Pomp and Pharisaism

The Hawk and Dove Tavern and Inn - Main Room  


 * ''A relatively new establishment, the atmosphere of the Hawk and Dove is one of joviality and quaint ambience that is often crowded, smoke-filled and noisy with the banter of voices circulating within the room. It is here that locals come to drink, converse, game and generally relax and amusement themselves without the worries of their often hard and dreary life. . Like any good tavern, one can find refreshment or ease at the long expanse of the finely polished bar or perhaps at one of the many tables that await a friendly visitor. Looming large within the far wall rests a fireplace where the average man could stand clear within. The furniture is clean, comfortable that has been made of highly polished wood with the chairs having upholstered seats.


 * ''All of the furniture looks brand new, or nearly new, though some already show signs of a few nics and scraps from fights or clumsy customers. The wooden floorboards are regularly swept clean and are polished to perfection. At the far end of the room is a long bar with a large menu hanging upon the wall over head. Off to the left side of the bar is a door leading to the tavern kitchen where succulent aromas waft through the doors into the main room. A pattern of roses intricately carved upon the rails of a wooden staircase leads guests up to the rooms on the second floor where exhausted travelers can rest and relax. The walls have been white washed which adds contrast to the darkly stained timber crossbeams over head.

Meian is sitting all alone at a table, a space around her even in the bustling atmosphere of the tavern. She's leaning back comfortably with her liltrum in her lap, unbothered, fixing the tuning of the instrument by humming to herself and gingerly adjusting the pegs atop its neck. A half-drunk tankard of ale sits on the table before her, forgotten.

Sweeping into the tavern, Vhramis pauses only for a moment to cast a suspicious look about him to the patrons, before the black garbed ranger continues moving deeper, carefully sidestepping about half-drunk tavern-goers in the process of coming and going.

Milora Lomasa comes not from outside but from above, apparently having spent the night as an inmate of the establishment. It is very late in the day to be rising, and yet she has the bleary-eyed and rumpled appearance of someone who has just woken up. She smells faintly of mead, badly disguised by perfumed water, and the first action that she takes is to procure another dish of alcohol.

The mage's attention is caught by both arrivals- first Vhramis receives a smile that's both relieved and welcoming, the girl lifting her soft voice to call, "Oh, Master W-wolfsbane! While you're here... I h-have something of y-yours still..." While awaiting his approach, she lets her pale gaze scan the crowds, and then it is that she catches sight of Milora- staring in disbelief for half a second before hastily looking down at the table again. She does still offer a tentative remark of, "And my lady L-lomasa... Well met, I n-needed to speak with you, if you d-don't m-mind..."

Easily locating Meian as she calls to him, Vhramis turns to move to where she sits, drawing the shardwood longbow from his shoulder. Nodding to her, he carefully lays it atop the table, seeming relieved as well. "This is yours, of course," he replies with a second nod.

A steady gaze is cast towards Meian, and turns briefly on Vhramis; Milora then shakes her head, accepting her mug, replacing it with a few Imperials, and then turning for an empty table. "It can wait until I've finished," she replies rather gruffly, her usually soft voice rough with ... fatigue?

Meian reaches into the haversack over her shoulder, withdrawing a cloth-wrapped package. As her small hands slowly unwrap it, a soft blue glow becomes visible, brightening as more layers fall away- finally, at last the shimmering form of The Lady's Flight is revealed, handed over with reverence. "I never used her," the girl murmurs, "but t-thank you for trusting me enough to h-hold onto her." She takes her own longbow from off the table, slinging it over her back. That handled, the girl glances back to Milora, looking momentarily taken aback before acknowledging, "Ah... y-yes, my lady."

Wolfsbane looks to Milora to meet her brief gaze, staring blankly at her as she moves away off to sit alone. "That's fine," he finally replies to Meian, his attention turning back to his returned weapon, sighing softly as he slings it back onto him. He rolls his shoulder slightly, before clearing his throat, and leaning in to talk quietly to the bard.

It happens that the Lomasa's attention is caught by the glow of blue; curiosity crosses her smeared features as she furrows her eyebrows and leans in, examining the seraphite-laden weapon and then the faces of the two people as they converse. The mead mug never leaves the area of her lip and chin.

