2019-05-20: Talise Gianfair, First Seer of Water
- Log: 2019-05-20: Talise Gianfair, First Seer of Water
- Cast: Seraph Lanval, Talise Gianfair
- Where: Kilika - Town Center
- Date: May 20, 2019
- Summary: Things seem overwhelmingly bleak without answers, for one now tasked to really take stock of a greater picture as they lay about the outskirts of Kilika in contemplation. As a mortal - no, their dear friend Talise - reminds them of the importance of focusing on what can be done, there comes the realization not just that she is correct... but the reminder that they are an ideal candidate for engaging one front they can readily help with before it can become a problem. In doing so, the first Oracle of Schturdark appoints the first Seer of Water right as the sun rises.
===============================================<* Kilika - Town Center *>=============================================== Kilika is an island off the southern coast of the Spiran mainland, consisting of a small port and village, a large jungle and a Temple of Yevon. The island is renowned for being the hometown of High Summoner Ohalland, who was a star blitzballer before retiring from the game to complete his Pilgrimage and defeat Sin. As a result of this history, the Beasts are one of the most-loved teams in the entire league, and even rival blitz players will stop to pray at the Kilika Temple before a particularly critical game. The port of Kilika was recently ravaged following an attack by Sin, and the surviving residents are slowly rebuilding. They have received unexpected support in the form of the outlanders who serve the false goddess Althena. A few dozen soldiers and craftsmen are using their strange arts - as well as old-fashioned skill - to help with restoration. The Temple of Yevon has put out the word that this assistance will be tolerated so long as the Guardsmen refrain from proselytizing their false creed; an uneasy sort of feeling hangs over the entire village as a result. BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXsmMuXLtuQ
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
It's not more than a day after Fox Company's helped with Kilika's rebuilding efforts. It's the wee early hours of dawn, where the sunlight will eventually overtake the full sight of the Gaia overhead - the Blue Star itself, Filgaia. Thus far, they've avoided attracting the ire of the Guard, but their numbers have been spread thinner since the disastrous Operation Mi'ihen.
Though they earned their rest, Lanval's a bit restless. He's seated in a shallow pool of water about the outskirts, just looking up towards his new home overhead as the encroaching daylight threatens to take away clear sight of it. He knwos full well of a great problem Filgaia's already facing without the means in which to deal with it present. Both known Oracles are here. All the known bearers of Silver Mediums are here. Even the Shaman is stranded up here. There's a Fell Dragon on the loose, and those with the means to stay the hand of Malevolence from spreading further cannot be there.
Schturdark is silent to him, from this far out. Obsession continues to plague Spira, and bear a threat to Lunar. It is not a great jump in logic to assume it might find some way to attack Filgaia proper.
He's indulged in a few small joys to keep his mind off of the dread, but he can't forget how serious the situation has become. On his lap, his drinking gourd - now bearing the weight of the water of Filgaia itself, which he sips from every so often in meditative contemplation.
What's the next step they can take, he wonders to himself.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
Guardians have always been a subject more of story than faith to Talise, and they probably always will be. Her faith is ensconced in one place despite the fact that Althena doesn't seem to deserve her love all that much right now.
"Having a bath?" her voice comes from a ways behind Lanval.
The swordswoman comes strolling up, around a copse of ferns between herself and the Rain Oracle. Talise dressed more normally today, pairing her shorts with a more modest Spiran tunic and knee-high boots, her sword and lute slung over her shoulder. Gloved hands come to rest at her hips as she looks up into the open sky.
"Maybe that isn't such a bad idea," she muses as her eyes get lost in the shape of the Blue Star, so dominant on the horizon even at this time of day. Absently, she scuffs one heel against the tuft, then her toe, as she sinks for a moment into contemplation.
"You seem like you've got something on your mind," she finally says as she cants her head towards Lanval. "What's up?"
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
"Mmmmm... 'm water. I'm kinda alwaysh havin' a bath," and so Lanval has unlocked the Tales title, Bath Oracle. The japes aside, that personal aura of cheer and mirth does seem a fair bit muted in his contemplation - but it grows a little more as he turns his head to see Talise there. He's always happy to see her.
