Meditation Upon the Stem

This log happened not even a full hour after THE PREVIOUS ONE, so if you want a little more context about this, go and read that. Further is provided now:

Tai enjoys meditating in the Seer's Wood, and in his meditations he "creates" new creatures by combining a bunch of different things (canonically, this is how his qilin was made, and then it escaped his imagination into the real world). When he is happy with them, he sends them to the same island that he dreams of when he is happy, that is painted in Omei's temple. His mindscape is prone to change at the drop of a hat, and does so even when I'm solo RP'ing, so Omei adapting to this was just... *chef kiss* Brilliant! Anyway, here is the log. I hope you enjoy!

(Also I flat out bit my fist and did a muffled scream when it turned out Omei's mortal shell was the person who I had seen in my dream, and she was exactly who I thought she was.)

===Important Description:===

She is an Immortal, ensconced within a Rajamala shell and not much taller than the typical mortal. Her frame carries the suggestion of youth despite Her undeniable power, and pale tigerlike stripes paint her slight frame. Strong, wiry muscle belies Her prowess as a huntress; swirling motes of light curl through the air about Her. Despite their muted, subdued quality, they seem to catch and burn bright in Her empty eye sockets: mere, twin pools of prismatic radiance which are an unmistakable tell of Her Divine nature. Her furred features are dark as night but for the silver strands of Her whiskers, and the hair upon Her head has been cropped inexorably short, leaving Her eldritch, hollow gaze unobstructed.

(left to stretch down to Her knees) : a purple silk loincloth
(slung across Her back) : a dhurive of many colors
(behind Her ear) : a snow white star orchid
(slung over Her shoulder) : a bow wrought from chaos
(swarming upon Her brow) : a crown of moths
(across Her shoulder) : a rainbow quiver of arrows and light
(blazing throughout Her left arm) : a violet moon tattoo
(looped about Her left wrist) : a collection of sculpted brass bangles
(wrapped around Her right wrist) : cascading golden bracelets

===THE LOG===

Flinn nods gently, something somber finding them as they agree, "That is true enough..." before they offer a touch apologetically, "I'm afraid I should be going, for now."

You have emoted: Taiyang nods and looks upwards, towards the capstone of the pyramid. "I think I will be very soon, after a little meditating."

Shaman Flinn says, "Be well, then. I hope you continue to create."

You beam broadly at Flinn.

You say, "You be very goodly, too!"

Shaman Flinn says, "Something similar, always, anyway."

A flurry of wildflower petals fly up into the air as Flinn leaves to the down.

--Quick walkies over to where I was meditating the day before--

You have emoted: Taiyang exhales as he climbs the stem and quickly comes to a small section that withdraws a little ways into the stem, ever-so-slightly concave. Nodding at a striking, shadow-streaked qilin, who begins to clop out over the open air, he presses his back to the inside of the stem before crossing his legs.

Your pose is now set as:
Legs in the lotus position, Taiyang meditates with hands cupped over his solar plexus.

You have emoted: Taiyang pulls his arms in close to his side and cups his hands together over his solar plexus, palms facing each other and remaining apart in an open circle as he straightens his posture and closes his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale, and pause. Exhale, and pause. Inhale...

Light stretches from horizon to horizon as the sun ascends further, commanding the morning with its incandescence.

And then, simply as though it were amidst the cloudy dawn, Omei is there beside you, Her claws curled into the self-same position of your digits, matching your breathing - violet fire gathers in Her empty eye sockets, steady amidst Her meditative focus.

You have emoted: It is not Omei's sudden appearance, or the violet light that suddenly dances upon the inside of Taiyang's eyelids that causes the smile to come to his lips, but the sound of the matched breathing. He does not open his lips, nor does his breathing break. Inhaling, holding, and then exhaling as he continues to slow both his pulse and his breath.

"I am very happy to see You again!" The mental version of Taiyang once more sits upon an enormous pool of water that falls away into sheer nothingness, surrounded by chaotic, chimaeric imaginings - although this time he appears very much the same as his physical form save for the glowing of his tail. "I feel like it has been a very long time."

The steady, attentive centrality of breathing - of body - of life. Even Omei's moths lie still against Her close-cropped head, making a much less mutable crown than is common of the majestic, mischievous whisper. Her eyelids fall, though they do little to mute the brilliance of Her gathered gaze, and She, too, smiles - the expression making a wide, wild wend of Her violet lips.

And there, too, sits She Most Chromatic facing you - Her projection as natural as anything else that might be imagined, violet-eyed and even more mortal in mien than Her physical self. Fiery orange clings in Her scarce-striped fur, and She lies, luxuriating, upon a long tree branch, Her claw skimming the waters. It scarce troubles Her that the branch terminates in thin air, bereft of any tie to a tree trunk.

"It has. Thank you for letting Me join you. This is a fine start to a morning."