Meian murmurs a soft reply up to Vhramis with a faint smile: "Yes, I u-understand. Fare well, Master W-wolfsbane... I'll hope to see you around Night's Edge s-sometime soon." She bows her head in acknowledgment, fingers wandering inexorably back to the liltrum's pegs now that the trade is handled.

Slowly but steadily, Milora finishes her breakfast. She drinks quicker than a normal person, as though she's used to consuming the liquid; when she'd done, she abandons her mug and moves to sit opposite of Meian. "What is it, Mistress? Gently, I've a headache."

Wolfsbane dips his head again to Meian, turning to glance to Milora, repeating the gesture, before turning to wander off. Presumably to do something important. Though likely not.

Meian bites her lip, offering unsurely, "Are... you s-sure you should be drinking when you've just... ah, yes, my lady." Thankfully, her voice is as soft as usual, nothing aggravating to a hangover. "I was t-told that my lady was asked to s-seek you out about religion... about the Order, and w-what Night's Edge was doing wrong. I... would like to see Night's Edge become a part of the Order, and I've heard t-that you and my lady do not so much get along... So I was wondering if I could ask... what is it about our f-faith that differs from what's desired?"

There's a long pause; for a moment, a flicker of very sober disbelief flickers across Milora's soft, ruddy features. She folds her brown hands together in front of her face, peering over them at Meian for a moment and then leaning her chin forward and flipping her wrists under to rest her chin on her interlocked hands. "Did you know that your stutter is exceptionally annoying?"

A simple blink of incomprehension, before Meian's eyes widen as if she's been slapped- the girl looks down swiftly, hands folding in her lap nervously. The stutter thickens as she attempts to reply, voice faint, "I... I-I'm s-sorry, my lady, I've b-been trying s-so hard to work on i-i-it, but w-when... when I'm n-nervous I can't, I r-really c-can't help it." Hearing it worsen she flushes in helpless dismay, sinking lower in her seat.

Giving a low chuckle, Milora extends her hand with the palm facing upwards, a wtitch of her fingers serving as an invitation for Meian to put her own hand there. "To be honest, I am really not so easily irritated, and I can forgive you for such a small imperfection anyway because you have a very sweet singing voice. I expect, at least, that it was you that I saw on the masque night, Red Raven?" She pauses, smiling almost sleepily. "I would not sit and waste my time, however, speaking to someone who would not listen to anything that I said that might accidentally be offensive. If you promise not to mind my honesty, I will tell you what I am able."

Meian doesn't look up or put her hand on Milora's, remaining in that same rather withdrawn position. She does acknowledge quietly, in a slightly unsteady voice, "Y-yes, my lady, I.. I w-was the R-red Raven. I p-promise not to be o-offended, I came h-here s-seeking to know the a-absolute truth. I didn't w-want a-anything b-but honesty in the f-first place, so that I c-could see if there was... there was a-any way the Order and Night's E-edge could be r-reconciled."

Frowning, Milora withdraws her hand and shakes her head at Meian. "I wish you wouldn't be such a mouse; it's so provoking." The hypocrisy of this statement is not lost on her; at least, she seems to be bothered by her own words. "You asked, essentially, what was /wrong/ with your faith. Could you tell me exactly what you would like to know from me?"

Meian lifts her gaze finally at that, staring evenly at Milora. "You w-would not w-wish me to be otherwise, my lady," she offers up quietly, taking a deep breath and folding her hands on the table. "I was t-told that my lady was told her f-faith was broken, and to see you about it. I don't w-want us to conflict with the Order of the White Dragon, so what I need to know is what w-would be wrong enough to call her faith broken."

Milora furrows her eyebrows again, a little crease appearing at the top of her nose where she wrinkles it. She leans forward and shakes her head. "Mistress, I was very drunk not half a day ago. You'll have to explain a little better. Who told you that Celeste's faith was broken, by whom was /she/ told, and who told you to see me? And what do you mean by 'broken'?"

"I don't know," Meian admits, with a slight shake of her head. "Well, I know s-some of that. His M-majesty the P-prince is the one who t-told Lady Celeste t-there was something w-wrong with her faith, and r-referred her to y-you. Lord Lyddmull is the o-one who told me of t-that happening, and also t-that you and my Lady had had a... f-falling out, so I didn't think you would h-have ended up talking to her about f-faith." She pauses, inhaling deeply before continuing rather abashedly, "So... so I decided myself, s-since you had been kind to me in the past, m-maybe I could ask you instead of her and see what the Prince w-wanted her to learn."