"...Ya got me, that'sh fer shure... yep..." He lets himself relax, which is to say, to flop onto his back and just let himself partially sink into the water, eyes closed peacefully as his beard hairs drift about the surface. This patch of water looks clean and sparkling as always, as is what he naturally produces as a Seraph.
"...The Clysmian Obsession... shtill livesh," he says. He was there for that Operation, right in the front lines. "...'m shorry if I worried ya, fer how long it took me ta get back... mmmmm. Fell Dragon's looshe on Filgaia, and thoshe are bad... 'caushe where they go, they leave a whole lot of Malevolence." That is bad. "'n everyone I know that could do shomethin' 'bout it... they're here."
A moment passes.
"...How're you, though?" He opens up an eye half-lidded. "I know their death'sh been weighin' on you."
The Dragonmaster, Ghaleon, it must be who he means.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
"There are worse fates than to bathe a lot. And hey, I don't imagine you turn into a prune." Talise shrugs with a lopsided smile as she looks back down, her shoulders angling back a bit as her posture relaxes.
It doesn't stay relaxed for long - particularly not as Lanval starts talking about Sin. She looks away and back up towards Filgaia in the distance.
"Wait, I thought there wasn't a Fell Dragon. We stopped the only two chances for one I was aware of," Talise muses with a blink. But she breezes past the topic and exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger for a moment. "Whatever. Just more problems. More stuff to try and clean up. And no Sorey around when you need him."
And no Ghaleon, though she's not even sure she could've counted on him to face down the enemies in need of facing down.
"I'm fine," Talise says with a shrug of one shoulder. "I mean, ultimately all I can do is take care of what's in front of us, and right now that means Kilika and whatever we can do here in Spira."
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
If Sorey's not here, hopefully, he's back over there... but Talise's wisdom holds true as regards what they can do in front of them. The free-floating Oracle brings a hand up to his chin as she says this. There is... at least one thing they can do, however small, it is something that will need to be done.
"...Yer right." He smiles gently again as he lets his arm drift back down into the drink. "...Might jusht be I'm lookin' at too big a picture at once." A concession, though it's been harder not to. That time in communion with Schturdark sure felt like it took him far, far out of the scope of comprehension he usually operates on. It came just shy of turning into past tense, until that shock of being deposited in a strange patch of ocean water.
"...'m glad I got ta meet shomeone like ya," the Oracle stirs as he turns in the water until he can come up to what looks more like a respectful kneel, rather than the casual sitting about he tends to do, as water streams off of his person (...manifestation of a person, technically). "Even when ya had trouble gettin' a hold of how ya felt 'bout shomethin'... ya shtill forged on like ya knew what ta do, no matter what shtood in the way."
The gourd once more rests in his lap. Despite being practically an embodiment of water, he doesn't look 'wet.' The cleaner-looking robes seem as vibrant and fresh as they have been since he re-emerged in person on Spira.
"...I mean, it ain't no shecret... ya really gave me the courage ta shpeak up where I ushed ta be afraid ta dare outright queshtion what wash goin' on..." Even at incredible personal cost that, in many ways, can never be recouped, but there's no sadness or regret in his voice. The only other alternative was to stay silent and continue to aimlessly lay about.
Objectively worse, for what it could have led to.
"...Iiii, uh, admit I might've not picked the besht time ta talk 'bout it while we were workin'," he laughs, "but... what I shaid'sh true! Through Schturdark, I can give the power to Purify the Malevolence. That'sh... shtill a heavy tashk. We've sheen what it'sh like, when a really shtrong one getsh cleanshed."
The emotional window into the source of what created the Hellion. Tragic stories have unfolded before them. A loyal canine companion at that place of trial... the emotional blowback was overwhelming, even to their hardened spirits. The experiences of the various Domain Masters of Mount Manfred, allowed to run wild and be magnified by a fell artifact.
Uncomfortable memories and upsetting experiences. Perfect opportunities for the Malevolence to settle, to build, and eventually overtake.
