The Temple of Serenity

Aluandra appears almost lost in thought, turning to face the speaker only for the faintest moments before her eyes cloud in a veil of introverted contemplation, "I'm a bit familiar with the Seven Points, particularly how they apply to me, and the ones that I favor most." She gives a firm nod, the proceeds with "Aluandra." No last name given.

Aluandra



A woman was shrouded in white behind Aluandra, a veil pinned to the back of her head and left to cascaded over her shoulders and arms and around her feet. The garments she wore left her stomach bare -- toned, and pierced, and henna-marked with a tattoo of swirling flowers that wound about her side.

"Welcome to the Temple of Serenity, Aluandra," she said in her husky voice. "I am Panasha," she said and bowed her head. She stepped toward Aluandra, and if not stopped, meant to wrap her arm around Aluandra's own and take her for a slow stroll through one of the wide galleria terraces at the top of the temple. "Who taught you the Seven?" she wondered.

The priestess laughed a little. "Save your speech, child," the woman said. Her hands were cool on his face, soothing his burns and the cuts he endured. "The Temple will not be joining your religious collection," she said in a voice that brooked no argument, but was not exactly harsh.

"So it's tears for Yaia, but speeches for me, hm?" She teased the boy with a perk of her brow as she moved her hands away and washed them with water, then using new, fresh water, she gave him a cup. "Drink it all. You need to stay hydrated with your delicate condition."

Relinquishing to the sentiments of the other woman, the hard muscular cords of her arm betray the lithe gait of a woman calling upon a grace of step than one would not expect. Aluandra casts her eyes down at her bare feet as she walks, conjuring retrospective thoughts, "Helen Roe, the woman who raised me."

Aluandra's voice is expectedly deep, however there is also hints of an earthly contralto that wavers soulfully like a bard expressing an impassioned tale, nearly a whisper at times, and even then is like shifting stone. "Helen was well-versed in many worldly things, and through her, the difference between a mere fighter and a warrior... is me." her brows furrow in consternation, "The codes of far eastern countries' traditions have taught me how to die well, honorably, impeccably. But the teachings I've gleaned of the transcontinental desert countries have taught me how to live. So here I am. To gain a greater understanding of the path ahead of me, I must first gain a greater understanding of my self. So I can live the life that the woman who raised me blessed me with to live."

Aluandra was a woman of hard eyes and harder countenance, but there was an enduring quality to her make and mien that spoke of strength, rather than hardness; the strength to endure, where hard things would have broken. Something tentative has crept into her spirit; she is a fawn, wetting her hooves at the shore, nervous to face the oceanic depths that lie further out.

Aluandra

"You're not going to find what you seek in this Temple," the priestess said to the warrior as they strolled. A very gentle breeze tripped through the emerald fronds of the short and tall palm trees and shrubberies near them, carrying the perfume of the flowering vines that crawled around the columns and awning above them.

"This is only the place where you come to pray, not to live. The answers you want are out there, the questions you didn't know you had are here. I think that's why many choose not to pray at all. It sometimes feels to leave you worse off than you were before."

Her dark eyes looked over Aluandra for a moment, and then a gentle voice caught her ears. "Mother," and she turned to look. It was the priestess from the bay, who had ah... greeted... Aluandra. She approached and did not even look at the warrior woman, but instead greeted the priestess with a kiss to both cheeks, and then received one on her head.

"Aluandra, this is my daughter, Jadina," said Panasha, and then Jadina did turn to look at Aluandra, and it was there -- the heat and the mischief in her brown eyes, just for Aluandra.

She ran her fingertips over one of the markings, the touch meant to be clinical rather than sensual. "Hm," she said shortly, as if dismissing them. "Then I will leave them as they are." She had meant to heal them, thinking that perhaps some of the symbols had been carved into skin were the same as she had received hers.

She turned back away from him, making it once more easy for him to see the lashes across her own back while she went through the motions to clean her hands. "I was born into the tribes of the Solara Desert. When I was young, just upon my Blood Moon, our tribe was attacked and I was taken as a slave." She filled another cup of water, and handed it to him. "Drink."

The woman looked amused at Hansel that he wasn't aware of the phrase. "When a girl first gets the fertile blood between her thighs," she explained to the young knight. It would have meant she was only 12 or 13 when she was taken, but she didn't expound on anything else that might have happened to a young girl taken by the tribes in the desert -- the same tribes that had come upon Hansel and had made him linger beneath the sun in order to get food.

"We could shave your head," the woman told him as he groaned at his hair. She wondered how it got singed. Just from heat? It usually took fire to singe the hair off others. The woman took a breath and then stood up, taking the cup of water from him. "You may rest more if you like. The milt poultice on your face is helping your wounds, but if you find you're fine with it, you can wash it off. You may explore Sakand as you wish, but the Lady Fairuz has an inquiry into your identity at the moment, so I would not suggest exploring far."

She moved as she spoke, procuring Sakandi clothes for him that would be better suited for the weather, and lying them beside his other clothes that had been laundered. His armor, however, did not seem as if it had been touched. "And if you have a need to find Yaia again, she is at the Cerulean Bathhouse."

"Mein gott...." Hansel looked at the woman in disgust. This seemed to be such an odd place, especially where being raped as just a kid was shrugged off so simply. An urge was growing in him, on so primal; the ones that drove the Crusaders, the urge that made seemingly ordinary men release blood boiling screams, cut bodies in half and bite out throats. In his mind there was their song, their chant of war. "Ours is the only just demand, when we fight for this holy land." he said not realising it was out loud. Looking to the Priestess he tried to dissuade any fears. "It is part of a song, it does not mean we shall attack you, just the bastards that do such horrible things." 

When she brought up someone inquiring about his identity he panicked for a moment but then relaxed. "There is a Chapter House of our's in the Region of Medan. They may contact them since they are the part of our order that is nearest. It was damaged in the uprising but they are always ready to speak, and contact the greater parts of the Order." 

He appreciated the arrival of the Sakandian clothes but they were not for him. The Order had led Crusades in deserts before and the Knights then did not remove their armour, so neither would Hansel. Besides, his buunvar leather kept him relatively cool, only falling to the heat after several weeks on foot through the desert and a day without water. When he was finally dressed, he bowed before the Priestess, and spoke to her once more. "How much was used upon me?" he asked, knowing the word "pay" would be brushed aside. "Oh, and the girl, I don't err... I am going to see her but I don't well... you know." 

Hansel von Dietzhoff

She perked a brow at his purr disgust. That a line like the one he spoke right after came from his lips said much about the young man. Perhaps she should send a note round to Yaia...

... but it wasn't any of her business. "Of course," she responded, her tone a bit haughty. "You mean the region of Goraia." She stood up and moved toward the doorway, and paused to look at him quizically when Hansel tried to say without saying that he wasn't going to Yaia for sex.

Given that the Sakandi did not consider the Sabina Taliph to be whores, nor their services to be summarily rounded to sex, she was confused. Until she remembered who Hansel was, and the culture he came from.

"I wouldn't worry," the priestess told him. "You may stay at the temple until your paperwork comes through, or until you find lodging more preferable for your needs."

If nothing else was needed, she left.