"A falling out?" Milora repeats, leaning back in her chair and giving Meian a scrutinizing glance. "I mostly just screamed at her, actually. It was wrong, but not insincere, of me. -- Everyone talks and talks and talks about Celeste's faith, but what /is/ her faith? She has been so busy defending her /methods/ with a self-righteous passion that I have never been made to understand. Celeste likes to be understood, but she wastes too much time muckpuddling to actually lay the facts out. Do you, or does anyone, know /exactly/ what it is that Celeste believes?" This last bit is almost a challenge; Milora raises her eyebrows.

"M-my lady d-does have a tendency to talk in g-grand ideals instead of specifics," Meian admits calmly, "but I do believe I know. And as far as I k-know, what she believes is... very much the same as w-what the Order does. The Light is good. The Shadow is evil. Touched and Kissed can be e-either good or evil, although the use of the S-shadow makes it easier for Touched to b-become corrupted- by using a naturally e-evil gift, even for good ends, they are doing risky things. Because of t-this, the Touched need special attention. T-they need to be taken in and taught that t-they have a -choice- between good and evil. Where the d-division might lie is that my lady b-believes Touched can become p-priests, if they f-fight that corruption and its temptation well e-enough." She leans back slightly in her seat, inquiring in a level voice, "Does t-that clarify m-matters enough?"

"Yes, and from this, I can tell you that I do not fear for Celeste's beliefs. Meian, may I be utterly honest with you?" She pauses, drawing her breath, and continues, already knowing the answer. "If what you tell me now is true, then there is no reason to fear for Celeste's faith. I fear for her sense, however, and also for her sanity. Celeste lacks anything like consistency; she says whatever she believes her current companion would like to hear; that is why the purpose of Night's Edge appears to have changed seven or eight times since news of it first arose. I believe that this is done in fits of narcissism; Celeste is unable to admit that what she is doing might be wrong, and so she risks contradicting herself in order to desperately defend her point. When she is no longer able to fight reason, she attempts to move her aggressor's sympathies. In short, I believe that Celeste's goal is not for Light, but for the aggrandization of /herself/. If she goes any good for anyone, Touched or otherwise, in the course, which I doubt, it is by accident."

A sigh; Milora casts her eyes aside for a moment before bringing them, almost apologetically, back to Meian. "As for Touched people becoming priests, I'm sorry, but it is not my place to say and it is certainly not Celeste's. She was a Scourge, and she has many of the same beliefs as a priest, but she does not have the legal authority to raise anyone else to that position as far as I know. If she names you, or Master Griedan as such, for example - I am fully convinced that it does not /actually/ mean anything in the eyes of the Empire. Again - out of arrogance, she assumes grandeur that is not hers to assume. Vanity is a sin, Mistress Meian."

Meian quirks a brow, murmuring, "You seem to k-know a rather different Lady C-celeste than I do, my lady. I can promise y-you she has done much g-good for me. From where you s-sit she may help no one- yet she has g-given me a home, a place, and s-something to believe in, helped teach me that just because I was Touched, I was not evil. I believe you misjudge her, b-but to be honest... I'm not here to argue w-with you about my lady herself. And to be clear, I asked her to ask the Prince about T-touched being priests in the new Order- though she has t-taken on myself and Master Griedan to learn from her and to t-teach the Light, I'm sure she's aware that we are no p-priests by law. I'm unsure why people have a-assumed she's claimed that right in any sense b-beyond wishing to use our help in instructing Touched who need someone to help them."

A deep breath is drawn, Meian tapping her fingers on the table. "So her faith b-being flawed is... a personal judgment, and n-not a commentary on the beliefs of Night's Edge... and no one knows y-yet if the Touched can be priests in the new Order. That's h-how it stands?"

