behind him plods a rhythm against the silk cushions.

MASTER peeks one eye open, offering with further regard, "Enlightenment is subtle. Epiphany is patient. You must learn to be still, but still as maintained through ease- never force."

MASTER demonstrates again, himself becoming still, but placidly so. With barely a movement of the lips, he orders, "Breathe."

INITIATE adopts the pose religiously once more, drawing in a slow and measured breath. As he exhales, the tension visibly dissolves away, and soon junior and senior are together aligned in a moment of absolute calm.

E9:
Quiet moments pass. Silent moments follow, the instrumentalist behind the scenes evidently having grown bored - or, perhaps, having sustained his playing for dramatic effect.

INITIATE (in a cautious whisper): So do we just...stay...like this?

E10:
"Mmm," the Master offers up response, unmoving.

E11:
Before long, the initiate is clearly restless. He shifts his position, silk rustling with silk, and he never appears still again for quite long enough to assume the same pristine pose.

MASTER creaks an eye open, though it shuts immediately upon meeting the initiate's own furtive glance. "...yes," he explains afterward, heaving a sigh. "We just stay like this, bodies stilled and minds open to the myriad workings of the cosmos."

INITIATE (softly): Huh. How long until we reach an epiphany?

MASTER opens both eyes, gnarled hands rubbing away at them before he responds, "To presume an answer would betray the very nature of the thing, of course. An epiphany is spontaneous, it cannot be held to such mortal comforts as time. It simply is, when it is."

INITIATE: So we just sit still and wait for...something? Anything?

MASTER: It goes deeper than this, of course. You will learn through practice: to be at rest is to let the rest of the world, the cosmos beyond, continue its movements as though you are separate. An observer.

INITIATE plants his chin atop his fist, the elbow preceding wedged against his knee. "And what exactly do we observe?"

MASTER: Why, whatever we like. There are some who meditate upon moving images pleasing to the heart and mind, as the lotus amidst a rippling pond, or the desert emptying off the edge of the world.

INITIATE murmurs to himself, "...lotus...desert..."

MASTER: Still there are others who argue philosophy until the buzzing of their minds becomes a lulling static. What matters not is what enraptures the mind, so long as it brings you to peace. You will discover your own method of stillness, and from such fertile ground will blossom your own epiphany.

INITIATE (picking absently at the glittering brocade of his robe): How can I be sure I'm doing it right?

MASTER laughs lightly, folding his claws in his lap. "Can one ever be sure of anything, seeker? Perhaps this conundrum should be that which you wonder at endlessly, ever in pursuit of Enlightenment."

INITIATE (with a tinge of offense): Ever in pursuit? Are you trying to say I will never get there?

MASTER: Ahh, Enlightenment is a tricky, vexing ideal. Many are those who have claimed to brush against it, but to truly attain it? Impossible.

INITIATE stares blankly.

MASTER: You might be led to wonder why it is we seek it, knowing full well that it will ever elude our grasp.

INITIATE: I might, yes.

MASTER (Lips curling into a reptilian grin) Consider the trill that sought to capture the wind.

INITIATE heaves a groan, but nevertheless closes his eyes shortly after. Though at first his brow furrows, he seems to regard the prior lesson, and his vigil takes on a token of budding inner peace.

MASTER: This trill fashioned a thousand traps of paper.

INITIATE mouths the words after, but elsewise remains still. Tranquil, at rest, even in the midst of his wonderment.

MASTER: ...the traps all were taken by the breeze...

INITIATE exhales, chasing the final remnants of his held-to tension. The silence grows long, but he seems not to mind, even as the Master studies him.

E12:
The lighting shifts, mid-morning sun becoming the scorching desert noon. Sounds filter from backstage, the babbling of passersby and general noise of the city sneaking through windows.

E13:
Still the initiate remains, composed and perfect. Hued like sunset, the light becomes a vibrant red, then gradually fades to the soothing blues of twilight. Soon, it is only the half-lit face of the moon that shines upon the scene.

INITIATE starts suddenly, all but jumping from his seat.

MASTER: Ahh...?

INITIATE: The wind cannot be trapped! It can be felt, its passage can be seen, but it is intangible!

MASTER smiles softly, raising a claw to tap at his temple. "These things we know, but what is the significance of this allegory?" he goads, patient and wise.

INITIATE: Enlightenment is the same! It is always there, hiding around and under, always moving between...

MASTER: And thus...?

INITIATE (rapidly, with bizarre hand movements to suit): Thus we can long for it, search for it, even knowing there is no singular truth to discover! We pose questions as the trill fashioned his traps, and as the breeze stole them away, so too do our questions take flight...

MASTER hunches forward, simply witnessing the initiate in his addled address.

INITIATE: We might find answers long-discarded along the path, as the trill would surely happen upon his grounded traps. But in the end-

E14:
Together, the two dracnari speak their shared wisdom: "In the end, it is the pursuit itself that matters."

INITIATE throws his hands up, exhausted and elated in equal measure. "So I've done it!" he professes, beaming despite his evident fatigue.

MASTER (tapping at his chin) Have you now? Done what, exactly?

INITIATE: I've found my epiphany! I'm Enlightened!

MASTER: Ahh, it is but the first step that will beget many, many more, I sense. You have done well to unravel this curiosity of yours, assuredly, but there is no end to sate those who wonder at Enlightenment.

INITIATE slumps a bit, for the briefest moment appearing defeated. "But," he begins, mimicking the Master's tapping of the chin, "that means I can wonder at something else tomorrow?"

MASTER: For as many tomorrows as you would like, in fact. For now, you might better serve yourself with a good night's rest.

INITIATE rises unsteadily, standing on shaky legs. Managing something of a bow, he mumbles his way through praise and thank-yous, making a wobbly egress from the ever-poised Master and disappearing from the stage.

INITIATE - EXIT SILENT

MASTER inhales audibly, releasing the breath as a satisfied sigh.

MASTER: So the vessel is filled, only to empty itself again.

MASTER: Let us contemplate the emptied vessel.

E15:
The moonlight dims, only the barest glow limning the silhouette of the wise dracnari as he dons his silken crown once more. Somewhere in the span between one second and the next, he is simply gone, the suggestion of form once in the near-dark now only a vacant space.

END