Time Teaches

Time Teaches… But Not All Learn
Summary: Brother Destrian One-Hand meets Sister Cafell Penderghast in the gardens of the Laketown Chapterhouse. A storm is coming, so they talk about the weather… Among other things.
Date: 22/07/2013
Related: None
Players:
Destrian Cafell 

Gardens, Temple of the Four, Laketown
A simple stone path leads out into the garden of the Temple of Four. Several trees offer shade along with small stone benches for people to rest and enjoy the peace and fresh air of the garden. Though by far the offerings are more practical with the many herbs and vegetable patches that exist within the flowers and bushes that exist. A close look by one knowledgeable in the area, would notice that most of the flower and bushes themselves have purpose beyond scenery. Near the back of the garden is a small orchard with various fruit bearing trees : apple, pear, peach, and cherry.

Of the many paths that branch out in the garden, one can be seen leading over to an area that has been setup for the purpose of weapons and combat training for the Chosen of the Temple. Targets and practice dummies are arranged in several places along with open spaces for those more inclined for working in pairs.

22nd June, 1329

Quiet.

Destrian smiles.

From the look on the Chosen's bearded face, one might suppose that this area — the garden of the Temple of the Four in Laketown — is his favourite place in the world. The man sits on the ground, dressed in only the tunic and tabard of the Chosen, with his legs crossed and his body facing some of the flowerbeds where several of the more fragrant bushes grow.

His eyes are closed.

The man — in his thirties — appears refreshed and bathed, his long straw-colored hair hanging straight down his back, has his hands in his lap. Rather, he has his right hand in his lap, as his left arm terminates at the wrist. He sits with his back to the entrance leading further into the temple, and he ignores the Acolytes and Covenant who are tending the gardens. It is late afternoon, and the sun has not quite yet begun to set.

Storm clouds are being to gather in the horizon and the wind is slowly starting to stir and wake when a very tall woman with nut brown hair enters. She is dressed in the travel worn robes of priestess and the smell of sunbaked pine; horse and dust cling to her like an expensive perfume. In one hand she carries a wide brim straw hat that looks like it has seen better days and over her shoulders she carries heavy saddle bags and bursting at the seams her other shoulder is a satchel.

Pausing just inside of the garden she takes a deep breath and she smiles. Her smile is warm and bright. She offers a nod of her head to other there that see her and offer her greeting in the form of a smile or nod of their head. She then goes to open her satchel.

One of the Acolytes nearby tends a bare patch of healthy-looking soil, to prepare it for planting. She picks up a rake and instantly cries out in pain.

A splinter.

At the same moment, the one-handed man sitting near the flower-beds winces and lifts his arm (his left arm), staring at where his hand should be. He frowns, completely confused. Seconds tick by, until finally he looks up, spots the girl nursing her left hand, and then he smiles — ruefully.

The man pushes himself up, dusts off his tunic, and walks toward the Acolyte — who is not far from the Priestess, Cafell. Wordlessly, he smiles warmly at the Acolyte and then motions with his right hand toward the Temple entrance.

He is pointing toward the Infirmary.

As the Acolyte leaves, Destrian looks toward Cafell and smiles. "The music is about to change," he murmurs with a glance at the heavens. "Hello," he adds a moment later, as if remembering to actually greet the woman, belatedly.

Fishing around in her satchel she takes out a leather packet. She has been silent the whole time and when someone speaks to her she looks startled for a moment. She looks over at the man who is moving towards the temple infirmary. Then she looks around her to see if the man is speaking to another. Seeing no others she looks at him for a long time with her sea green eyes. She looks up at the heavens and nods. Then she frowns a little bit. Her words when she finally speaks are soft and quiet and stuttering like she is not use to using her own voice or hearing it. "Hhhello, sstorm is moving in. It will be raining soon." Her words gain confidence as she speaks.

Destrian releases his left wrist, letting his arm fall to his side and then smiles again at the Priestess. He inhales deeply through his nostrils and releases the breath through his mouth, nodding. His eyes look upward once more and his head turns from side to side, to gaze briefly in either direction.

"You do nnnot like the water-music?" he asks, looking puzzled. He matches the Priestess's speech almost perfectly — and without any apparent sign that he is aware of it. "I lllove the sound. And the smell." He holds out his right hand, palm-upward, as one who is trying to catch raindrops with it… even though none are falling as yet. He stares at the hand, smiling thoughtfully — all but ignoring Cafell.

"II llike the rain and the smell of it, the leaves turn brilliant shades of green as the dust is washed away." Her words are steadier but her voice is still quiet and pensive. "The sky is brighter too, but the night is dark as pitch and one cannot even see shifting shadows." She swallows hard. "Wwhat is your name?"