His tail passing back and forth behind him slowly, the boy looks on with a brilliant smile that falters briefly as something that looks to be a strange cross between a giraffe, seal, and hippopotamus floats overhead. "You are my friend, so You are always welcome! Especially when we are in Your Wood...though I suppose this is also inside my head..." He shrugs and laughs light-heartedly, the motion pealing waves of bright yellow through the dark mindscape, "Though I would have tried to send more things to Tiantang if I knew You were coming."

Violaceous ripples spread from the dipped quill of She Most Chromatic's claw, a calligraphy that illustrates a stark contrast of sunless sea against golden-sunned heavens above. Deep and glimmering with mischief, those waters, much like Her eyes, mirroring the menacing forms of fae and still stranger beasts of the deeper Dreamworld. All those, however, remain constrained - mere objects to observe, distantly and dreamily.

"There is no need for such courtesies," She is quick to assure you. "The serenity you find in these moments is what draws Me, tailed one. It is what soothes Me."

Though his gaze follows the trail of the claw, there is no shock or recoil at the darker creatures within. He watches with idle curiosity, and then he looks up, asking, "I am glad, then. Although, I am sorry that I missed Your Court. I am sure it must have been very fun," he grins, and his tail flicks upwards, setting droplets of water to hang in the dark like stillborn stars. "Though, maybe if I had not missed Your Court, then I would not have dreamed of the girl with Your eyes, but bright orange fur."

"It is hard to think of what might have happened, I think, and causes too many bigly thoughts. Better to think about what has. And what is happening."

Now, amidst all the other ethereal things gleaming and winking in the waters of consciousness, one image rises to the fore: the Goddess' reflection, just as She appears there, orange-furred and violet-eyed. A smile curves across Her lips, bittersweet.

"I do not often dare to dream of being her."

A blush on his cheeks is mirrored a thousand times over in the scarlet that cascades skyward, growing pink and rose as it stretches to the horizon. "Is this....what Hioma looked like, before she was You?" Just as plain as there is caution and shame in asking of the question, so too is there hungering for the answer - the memory of this exact image painted in the temple below where Iesid and Sekeres looked on in quiet fascination burning at his consciousness and reflected in a multitude of layers in the water below. A fear, that he unwittingly hurt them.

She Most Chromatic nods - and the image in the water, she of scarce-mentioned name, Hioma, nods in answer, looking upward in turn to the Goddess' deference. Her chin falls again as the Goddess' rises. There is sadness, there, but warmth nevertheless, an amber and verdigris gleaming in the sky at Her toothy smile.

"More accurately, this is what she might have looked like, had she been nineteen." Her chin settles on Her claw. "She would be, right now. Adventuring, perhaps in a guild. Getting into mischief. Falling in love. All the possibilities that make us remember what we mean, when we say 'unforgotten.' No part of what she gave us is less than a gift." Pink rays pierce the sky as well, now, further softening its alien rays. "Not even the grief we grieve for her and all she might have been instead of Me."

The boy's lips turn up in a smile, but his eyes are sad, and the thought of the landscape springs forth, spinning in place in midair as he considers it. "Would it be a kindness, to be rid of it? I do not think he could ever forget, but I wonder if...she is as special, if she is unknown? Is it more kind to have everyone know of what she did, and who she was, than it is meanly to the Seer? I...I made him think of things that made him cry..." His eyes fall, and he rubs his arm awkwardly.

"Yes, it is more kind." Her voice is absolute, a low, rough answer that catches in Her chest. "It was the last request of the nameless huntress. Remember her. *Remember* her." The images that rise are sudden and raucous in spite of their silence - flares of rainbow-hued light, as two Rajamala of Immortal power grapple, glaive against dhurive, to decide Who shall become. The lightning flash glares from the water below cast the angles of face stark, Her bright fur like menacing thorns of garnet gem in the dim.

"It would not be more or less special to deny him his memories of what was. It would be one of My Sister's cruelties. To take a memory is to cause a wound more lasting and potent than any... any- which can be inflicted upon the mortal body. Any!"

A flare of blood red turns Her face to a blazing mask, just for a moment, ere the raw light softens once more...

Emerald eyes watch the scene splashing below, wide and rapt as he drinks in the scene. The words ring in his ears, and the skies above grow murky and dark for a moment. Yet, as time passes, and he thinks, it soon brightens once more to a sweet silver; the morning fog over the flowing river of the Wood, clouding the rest of the forest from sight. "In time, it will hurt less." He speaks with conviction. "To see, I think. He hurts because he does not let himself think of her, or see her, or remember." He looks up, and his eyes are soft and kind, "It hurts, to think of things we have lost. But if we never think of them, then when something we cannot control will only hurt more. If we are with friends, and family, and Goddess, then we can hurt with love, and grow, and hurt a little less each time." He nods, and his tail swishes through the water again, "That is what I think, anyways."