Shaking her head: "It seems to me as though it was understood that you, Mistress, and Master Griedan were to be the priests of Night's Edge until just now - and I suspect that 'now' effectively means 'since speaking to His Grace the Prince'. As I said, she is making no sense - her purposes change; she has no consistency, and so I believe that she must either be losing her sanity or utterly stupid. Because I rather like Celeste and would like to believe her to be as faultless as I did upon meeting her for the first time, I am inclined to believe the former." Milora's hands grip the table, as though in frustration that is not apparent on her face. "It is not that her faith is flawed. I fully believe that if Celeste were in her right mind, she would be most righteous and unwavering in her beliefs; however, she is a fool. A total blunderer. Meian, /it is not about what she believes, but the manner in which she chooses to conduct herself/. /She is doing a great many things very, very wrong/. /Only when she corrects her BEHAVIOUR and improves the state of her MIND will she ever appeal to those who would condemn her as I do/. Can I possibly make it any clearer to you, Mistress?"

Meian blinks at Milora quite mildly, simply lifting her other brow to match the first. "You did n-not need to make it a-any clear, my lady," she offers up calmly, "I had g-gathered that was your opinion. I've not s-seen any of this inconsistency myself, in t-that Night's Edge purpose has always b-been stated to be the same thing to me.... a monastery that accepts both Touched, Kissed, and anyone who wishes to learn w-with them, with a special f-focus on guiding the Touched that have t-trouble finding acceptance in usual religious settings. Of course, before there was a-any organized Order she had as much right as a-anyone to call someone a priest. N-now that there is such an Order, I merely w-wish to find out what our status will be. I cannot also, of c-course, lecture a noblewoman on her behavior... so someone else w-will have to tell her in which fashion she must c-correct her behavior and improve her mind."

She pauses, demeanor still perfectly level except for that sporadic stuttering. "In the mean-time, as his Majesty a-appears to have put some t-trust in you, perhaps you might be able to ask him if T-touched can be priests? I dare not approach him directly, and I'm s-sure I'm not the only p-person who wishes to know. If not, that's p-perfectly fine, but I appreciate you speaking with me today nonetheless."

Inhaling, Milora gives another shake of her head and rises. "Stay where you are," she commands with authority, causing a few nervous people to stare at her and one or two to jump. "This business of people walking out on me is very vexing and tedious, and so I will leave ahead of you now. You are foolish. You are blind. You follow her without thinking; in speaking to you, I find almost as little sense as I find when speaking to her. And now I wash my hands of this idiocy." Her shoulders heaving once, the little blonde turns to head for the door, yellow curls bobbing furiously.

Meian blinks very slowly at Milora... now more than anything she just looks perplexed, rubbing the back of her neck slowly. "I... wasn't going a-anywhere, my lady, I j-just wanted to offer my thanks. I -do- understand a l-lot more now. But, I don't understand- you said y-yourself that the beliefs I told you of- hers, also mine- there w-was nothing wrong with them. Why wouldn't I be m-making sense?" As Milora actually turns to go, Meian's expression softens. Rather gently, she calls after the departing woman, "Why are you so a-angry? I have d-done nothing to you, my lady. Please, won't y-you come back?" With a quickly indrawn breath, perhaps surprised at her own daring, she suggests, "...Maybe we c-can discuss what's hurting you so."

She stops dead. Rather slowly, Milora turns, a look of flat, bright surprise spread across her sincere countenance. For a moment she seems unsure of what to do; she is daunted; she looks briefly to the side and stammers. "A-I .... hurting /me/?" the concept seems to be totally beyond her. At that moment, shocked pale and knocked off her guard, Milora begins to cry. In fact, she fairly bursts into tears, immediately going searching for a scrap of silk from her somewhat soiled gown and turning her face away from Meian.

With that, Meian does rise- but it's only to cross the brief distance towards Milora, reaching to place a gentle arm around her shoulders and attempt to coax her back to a seat at the table. "Sit, sit, I'll be -right- back," she murmurs comfortingly, whether or not the light guidance to a chair is accepted. A few heads turn at the situation, but the girl looks around the tavern slowly, focusing her pale gaze on anyone who looks too long and -staring- back in icy silence. Those eyes and that expression seem to be enough to cause most gawkers to look away, and that handled, she rushes over to the bar to request a glass of water in a quiet voice. It's cradled carefully in her small hands as Meian also rushes back, spilling a couple of drops onto her violet skirts before setting the glass on the table.