"I've sheen a few Hellions about Spira already. Jusht... onesh from Glenwood, but." He corrects himself before allowing a tangent to spin about the idea of Hellion Ronsos or what have you. "Maybe it ain't about ta become a big problem here... shomethin' 'bout it and the pyreflies all 'bout... but that meansh there'sh shtill people here who need help. Shooo... I guessh what I'm 'bout ta shay ish obvioush, ain't it?" He laughs jovially. The water surrounding him seems a bit more mirthful for it, like a rare bright spot in this dready, death-tormented land.
"...Can't name a more worthy champion - a Seer - than who'sh right in front of me--"
A frog ribbits. The frog is technically closer in front of Lanval than Talise. Lanval smiles, picks up the frog, and sets it down somewhere else in the body of water.
"...The one who'sh right in front of me that ain't a frog. I mean."
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
"I'm just trying not to dwell on things," Talise says, scratching at one cheekstripe perfunctorily.
When Lanval lowers the gourd to his lap, Talise cants her head towards him with a blink. The words of kindness brings a soft blush to her cheeks, and she clears her throat, scuffing her toe in the turf and looking off to her left as if to try to find somewhere to put her gaze that's less embarrassing. "Ah. Thanks," she manages, not really sure what to say at first.
She smiles ruefully, folding her ars beneath her chest as she turns back. "I sometimes don't know how anyone sees any particular courage in me, or why the Green Knight saw it. But I'm glad at least someone feels I did something helpful for them."
When Lanval begins to get into the finer points of Oracledom, Talise's eyebrows come up shallowly, and she uncrosses her arms, one hand migrating to her hip. "Yeah... yeah, I've heard they've been coming here. I thought I saw a couple after the big fight with Sin...." She tilts her head a little to the left, actually not quite sure what Lanval's planning.
Talise meets the request with a quick blink. Once, twice. "...You want to make me a Seer?" she repeats with a bit of disbelief. "But I don't even worship the Guardians...." For a second she hesitates. "...Does that actually matter?"
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
He nods slowly as Talise repeats what he says, as affirmation. Yes! Her. He remembers her question about whether her faith would matter.
"...Ta hear it from them, I'm a child of a traitor." Lanval says as he relaxes back into a pious kneel while the frog continues to swim about peaceably in the water. They don't have much nice to say about Althena. "Their concern... above all, ish sheein' to the protection of Filgaia. It'sh had it rough..." The Oracle closes his eyes again. He could feel the fading life of that planet more keenly than most. The lack of Malevolence through the vast majority of where he'd been there felt fine, even nice, it might've been the Seraphim equivalent of being able to run around bare naked without consequence. (Which is to say, not have a vessel and just carry on without.)
"...Even sho, they don't bear any of ush ill will. Each one ish in charge of - and ish - the domain they represhent. Moor Gault ish the fire of Filgaia. Fengalon ish the wind of Filgaia. Noua Shax ish the lightning of Filgaia... Schturdark ish the water of Filgaia. Each one, all of their domain, on their own..."
A far, far greater scope than anything he had to do, where he just watched over a small patch of land on Meribus. The frog jumps onto his lap. He lets it rest there.
"Whatever ya believe, whatever ya do... sho long ash yer willin' ta help keep Filgaia alive from what ailsh it, they'll lend ya what they can to that end... but at the shame time, they can only do sho much. In the end... a lot of it'sh in the handsh of the mortalsh ta make ushe of it."
Lanval's eyes open again, to that brilliant aquamarine flash, if not all the way just yet. The smile - still stupid, as always - goes to meet Talise's gaze.
"I ain't hearin' from Schturdark right now... but I don't think they'd dishagree with my choice. No matter where ya go, ya do yer level besht fer everyone around ya. Didn't matter which world, or ultimately who... I mean, we get inta shome rough placesh shometimesh, shure~"
Fox Company does get up to occasional legal mischief, because that's just part and parcel with the sort of life they lead together.
"Even if ya ain't part of the Shaman faith proper... 'n I'm not shayin' ya hafta be, there'sh verrrrry few people I'd trusht more ta ushe a piece of the very water of Filgaia reshponshibly. Shooo..."
The frog's on top of his head now. Maybe he just finds the level of ambient Resonance in Spira so novel that he's okay with letting a wild beast play with him, unaware of the momentous occasion it will be witness to.
