Lisaera: Mortal Testimony and War of the Circles

You tilt your head to listen to the testimonies that echo within a massive conch
shell of scintillating energies. Slowly, a voice rises above the rest, and the 
words become clear against your ear...

"What are your thoughts, My wolf?" a gossamer voice sings on a cool wind.

You blink.

You think to yourself: ** with uncertainty ** 

"To you, Zyaifa." The gentle wind runs along the viridian veins of your mothy
wings, carrying with it the rising, green scents of spring rain. "You who listen 
to the shell and hear the words that We hear."

You incline your head politely to those around you.

You think to yourself: I have spoken, perhaps too often, my Lady. For when I
listened, I find compassion for the Divine Li-Varili strange. The Seat was a 
torment yes, but did not Others suffer, alone in the Void? They speak as if what 
She endured was incomparably unique. And certainly, I could not understand Her or 
any Other Divine's depth of experience. Yet they turn around and say Other 
Elders are no worse in Their pursuits and plotting.

A massive conch shell of scintillating energies shimmers with the power of
immanidivinus, and the halo about it takes up Kalaneya's words, storing them 
within. Her speech echoes inside the shell, growing softer and softer, subsumed 
into a sound of waves.

A squirrel skitters through the treetops somewhere above.

You think to yourself: Their testimonies may say more of themselves than of any
defense for the actions of the Lady of the Lagoons... But it also confuses me, 
somewhat. That there are mortals willing to offer judgement and sentence for 
Divine so far beyond us.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "It is interesting, though, isn't it?
The same event being seen from so many perspectives."

The breeze is little more than a sigh, one which carries the ancient weight of
so many emotions knowable and out of grasp. It falls still when Kalaneya Shee-
Slaugh speaks, as though it, too, holds its breath to listen to her words, and 
then your Goddess whispers more softly still to you. "She hurt kaelye under 
Maylea's aegis, and I feel empathy for My friend for I cannot imagine... Yet I, 
Mine own self, remember Li-varili as an ally, and then an enemy, and then an 
Awakener alongside many of My Siblings and friends."

The Grey Waykeeper, Saran Strongleaf, Ays Civalior Lyreth says, "Aye,
perspectives shift and change. Yet we do not beg forgiveness for the Soulless 
who cause such destruction."

The words turn curious in their lilt. "If you, My dear, were empowered to make
such a choice, what do you believe should happen?"

Xiran misses half a wingbeat, fluttering off-tandem until she rights herself.

You think to yourself: Ally then enemy? ** hesitantly ** My Lady, in the War of
the Circles, may I ask...?

"Many of Us changed sides." The wind pauses, as though to hold its breath,
weighing, considering, even as you feel eyes upon you from the oak tree branches 
above. "Mysrai could not have been stopped had We not. Yet She stayed."

You incline your head politely to those around you.

You reach upwards and concentrate on finding a sturdy branch, then lift yourself
up with relative ease.

Xiran frowns down at the conch, the pilgrims milling about cooking fires 
not yet lit.

The eyes now watch you while level with your perch, their brightness piercing
the natural shadows of such a labyrinthine canopy. Large and owl-like and 
curious and unblinking.

You think to yourself: ** a stirring reluctance, like mist trying to ascend a
hillside ** If I were empowered so... I would consider the Lady as She was 
before, for mortals do not live as long lives as the Divine, and many could not 
grasp the Lady Empyreal's desire to heal, what possibility She saw.

You think to yourself: My Lady? My I ask what possibilities You saw could be
lost, or what cause drew You to take Elder Mysrai's side initially?

Birdsong sings from somewhere nearby, unperturbed by your presence and the touch
of Divinity lingering near you. Again the wind rustles the leaves - like a caged 
breath exhaled, a silent and reluctant admission. "Like Mysrai, and like many 
Others, it grated me to be tucked away so neat and orderly into but a single 
role. To be instructed in My worth. Life is not frozen in winter forever - 
Change is inevitable. We may either embrace it or fight it."

You have emoted: Xiran nods, slowly and deeply.

The chirping of crickets surrounds you in a medley of night-time music.

"I dare not estimate Li-varili's reasons for fighting at Their side, nor why She
was so very unbothered by what They did." The voice falls quiet, though the 
presence lingers yet in the sweet breath of wind, a winding nudge back and 
forth, like rocking. And then She says, Her voice hardening, "Yet perhaps I 
might glimpse it in Her own heartless actions Awakening Spirit Sea."

Xiran's folded wings flutter before resettling.

The wind no longer blows with gale-force strength.

You think to yourself: What... What They did? ** a crimson ink-stain spreads, a
cruel purpose thrust upon Child--the memory fades **.

"When Someone claims to act only in Love, My dear," the voice softens, "allow
yourself pause to consider just what that means. There is Duality there, too." 
The shift in topic is swift, like bird flight catching a changing current in the 
wind. "If She could be healed, I would welcome another talented with Awakening 
among Our numbers. Yet She was already taken to the Empyreal's healing mound. 
Was She not?"

You think to yourself: Yes, my Lady. ** although she answers affirmatively,
vague figures emerge and fade from mist as the conversation shifts past her 
confusion ** And aye, She was.

You think to yourself: She... She had Her followers slaughter the Fae there, the
wisps of healing light.

"...and to what end?"

Xiran's brow furrows.

You think to yourself: Was it more than another act of spite?

You think to yourself: I have only the writings of official scribes to go on, as
I was not there, but it did not seem that such cruelty was needed for Her to 
wake once the Lady Empyreal's energies were elsewhere.

"Spite over Her own healing...? May their spirits return unto the land... did
Lantra allow Li-varili leave without finishing Her work? Surely not." Your 
Goddess's voice, normally so very certain with its silvered overtones, carries 
quiet notes of bemusement now as She muses at your ear, whispered upon the 
gentle wind. "Would She relent to healing anew, or would We witness the same 
events all over again...?"

You think to yourself: I... I would fear the latter. Mortals can hardly measure
to the strength of a Divine. Even with what support was offered, the Lady 
Empyreal poured so much of Herself into healing Divine Sibling. I would not wish 
to see what the Bloodtide Coven does this time in the name of the Lady of the 
Lagoons.

A gossamer thread of power hums on the wind, coruscating with silver light.
"Thank you, My wolf. Is there aught else you know and might share with Me about 
the Lady of the Lagoons before I go to think upon this?"

You think to yourself: In the end, I am not so empowered as to make a decision
such as this. It is too grand and too beyond me, what would be before You, my 
Lady... My mind turns more to Miss Daisee and Miss Acalia, of a fledgling family 
and a mother that yet avoids consequences... perhaps it is not my place, but that 
is where my compassion would be.

Xiran bows her head.

Laughter echoes from around a cookfire as pilgrims exchange anecdotes over bowls
of steaming stew.

"My cares will ever be with the people of My Sister's Forest, and with the fae,
Our children. And so My cares lie with you." The wind rifles through your hair, 
teasing its silver strands affectionately, and then it carries itself off, the 
presence's breath of springtime fading to little more than the confines of your 
storm glass amulet.

Xiran strokes a storm glass amulet with her thumb as she presses it close.

You think to yourself: Blessed be, my Lady.

Pilgrims mill around the campsite, sharing food and stories of their
pilgrimages.