As she is really in no position to object, Milora accepts Meian's aid in getting back to the table. She withdraws into herself a little under the strange attention, and appears consoled only when the water glass is in her hand. She sips it, silently expresses a mild disappointment and then downs most of the rest of it, sobbing lightly and giving a small, unattractive hiccup as she sets it aside. "Thank you. I am sorry, I behaved badly."

"It's all right," Meian murmurs sincerely, with an anxious little smile. "I know v-very well that when one is f-feeling most hurt, they end up lashing o-out at others, whether or not they intend it." Leaning forward and speaking in a slightly softer voice yet more forceful voice, she intently assures Milora, "Nothing I said w-was meant to mock you, or be anything b-but the truth... I know nothing of this... s-strange behavior of my lady's. All I want... All I want is to be part of this O-order. To show o-other Touched we can be part of the Light, too. T-that's... that's all I want." Sitting back, she reaches into her haversack for a plain cotton handkerchief, offering it to Milora. There's a brief silence from her before she asks, voice back to its reassuring gentleness, "Do... you w-wish to talk about what ails you? M-my lady, it seems you are so desperately... u-unhappy that it hurts to see."

"It frustrates me that you assume that what you say is the truth. I do not claim to be right in all that I say, and I hardly know what the truth is; it is presumptuous and silly to be so self-righteous when one knows so little. I have known Celeste longer than you have; before she became powerful by aquiring land and people who would serve her, I thought that she was merely passionate and I did not see the evils in her that I do now." Pausing to wipe her eyes and finish her water, Milora first attempts to avert her eyes and then looks Meian right in the face. There's a twitch of something; she seems about to speak and then turns away again. "No, I do not. My pain is not important now, and not to you - and I do not say that to inspire pity. But so few people have ever asked me..." Her voice breaks and she shakes her head. "I would not like to see such a fine woman spoiled."

"I a-assume what I say is the truth, self-righteously?" Meian blinks, visibly and audibly surprised. "A-about what? I... I don't claim to know a-about the Light and the Shadow, my lady. Only to... believe, that o-one is good, one is e-evil, but that those Marked by either c-can choose their destiny. I am... constantly a-asking, constantly wondering... what's the t-truth, why any of us were c-chosen. If I have a problem, it's... doubt," she confesses heavily, gaze slanting away. "D-doubt of how a-any of us can resist c-corruption, doubt of... many things. And I don't b-believe my lady means evil, but I have n-not called you a liar, or said y-you're making any of t-this up... I'm simply confused. It isn't a-at all what I've ever seen."

A brief pause while the girl re-collects herself, her gaze returning to Milora's face, and she explains, "The reason I -want- to be a p-priest at all is pain, and the a-aiding of it. Every man or woman- whoever t-they are- needs someone... someone to confide in. And as for spoiling me, my lady..." Now she smiles, a sad, rueful, tired twitch of her thin lips. "Believe me, t-there is naught you could do or say to spoil me w-worse than life already has."

"Meian," Milora half-croaks, speaking through the handkerchief as she turns soft eyes on the girl, "I do not know whether the Shadow can ever be a part of the Light. But you - you are good, and you mean well. You're not - evil, and I do not think that you have been spoiled by what you are. I suspect that Celeste cherishes you only because having you beneath her lifts her higher." There's a moment of silence; Mily's eyes are wide. "I was not speaking specifically of you when I said that. ... I know confusion. May I make a suggestion?"

"You're r-right, my lady, the S-shadow has not spoiled me- I am v-very new to its Touch," the girl murmurs, that smile lingering. "Other t-things, however, have gotten to me first, but it's not me I w-wish to talk about... I t-think you could use a listening ear. I myself have been l-lucky in having people who would listen to me- and one of t-those was my lady Celeste, who h-has held me as I c-cried, and cried with me. Oh, my lady, I don't know w-what you've seen to give you such a poor opinion of h-her... but there is one thing I -know-, know beyond a doubt, and t-that is that she has c-cared for me truly as a friend, despite everything I am and e-everything she is." It takes another momentary pause for Meian to collect herself after that, her smile shifting into a slightly less weary expression, even if it remains faint. "...Of c-course you can make a s-suggestion, my lady."