"If yer up for it, I got a li'l bit of a ceremony we got ta go through," he brings a hand up to his chin as the smile softens, "...I'll admit I'm kinda makin' it up ash we go, 'caushe it'd be my firsht... but if yer up fer it..."
He takes the gourd in both hands and has himself a drink. A drink more voluminous than its contents can suggest. Not one drop escapes down the side of his lips, closing his eyes...
And reopening them anew, in full, as his aura projects all the splendor of water in all its forms. (The frog ribbits as if in confusion but does not give up its perch.)
"If thou art in agreement... I bid thee, state thy name, thy deeds in service of Filgaia, and present unto me thy means in which thou shalt take up arms for its sake."
The water level in front of Lanval seems to recede some, to allow a place for a sword - or any other weapon Talise might want to use specifically for the act of Purification - to be placed before him.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
"Whatever Althena's done recently, I'm technically a child of a traitor too," Talise points out with a little frown, sliding a gauntlet off to slide one hand through her hair. Bleached locks spill between her fingers as she breathes a small sigh.
But there's little else that comes out just yet; Lanval has some things to explain, and Talise isn't about to cut him off. He is, after all, the first wave of something completely new and fairly remarkable. For a moment, she pushes her tongue into the pocket of her cheek, mulling things over internally and grappling with a couple of theological questions outside the normal grounds on which she normally grapples with them: Storytelling.
She exhales with a soft rush. "...I can't worship the Guardians, but I will help the Blue Star," she says as she rubs the back of her neck, smiling ruefully. "So I hope they don't mind getting a bit of help from someone who's going to treat them with a significant dose of skepticism."
Talise hasn't had many firsthand run-ins with the Guardians. The first time, she cussed them out for hurting Zed.
"But I suppose if it'll help Filgaia, then so be it."
Lanval opens his eyes, and all of a sudden, the gravity of things increases significantly. Talise inhales, pursing her lips firmly for a moment.
It's hard for her to be formal; it's one of those things that's just incongruent with her upbringing. She braces herself for a couple of seconds before reaching back and drawing Rastaban.
The huge swordswoman sets the point against the wet turf and clasps her hands on the pommel. "I'm Talise Gianfair of Lunar and I once stabbed the Trial Knight pretty hard," she says.
"Uh. And I've gone up against the Metal Demons - Siegfried and some of the others. Tried to stop them. Tried to do what I can do rein in the Malevolence that's made it way to Filgaia. I'm not a Dragonmaster or anything, but I've tried to help. The Blue Star's where our ancestors came from. I owe it that much."
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
"Talise Gianfair of Lunar... she who once opposed the Adversary of Man, who doth stand before the hordes of the World Eater Mother, who would brave the Malevolence that would infect Filgaia." Lanval focuses on her feats as he speaks, repeating them as though they are worthy of reverence and respect. Not as 'tried, but failed,' but 'accomplished.' For any one of these feats that she could perform, and still yet walk this or any other star, is one worthy of recognition. "She who doth pledge to ease the burdens of the water of Filgaia, Schturdark..."
Lanval leans forward, presenting his drinking gourd. It's a humble thing to look at, well-worn from many years of use in slaking his thirst or otherwise getting water everywhere. He eases it towards her, to invite her to release her hands from the pommel - there will be no worries for Rastaban's stability - and take it in hand.
"...I invite thee to take grasp of the water of Filgaia itself. She who would aspire to the title of Seer of Water doth require they can carry its burden. Talise Gianfair... raise this water to thy lips."
In spatial terms, looking from the outside in, the drinking gourd could fit easily into her large hands. She will find that this is true - but that it carries a substantial weight heavier than anything she's lifted before. It could be a representation of something that simply cannot fit in two mortal hands in whole - but through will, she can lift it. It will tax for every inch she does so, as there is an encroaching feeling of an even greater burden accumulating as it rises.
She is more than up to this, no matter how great a struggle it may yet appear.
"As soon as thou bring the water to thy lips, 'tis proof you may grasp the burden. A Seer doth grasp... but she also must hold this grasp. This grasp must withstand times of mirth, times of misery, times of trial, times of rest... the Seer shalt sip of this water, but a sip..." Lanval rests his hands on his lap. His smile doesn't fade, the shine of his eyes ever more brilliant even as the frog hops back down to one of his hands.
