Peace, I Ask of Thee O River

Snowfall Basin - 


 * ''Located in the north-western quarter of Crown's Refuge, the area known as Snowfall Basin is quite an impressive sight indeed. Delicately balancing nature with culture, Snowfall Basin maintains the Syladris population of the freehold by providing them with a large area that remains suited to needs that have only recently been discovered.


 * ''Set around the basin itself - a bowl-shaped cold water depression carved into the surface of the bluff that Crown's Refuge sits atop - it is unusual by just how much it differs from the Human residences just towards the east. Open-air pavilions and gazebos provide much of the structures that the Syladris call home, while leather tents scattered between these more permanent structures offer a more suitable means of privacy than the depths of the water should such things be required.


 * ''A number of deciduous and evergreen species of tree have been planted amidst the area, turning the "Syaldris Quarter" into one small forest around the large stretch of water. Some pavilions stand taller than others, indicative of status within the newly forged cultural identity that the Syladris are attempting to shape, though all that can be seen feature flowing couches and benches that serve to adequately support and provide comfort for such an unusual half-breed race when they're not otherwise coiled around an overhanging branch or lost beneath ripples of icy water.


 * ''A blanket of fallen leaves and short, lush grasses surround the basin and the various structures and statues that inhabit the area, all contained within a short marble wall that defines the perimeter of this large region of natural beauty and architecture. Paved trails leading towards the east and south lead back to their respective pathways, while the shadow of Tempest Spire looms ever-present towards the southeast.

Taran is seated by the shores of the basin, dangling his feet in the icy water. Evidently so he can watch the fish nibble his bare feet.

The sound of Zia's whistling is almost eerie tonight, when the knotted, writhing fog is taken into account and the moonlight glancing off the tiny droplets. It is not that the tune is melancholy (though it is), but something instead in the way it drifts through the half-quiet Basin towards the dim glow of dying campfires.

Taran listens a while, and then - sight unseen - begins a harmonizing melody to whistle back in turn. Perhaps for no reason other than that it's music, and it's there.

If the twitch that comes at the corners of Zia's lips is a smile, it is not quite enough to interrupt the whistling. As some from of strange echolocation, it works, and she manages to locate the source of the counter melody. Brows twitch up a little in surprise to see Taran there.

Taran pauses the whistle to laugh quietly, offering a hand. "I can walk. I just get very tired, and spend more time resting."

Zia smiles a little, extending her own hand to accept his and lowering herself to a seat beside him. "You fell asleep the other day," she reminds softly. "After a mountain broke apart and in the middle of a wedding."

"I was not needed to play, and the ground had stopped shaking," says Taran quietly. "And it was my first day out."

"Aye... I hardly slept that night," Zia notes wryly. "I didn't think even you were capable of falling asleep quite that suddenly, though."

"I had overextended," says Taran quietly. "I probably should have gone back to the house from the Spire, and not gone all the way across the city. I was very drained, and when the shock of the earthquake wore off..." he shrugs.

Zia carefully tucks her feet beneath her, watching shards of light dance across the water. "You are feeling better now, though?"

"I am walking every day, as much as I can," says Taran dutifully. "...My feet were swollen."

Zia laughs, looking down at them and rolling her eyes. "I... would tell you to rest if I thought it would do any good."

Taran blinks. "Were you not just now chiding me for resting?"

"No. I think the proper term is 'teasing', and... more amused that you chose to come out here on your own, than anything else," Zia says.

"Why?" asks Taran, curious. "It is a beautiful area."

Zia nods. "Somehow, I think if you keeled over and ended up spending the night out here, though, it wouldn't do much for the healing process."

"The Syladris are very accommodating," says Taran simply. "What has you wandering and whistling in the fog?"

Zia shrugs, turning his hand over in her own and running her thumb across the lines of his palm. "I... do not know. It was not time to rest, so it was time to wander."

Taran offers his cloak over her shoulders, tugging her over to sit with him. "You have much on your mind."