Nodding, Milora smiles. "I know that Celeste has the capacity to love, and love greatly; I know that she has many amiable qualities. Meian, you do not know that I love her as a sister, where I never had a sister. But I have other people to think about, and I can not allow my House to become associated with her until this is sorted out, because it would most surely bring us nothing but shame. If it is as I suspect and she is losing her mind, she will become only more unpredictable. As it is ... she is surely a narcissist, and I wonder whether she would regard you so fondly if you did not serve her purposes so well.

"Once she told me that a friend must always be honest with her friends, so as never to allow them to hurt themselves or others worse than the honesty might hurt them. I have, then, been as honest with Celeste as I can, as brutally honest, to the best of my ability - and I am sure that she must love me no longer." Breathing a sigh, Milora shakes back her curls and looks upward, frowning and closing her eyes, allowing water to spill down her cheeks again. "In my anger and my foolishness, in my own self-righteousness and in a fit of my own hypocrisy, I have turned away someone who has been as dear to me as anyone. That is where my heartbreak lies now."

A thoughtful look comes over Meian's face, the girl resting her chin in her hands thoughtfully. "My lady... One t-thing I would venture as w-well as is my lady Celeste has a capacity for f-forgiveness... And.. if I m-may speak plainly..." Her smile strengthens a little, curling at one corner wryly. "Well, if the h-honesty you gave her w-was anything like the h-honesty you gave me, I'm not so sure it w-was the best approach. Perhaps if you w-were to speak with her calmly, t-tell her what it is she's done that's appeared so very wrong... she may be unsure herself... Well, perhaps it could be mended?" She sounds rather hopeful, leaning forward with an intent gaze on Milora. "Oh, my lady, it s-surely can be fixed, -whatever- it is.."

"It is better that she does not forgive me; as I said, we can no longer be as sisters as long as she continues to behave in this manner." Milora's voice has suddenly gone cold, but her expression is hot and red. She looks away. "Rational speech does not move her. I was once a gentle thing - /once/. It seems that now I have been posessed by an angry demon of sorts; I have turned again. I could speak to her calmly and patiently once, but she would not be swayed - she will not admit that she requires change of her own; it would grate against her ego to be wrong. I wonder what will happen when she finds herself quite alone in the world, having at once turned toward and turned away from anything that would love and support her."

Milora rises a second time, breathing a sigh and casting the kerchief on the table. "You permitted me to give you advice: disregard everything I have said. Put Celeste's instruction at the back of your mind. Do not allow yourself to be swayed by one side or another, and give up trying to please everyone. Look with your own eyes, /decide/, and you will find people enough to support you; do not, however, forget to listen to other people. You can learn from them, but guard your mind. If your beliefs are altered because of someone else, be sure of the alteration."

Meian nods gently. She replies with a diffident smile, looking up at Milora slowly, "I find that... if I listen, let everyone's w-words flow through me... I can choose to take the good f-from everyone's ideas and t-thoughts, once I d-decide for myself w-what that good is. And all of t-these little.. pieces of learning... t-they're the foundation of my o-own beliefs. But those foundations are... are never -permanent, are n-never unshakeable, tomorrow's learning m-may shift everything. If I see my lady do s-something that is wrong, I w-will not stay silent. But I -promise- you it's the t-truth that I've not yet h-had any cause to criticize her, except on perhaps not w-wishing to compromise to join the Order. I have not s-seen this, this... cold, c-calculating woman you discuss." A deep sigh lifts Meian's narrow shoulders, then sinks them again in a gentle exhalation. "...If you s-see his Majesty... -please-, w-will you ask what I dare not...? If I could be..."

"She does not see it in herself, Meian," Milora says gently. "She does not realize her own faults, or perhaps it is only that she spends all of her energy trying to be great. I can not trust anything that she says any longer, but I am glad that you can. Trust is so important, but be careful with it." Closing her eyes at last, she nods and blinks. "I shall."

With that said, she turns to go again.

"I will," Meian promises, with a slight but firm nod. "I w-will watch her, and if I see a-any of this, these things you're s-saying... I won't be silent. My lady Milora, for her k-kindness, I love my lady Celeste, and I w-will not ever see her go astray if I can h-help it." The brief fierceness in that tone relaxes, as does her smile, the slender mage rising to curtsey to Milora's departure. "...Thank you again for speaking with me, my lady. Remember that if you e-ever need an ear... I do have two."

''Return to Season 6 (2007)