Why only a sip... will become obvious soon.
"Every drop must be held by the Seer within thy sip of the water. Thou shalt experience every joy and every sorrow the water doth live. To spill from thy mouth is to reject the water at its most wounded. To consume is to take for granted the wter at its most bountiful. Talise Gianfair... I ask of thee, carry both, for the burden shalt encompass this water at its best, and its worst."
Even in just a sip, it may feel like she's put an entire ocean's worth of water in her mouth. The water at its finest... the sweetest syrups, the heartiest ale, the freshest tea, the cleanest spring water. The water at its worst... this bears no need for elaboration. She experiences all of it. She must keep every drop where it is - none swallowed, none removed. Seconds will pass like minutes, if not longer.
This, too, is a task she can withstand, as Lanval watches intently. A sense of the world around them begins to fade. There was a frog. There was the scent of turf, the sounds of young children begging for a storyteller, of carpenters picking up and moving about supplies in which to once again rebuild housing. They all begin to fade away.
It feels that all there is left is water.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
This got formal all of a sudden. It's thrown Talise off. She can't help but wonder what the hell she's signing up for.
The other part of her winces a little when Lanval says 'Adversary of Man.'
Come on, Trial Knight. At least come up with a better nickname for yourself.
But she's committed now. Sliding her hands off the hilt of her sword, Talise lets Rastaban stand on its point. It doesn't so much as wobble.
When Lanval hands her the gourd, Talise picks it up - and her shoulders and arms immediately tense at the weight of it. Her back braces and her feet shift against the soil as she bows forward a little. "Althena's hat," she curses without realizing it, fighting to lift the gourd.
It feels like she's trying to lift a house in the palms of her hands. Without her gauntlets, she somehow still manages. Her muscles bunch with the effort of it. Forcing a breath through her teeth, she manages to hoist the tiny but weighty gourd to her lips, Lanval talking all the while.
"Ghh," is all she can manage before tilting the gourd and managing to take a little sip.
It's like someone poured the sea into her mouth. She has to catch herself to keep from choking. Sealing her lips closed, she shuts her eyes and tilts her head back, her cheeks puffing up slightly as she fights to keep from swallowing it. She can smell fresh turf, hear giggling kids, feel the sensation of someone hammering wood.
And then it all passes, and she's left with a mouthful of water. Blinking with surprise, she gives Lanval a quizzical look, silently asking if she can swallow now.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
It feels like it could suffocate at any moment. Lanval spends an indeterminate amount of time quietly watching her take hold of the water. Not a single drop escapes her. The temptation to take for granted the way water is shaped into desirable luxuries... the instinct to reject the ways water can be fouled. Talise holds strong against both.
"Water shalt be the foundation in which all living things flourish," which is a nice statement but isn't akin to 'okay yeah you can be rid of it now,' but that he speaks at all must mean that her trial at that step is almost over. "Talise Gianfair... she who hath proven capable of taking hold of the burden, and keeping said hold, I bid thee, allow thy water to join what surrounds thee."
Beat. A small mirthful chuckle, which is less funny because he didn't yet say what to do with it.
"Ah... mine error for lack of clarity, thou must now spill it from thy mouth. 'Tis mine first ceremony... ha ha ha!" She is free to spit it now - is it rejection he asks for? No - her own saliva, having intermingled with this sip of water, is unto itself a form of bond she has made with this piece of the water of Filgaia. When she does...
She finds she is sorrunded by water, on all sides. Above, below. It's not submerged, in the traditional sense. Bodies of liquid water like a lake may surround her, but she can hear the roar of a waterfall in the distance. The drizzle of a fresh rain above. The currents of a river nearby.
Somehow, the two of them have been displaced - a sense that this has ceased to be a thing of the physical, something... more. Before her, Lanval floats about the water.
...Where's Rastaban?
"Talise Gianfair... thou shalt not be afraid of what thy shalt see now." Easy for him to say, he's not in any fear of drowning!! ...But neither is she. This is a place, if it even is a 'place,' that transcends the need to breathe. Just her, him, and the water all around.
"'Tis much for one. Thou hath shown themselves worthy of sharing the burden. Thou hath awakened to the vast potential of water, for purposes great, and purposes ill - and shown due respect for both." Where's Rastaban, though?