The Queen lifts Her claw, diamondlike droplets glimmering upon the tapered tips of Her claws. "I think you may be onto something," She agrees, not without a sly, amused smile in spite of the subject matter. Her tail has risen to a slow, steady flick - neither bereft of energy, nor driven frantic by it. Simply a steady beat, matching Her outward breathing. "Mirrors are confusing sometimes," She admits, at long last. The simple, stark admission prompts a further laugh from Her, pinkish and soft as it plays over the waters. "It has taken many of us long years to... mourn. To grow. To become, and understand the full meaning of our first expedition."

"Expedition?" He tilts his head to the side, and the creatures floating rotate slightly in their orbit to match. "What do You mean?"

A flash of alien, many-colored sky rises in the waters, dispelling the silver in favor of a distant, shining panoply of rainbow-hued pinpoints. "That's why we went to Chaotic Dreaming in the first place, tailed one."

"What was left of Her was there. I needed Her memory, Her strength, to become."

Flashing in recognition, the boy's eyes widen, and he nods. "I remember! The Seer explained a little about it, though...miss Aolin then asked a bunch of questions, and he did not talk more abou--" He pauses, a realisation settling upon him that is mirrored by a heavy ripple in the water below, sending splashes of water over the far ridge but not disturbing the rainbow pinpoints. "...he did not want to talk about her. That is why he answered her questions instead. He must be hiding very much from himself." At this, some cruel trick of fate pulls a memory from deep within his own subconscious, though it lingers deep in the water beyond his gaze - that of a man with a great, bushy moustache surrounded by a palpable aura of menace. His naivety keeping the terror at bay, he looks back towards You and thinks, " how should I truly help, Miss Omei? Or...Queen Omei, since You are a Queen now, if You would rather be called that."

She Most Chromatic looks up at you just for a moment, violet eyes soft as they appraise you. "Queen Omei for formal occasions," She instructs you with a crooked smile. "I won't insist upon it in such circumstances as these, tailed one. The point of the protocol is performance. To whom are we performing?" She stabs a claw downward, at the strange, eldritch-tinged depths. "Them?" She scoffs, touching Her claw back to Her chest, and gives a defiant shake of Her head before adding, "Also- I answer to any of My aspects. Nightmare, Artist, Dreamer... all these are Me. My names and masks are many and more numerous than even Mebrene's, I think!"

The sun begins her downward journey towards eventual sleep, casting even, full light upon the land.

A wild grin, a joyous laugh, and the man vanishes under the dark depths as the air fills with brilliant golds and vibrant orange. "Then any time where I think I should probably be wearing more clothes, I will give You the fanciest name I can think of. And we can make even MORE names, so that way You can definitely have more." His tail, finally, resumes its pace with his slowed heartbeat, and he lets the joy hang for a little while as he happily sits in comfortable peace. "Then one day, when I am in Your order, I will have to come up with twice as many, so I will never use the same one twice. It will be a very goodly prank."

"I daresay you will fit in quite well, should you meet My Seer and Singer's expectations, Omei muses aloud. Her gaze has fallen upon the water again - upon the rippling images stirred to surface by Her idly-spinning claw. She seems less perturbed by whatever turbulence She may perceive in the murmurous waves, now, instead softly smiling. "My following, before it became the Court, commanded the services of a keeper of names."

Pondering the title for a moment, the boy thinks aloud, "A name is a story, so is it their job to remember all the stories that caused each name to be?" A beat. "Along with coming up with new ones for excellent pranks, I mean."

"Mmhmm." Mischievous violet, glowing in Her eyes. "Just so."

He nods his head, and he looks skyward with a brilliant smile before looking back down at You and nodding eagerly. "Then once the Seer and Singer have decided that I meet their expectations, I will see about being the best keeper of names, even if I get another job!" He seems to think of something, and then slyly asks, "By the way, Miss Omei, who is the liberator? I think of miss Meriana, but I am not sure, and I need to bring whoever she is to see the painting I put over hers and talk about her old one."

"I'm allowed to ask for help, the Seer said so. I just don't think he would have guessed that I might ask You." He grins, eyes full of the same mischief, but fair none of the violet glow.

"On this, then, Taiyang the tailed, receive but My one hint, ere I part from you." Beside you, in the physical reality of the Seer's Wood, you hear Her beginning to dissolve away, the cords and knots of Her Immortal frame slipping away to mere strings and whispers of departing, sibilant moths. "Presently, she is masked 'the light-and-fire liberator' - and she is neither of My Court nor My whisper."

At this, She dives - vanishing, not outward, but inward, into the deepest parts of your thoughts and past . The Dreamworld claims Her and Her moths, at first a frenzy of color and comets which all too soon has faded in the wake of Her absence.

You have emoted: It is several long minutes before Taiyang's breathing begins to quicken and he opens his eyes, glancing instinctively towards the place that Omei had occupied, and he grins. "You are just as tricky as me. That is the same hint Your Seer gave me!" He nods and slowly unfurls his feet, wincing as the sleeping limbs stretch out, though he smiles the whole while. "Thank You. I am gladly to have seen You again."
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