Paired Opposites [Day 0]

[Emcas]

"I am called Emcas" he said "I wish Bacri well, may he learn to fly with his own wings now"

[Kannon]

A discreet sound of a nearby lift indicated that someone would be passing through this level.

[Nirilli]

"Nice to meet you, Emcas," she said with a shy smile. "May all find ways to soar and to nest, as pleases their hearts."

At the sound of the lift, Nirilli stood hastily and began folding up her prayer mat that had protected her knees from the soil.

She was definitely not out here planting a plant. No sir. Praying. She could have been praying.

She ought to be praying. Maybe later.

She pulled out a pair of elegant elbow length gloves that matched her outfit, and all sign of soil on her fingers disappeared beneath the elegant moss-green fabric.

[Emcas]

Emcas tried to look at ease but the indication of a new arrival had him on alert. Might not be much but it was better to be ready then not.

''You as well'' he replied to Nirilli

[Kannon]

The lift would indeed stop at their level. Two women would walk out, both quite familiar to them, mother and daughter. They arrived in silence. Salomea had it perfectly in control, that of a watchful yet kind custodian of the area, ready to unhurriedly intervene if needed. Xanthe's Bene Gesserit training wasn't nearly as good, though even in her case only the smallest indications Emcas had learned to see indicated that the conversation she had been through had likely been tense. It was the paler tissue where her cleft lip had once been that was showing hidden anger or distress by whitening ever so slightly.



Salomea did indeed scrutinise the space upon entering, having pulled her aba-like yet teal robes together. Nirilli had an impression, paranoid perhaps, that the gaze lingered for a moment at her and at the plant she had planted, but not a word of commentary was the outcome, so she couldn't be sure.



"Have you had good time here, Emcas?" The younger Ptolemaios, dressed tomboyishly in breeches and jacket, broke the silence, perhaps as a way to move on from whatever had happened.

[Emcas]

The bodyguard put a the left feet forward a was the zensunni tradition for a show of respect and bowed the to women, eyes cast down. He noted a few things but would not speak of it now.

''Yes, lady Xanthe.''

[Nirilli]

Nirilli had assumed the appropriate deferential posture upon their arrival. Head bent, eyes downcast, still as a statue.

If they had need of her, they would say.

Til then, she was simply one of the lilies. Decorative. Inaminate.

[Kannon]

"I'd have a word with my father before he leaves Areteion." She conveyed some sense of urgency in her voice. "Excuse me, mother."

"By all means, dear." Salomea seemed way calmer, as if she shared none of her daughter's emotional turbulence. "Make haste if you must."

[Emcas]

Emcas was ready to follow

[Nirilli]

Nirilli remained in place. Why had the women come here? Looking for the guard, Emcas? Looking to have a private conversation that now required a conversation with Lady Xanthe's father? Something was happening. Something urgent.

If it was important, her own mistress, the Archon, was surely well aware.

But she was available if there was anything needed. A message carried. A fetching of a drink or food. Still, the Bene Gesserit woman had always struck her as rather ... self-sufficient. A woman who needed little.

She knew she was the Overseer of the Areteion’s botanical gardens, known for expertise in herbal medicine. Gardens that Nirilli very much admired. She probably had noticed the plant. But this land was outside the gardens she maintained. (She had thought. Could she have that wrong?)

[Kannon]

/exit Xanthe & Emcas



Salomea took a moment, looking at the plantlife around the Zensunni woman.

"Nirilli, is it?" And then she switched from Galach to fluent Chakobsa. "Kuntu saghidan fi shababi."

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

[Nirilli]

Nirilli nodded and bowed deeply, and then answered in Chakobsa. Perhaps it was a cue to remain in that language. Maybe not. Best to follow every tacit order she could perceive, right or wrong.

"Yes, Reverend Mother. Nirilli is my name. The bird caught by a bird-catcher." Thinking of her arrival to the court five years ago. "How may I be of service?"

[Kannon]

"I am not a Reverend Mother. One cannot claim deeds their blood doesn't remember."

Salomea stayed in the language. It wasn't just functional, she knew how to handle religious undertones like a Zensunni would. Here, humility toward a looming rite of passage.

"Do you enjoy the life you have here, Nirilli?"

[Nirilli]

"My apologies. The roles and ranks are not well known to me." Oh! How could she have that wrong? Her worry and regret were sincere and obvious. She did not want to give offense.

"How is it best to address you?"

And then: "...my life? I am grateful for the chance to serve and only wish I could do so more perfectly."

[Kannon]

"How do your dates not taste bitter when your hajj is denied?"

A mellowed tone took some incisive edge from the Zensunni whip, but only some.

"Just: my lady."

[Nirilli]

"My Lady, you are kind to express interest in me. And to understand my people's ways, and what is and is not possible here."

"Were my life my own, I would eagerly participate in all the practices and rituals of our faith." Our faith. It was still hers. "There is the return, yes. The place of grandmother's grandmother's first garden. The deepest pool where the bakka wept her first tears."

Ah, it was sweet to speak of these places in her native tongue. To conjure even the image in her mind. Her smile turned less vacant and more warm. She would not let herself sound sad. Her voice would not break! But she did not veil the pleasure of the memories. People like this Lady surely liked to feel insightful. Let her see that the memories had meaning. There was no harm in that.

"And I admit I am curious for news of my kin and known ones. To hear their news. To know they are well." The hajj would provide that chance. Many pilgrims on the same path, on the same days of the year.

"But for the Wandering," as her people called themselves, for their ancient history, their ancient travels, "there is also the pilgrimage forward. The next migration. The promised land. Sihaya, the paradise to come." If the woman spoke their language so well and knew their customs, this was not telling her anything she didn't already know.

"The star-wandering are here." In the halls of this wealthy place of power. "The knowledge of all the far and shining places is here." In the court. "A lifetime's nourishment of another curiosity."

[Kannon]

"I have a friend on Arrakis." It did sound like a canto. "People of the ilm and fiqh do not weep there. They keep their tears for the paradise. Their souls write in Kitab al-Ibar. They do not have what you have and they have what you do not. They say God made Arrakis to test the faithful. One does not deny the will of God."

[Nirilli]

Arrakis. A place of testing. No tears. Different from here. A dry place? Their people were already there. A step forward or a step back? Impossible to know.

"God wills as God wills, and we do not will except that God wills – Lord of the worlds."

"Have you had occasion to travel there, my Lady?"

[Kannon]

"My works have. I have sent life to seek roots in a dry place."

[Nirilli]

"Oh! It is good to help plants to thrive, wherever they find themselves. You have such skill in botanical matters. The gardens here are breathtaking."

"Is there a type of plant here that does well in the dry? So much of the land here is wet." Tear-drowned.