"'Tis the final task I would ask of one who hath proven worthy of the title of Seer of Water... find thy arms thou hath pledged in defense of the water of Filgaia! She who doth bear the intent in which she bears and endures the burden shalt not be overcome by the totality of what she doth vow to protect." This sounds vague, for he has not spoken a direction to look. He has not said whether to dive low, to face the rain, to go down the waterfall, or to be swept up in the rapids. He does not need to tell her.
She will know where to look for Rastaban, to once more take it. When she finds it, there is nothing that will move to take it away from her. It will be there for her to take in hand.
How long that takes is up to her.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
Talise's cheeks puff out like she's a squirrel holding a nut. (A squirrel Vegeta...?)
She doesn't swallow, though. Lanval clarifies what she has to do, and she widens her eyes as if to somehow articulate an 'ohhhh' without words. Then she pitches forward and spits the water out into a puddle at her feet, mingled with her own saliva at this point.
It's more than a mouthful. The waters swell to surround her in sensation. She can feel the patter of rain against her face and shoulders; the sound of a waterfall. The rush of an ocean. Closing her eyes for a moment, the swordswoman floats in it, resisting the urge to inhale at first - and then she tries, and she realizes she doesn't have to.
Her sword's gone. But then, aren't they both gone? She brings what passes for her eyes back to the resplendent Seraph - or is he more Oracle than Seraph now?
It's a vague direction, but she doesn't need much more direction than that. There's a pull of something. "Very well," she says, her voice low - or is a voice, or just a sentiment given form? There's more conviction to it than before. Pushing past the roughness of her upbringing, what's left is a heart.
She doesn't linger. Lunging immaterially through the ether, Talise knifes towards the ocean far below. The rain dapples the surface of the water, enormous waves surging to meet her.
Talise plunges into the trough of a wave. It crashes down, but she keeps on going, plunging into the depths of an ocean that seems like it goes down for countless miles - deeper than any sea on Lunar ever could. But then, the Blue Star is a larger world - a deeper world. She can feel things brushing by her. The iridescence of fish. Vast forms - cetaceans, perhaps, or sharks, or sea beasts. She can feel herself kicking downwards, past the jutting shapes of rocks. The water pressure should crush her and she should need to breathe.
She's beyond breath. Into a deep ocean trench she plunges, swimming pasts stands of odd-looking corals, past a few bobbing eyeless fish, into the darkest depths of this place.
Towards a skeletal shape laid out on the bed of that ocean. The ribs of a familiar vessel. For the first time, Talise hesitates.
And yet you couldn't protect them, could you?
Steeling herself, fighting past the sudden grip around her heart, Talise dives into the shadowy wreckage, towards the glint of light in the sea floor in the midst of it all. She reaches out, curling her grip around the hilt of Rastaban. Her eyes are wet, but not from ocean water, as she draws it slowly from the hands of the seven-foot-tall skeleton laid out on the ocean bed at the heart of the ship's ruins, claiming it once again.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
The dive is truly deep. It seems like it takes so long... but the very moment a hesitation appears, the Oracle of Schturdrk is not far behind Talise. If she allows him, he lays a hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her. If she looks to him, his smile hasn't faded. The shining aquamarine of his eyes doesn't falter. In this, he understands there is a risk inherent in showing this initimate level of trust to those mortals native to Lunar.
They do naturally generate Malevolence, if in the most trace of amounts. Lanval doesn't voice this aloud. He does not take this time to chide Talise for allowing such a doubt to form.
He knows she's more than strong enough to rise above it all. She is a worthy champion to wield Rastaban, just as she is worthy to be in consideration of channeling a piece of Schturdark's power through this Oracle.
Her close friend, Lanval the Mirthful Wellspring.
When he retrieves the blade, she'll feel a sense of surfacing, of ascending through all the water. Lanval is right by her every step of the way, until they face out into the colors of a beautiful sunrise that peeks through the rainclouds...
...
...
...
They are exactly where they were before, like they never moved, with one key difference.
Talise will have one hand on the pommel of Rastaban. The other hand, on the gourd.