"Dark hhhides the colors," the Chosen replies with a nod — finally turning his attention from the sky back to the Priestess. "But nnnot the smells; not the music. See with your ears, when it is dark…" he pauses, shrugs and then adds: "My name is Destrian; what is yours?"

The wind picks up in the moment, kicking up particles of dust, and causing one the Acolytes to lose his straw hat — and he goes running of after it. Destrian's attention is drawn away to the errant hat, and he chuckles brightly.

"The wind dances!" he exclaims with a grin, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes alight with merriment. "Altheara plays games." He almost — almost — breaks into a run, like a child eager to go play with his parents, as he steps away to help the Acolyte chasing the flying hat.

"Ccafell, is my name." She grows quiet as she watches the wind dance and the Chosen chase after it. Her head is tilted to the side and she is just quiet. Her own straw hat she holds in her other hand while the packet is in the other. She watches with a curious look but she does so in the quiet. Her own voice simple becomes lost in the sounds of the world around her. She looks at one of the gardeners and walks over to them and hands them the packet and they offer her a nod of their head. She goes back to watching him.

Destrian succeeds in snagging the hat in his right hand, and walks triumphantly back to the Acolyte to hand it over. Then, he returns to Cafell, smiling brightly. "Cafell," he remarks — this time without mimicking the Priestess's stutter. He frowns as though trying to remember what he should say.

"Meased to pleet you," he adds, all but oblivious to the fact that he swapped letters around in his enunciation of the words.

A bell rings above the Temple, signalling the imminent approach of supper-time.

The silence seems to grow around them. It is almost like a living creature seeking comfort. "Mmother Caffell." She says to him. "If you are formal and it is a pleasure to meet you." She pauses again and she beings to chew on her lower lip. "You should head for dinner?" She questions him as she tries to figure him out.

"You smell like fire," the Chosen replies with a nod and a warm smile. His tone — and countenance — is light, cheerful, friendly. He speaks the words as if expecting the priestess to fully understand them. At the mention of 'dinner', however, his stomach growls audibly and he moves his left arm to put the non-existent hand over his abdomen.

Without using words, he motions with his right hand to the woman, beckoning her toward the Temple's interior. His eyebrows are raised, brown eyes staring without blinking, silently asking the priestess if she would like to join him inside.

Two Acolytes bound past them — running so as to not miss out. Destrian snorts. "Everything goes where it is meant to — why do they run, then?"

He looks once more at Cafell, with the same quizzical expression as before.

"Hhabit." She says simply. "Habit and the preconceived idea that this is a race. In some families if you dawdled there would be nothing left. Some come from those poorer families. It takes time to break a habit and to learn patience." She says in that quiet soft voice of hers. Her eyes are bright. "Time will teach them."

Destrian frowns, confused again.

"The poor…" he murmurs. "One man has less coin than another — and they call him 'poor'. I do not understand." He looks across at Cafell — since they stand at roughly the same height — and forms a 'mouth-shrug' with his lips.

"Time teaches… Not all learn. Are you hungry? I am. Shall we go inside?" He smiles and takes a step toward the Temple's interior, as the smell of food already wafts out the door and into the garden — to be carried away by the wind.

"There are those outside these temple walls that have much and then there are those who have little. You are correct that their wealth is determined by coin. But it is not distributed evenly." Her voice is still pensive but she no longer is stuttering. Instead there is a quiet calm around her and her eyes have a soft and quiet look in them. "I am not, but you should eat." She tells him. "Most do, but suffering is suffering. If they choose not to learn and the continue down the path they have chosen then they will continue to find suffering."

Destrian pauses mid-stride, turns to look back at Cafell — frowning. "I know… this," he says with some hesitation. "But I do not understand it. The Poor are not poor. The Rich are not rich — not really. Nobility…hmph," he scoffs, shaking his head. "Noise." Then he lifts his chin — and his gaze — to the heaven, helplessly.

"Too much noise. Dead sounds, all of them. Dead colors. Dead dreams. They do not understand what they have — and what they do not." He looks back at Cafell again before stepping inside.

"Time is not a very good teacher."

"Time is just look beyond what you are seeing at this moment and thinking." She moves to sit down on a bench. "Death is just another transition." She leans back. "Silence, I should seek that out again." She offers him a soft smile. "Go and eat you will have a long evening.

The Chosen frowns once, glances away — then glances back toward Cafell as if to say: That is not what I meant. A moment later, he smiles politely, nods, and disappears inside the Temple — following the aroma of a hot meal to the dining hall.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License