Zia leans in to rest against him, but not so heavily as to run the risk of tipping him over. "Sandrim put it quite... aptly, I thought, when he said the world had gone batshit insane."

"..Tell me?" Taran offers, holding her in a loose but careful embrace.

Zia smiles a little. "Mm. A mountain cracked open, Naoi's who knows where, there is the trouble in northern Fastheld. You are recovering, and I am unsure where I stand with most of the goings on... which is unusual. Aye, pretty insane... but nothing new, really."

Taran nods. "A stone in a river may not move, but in not moving the river wears it down and sands it smooth. The branch that rides the current may never see its tree again, but it retains more of itself. A choice, I suppose."

"I don't think either the stone or the branch chose to be a stone and a branch," Zia says quietly. "But... it is coming to bother me less and less. I Watch. The world... continues with or without me, even if I continue to supervise it."

Taran nods. "Whether you are the branch or the stone, the river stays the river. It's running a little rough right now...but how you can deal with it is the same."

Zia pulls away a little, tilting her head so she can see his face. "And how has your river been running, lately?"

"Very gently," says Taran dryly. "Mountains fall, Fastheld is in chaos...it does not seem to reach me at all."

Zia nods, sinking back once more. "This does not bother you?"

Taran considers it. "I am in no shape to do anything about it anyway, nor are there any in power that would heed me. There is nothing I can do, but rest and recover."

"But it does bother you," Zia persists, softly.

Taran nods. "Some. I have always prefered to try and control events. But it has always ended badly. I should stop."

"What would you do if you did?" Ziavri asks. "When a person stops caring, what is the point of continuing to exist at all?"

Taran shrugs. "As well ask what is the point of continuing to exist when one's life is a long string of failures, Zia. We exist, regardless."

Zia sighs. "No... we continue to be, but not to exist. The hardest part of ceasing to exist is letting go, after that, it is not so very difficult."

Taran considers his bare feet, dangling in cold water. "I am tired of nobles, Zia. I am really just...very tired of them. I'm sure they will go tromping off to peer at the broken mountain. All I can do is watch and concede I cannot cross a street, never mind climb a rock face. The Church asserts itself again, but that is not a war I can win, nor any mage, else it would have been won centuries ago. If I let myself I would be saddened, or frustrated. I'm trying to let it go, instead."

Zia closes her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. "Are you miserable, Taran?"

"I could be, if I wanted to be," Taran acknowledges. "I am a meddler by nature, a seeker. This time there is nothing I can do - only watch the storm pass, and hope what I love survives." He gives her a light squeeze. "But ...I have you, and Sandrim, my sister and nephew, Tshepsi...and the wilds when I am strong enough. I am finding that perhaps happiness lies in reducing the scope of my ambitions, and recognizing what I already have and its value."

Zia smiles, but just faintly. "Then maybe you will be happy one day."

"Possibly," says Taran quietly. "...I miss the stars."

Zia opens her eyes, quietly studying the sky. "They have not gone. They only wait for the clouds to move aside, and they'll see the world again." She smiles. "'sides, I think there's a few left wandering around on the ground."

"I would suppose you have met them," says Taran slowly, looking down at the water. "Most of mine have gone west already. I think I'll go follow them, when I can."

"Maybe a few," Zia says. "But not all. The bridge... did it ever get finished?

"I don't know," Taran admits. "Sometimes I think it would be worth it to ...not wait, but ford at the Daggerford. But I think I would rather have a boat for that."

"I think... I could probably build a boat," Zia muses thoughtfully. "I have never done it, but from what I have seen, the concept doesn't look so different from, say, a bowl, or some of it a bit like a roof."

Taran nods. "...I can wait until I'm better," he says softly. "People will have gone to investigate the mountain by then. But I think I need to rest."

Zia nods. "Aye... probably best to wait until you can walk around without your feet swelling up," she agrees. "I will walk back with you."

Return to Season 8 (2008)