Lanval, too, is the same way. One hand on that heavy gourd. One hand on Rastaban's pommel. That gourd is difficult for them to lift in both hands, individually. Together, with just one hand on each...
There remains a weight to it, but it is shared between them. Sight, sound, scent, touch, and (after)taste return before coherent thought does. Talise's body is no more damp than when she first took that drink - like she wasn't submerged in the ocean at all.
"Talise Gianfair... thou hath spoken the vow by deed, and it is thus acknowledged," says the Oracle of Schturdark as he draws a hand away from Rastaban to go to his drinking gourd, to allow Talise to do the same with Rastaban.
"Thou art now the first Seer of Water. I grant thee the blessing of Schturdark, as thou now grant thy own strength. The burden thus shared, through thy will shalt the water of Filgaia bring succor to the lands and the people under sway of Malevolence for as long as thou observe respect of the water." Lanval says as his eyes slowly close, moving to bring his drinking gourd back on his lap.
"May she thus see those shared burdens eased as a friend to the water... and ta li'l ol' me, too..."
As Lanval says this, Rastaban will flash briefly with the power of water coursing through it - through Talise herself, too, as she will feel a refreshing, cleansing feeling as the sunrise greets the both of them.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
If you believe Seraph Ragnell, Talise is the sort of person who should've become a Hellion a long time ago. She's carried a lot of baggage. Unmet expectations; hurt feelings; wounded faith.
She's managed to carry them all without succumbing. When Lanval comes floating down next to her, she glances back at him - and that brief flicker of sensation is gone, replaced with a rough but genuine smile. This is just who she is. There is no way to dive into her psyche and not find these things, no matter how much mirth might dwell there.
She grips the sword anyway. It's what Lady Chloe would do. What Dyne would do. What Louie would do.
The sun begins to rise.
Talise's eyes open. It's like she never moved. Staring down at the gourd, Talise blinks as if to try and clear something from her eyes.
Before she can say anything, Lanval's finishing his benediction. She surrenders the gourd back to him and slides her hands back onto Rastaban, drawing the point from the ground - and as he finishes, that flash of teal and white dances along the ancient blade. A weapon 4,500 years old gains something it did not have before today.
"It's kind of funny," she says. "The one who wielded this sword came from the first generation of people on Lunar. People who went with Althena, the goddess the Guardians think of as a traitor. And now here I am helping the Guardians kick Malevolence off Filgaia. It's almost like things have come full circle. Maybe one day we can even reconcile the two stars. But one thing at a time."
The smile Talise flashes Lanval is rough, but assured and confident. "...You know, you've got a pretty damn kind heart inside you. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.
"...Thank you for putting your faith in me," she adds more quietly.
<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.
"Ash we've sheen, a threat ta Filgaia can come from anywhere... 'n hey, Lunar ish in the domain of Celesdue, Guardian of the Moon," Lanval says, as what was once a formal benediction quickly seems to turn into friendly small talk between friends, "it'sh pretty clear both worldsh got a looooot in common... mmm."
The frog hops off of Lanval's shoulder, which it has politely stayed upon instead of trying to hop between their hands in which to ruin the moment. This has successfully avoided the awkward instance in which a mere unintelligent frog might have technically been ascended to Seerhood.
As Talise vouches for Lanval's kind heart, he has a good, mirthful-- pardon.
He has a good, mirthful laugh.
"Ahhh... I dunno if I'd shay I'm that kind, what with what I had ya drink fer a bit there... shooooooo 'm thinkin'," he says as he starts to rise from the small body of water that he let his manifestation of a body rest in for a while this dawn, "how 'bout we go wash that down with shome of the local drink? I mean, hey... it'sh more than puttin' faith in ash good a pershon I can ashk for, 'caushe... hey... it'sh in my nature ta drink away yer worriesh, too."
It's also in his nature to drink away your drink, but, semantics.
As he rises to his feet, which is always something of an experience to watch because he so very rarely manages to stay steady on it...
"Sho, ya wanna walk back together?" He asks of her. Back then, he was notorious for being lazy and often having someone carry his bottle for him in more dangerous places. Even as he's stopped being such a baby about it, usually, he maintains some kind of physical distance. Mortals and Seraphim typically have a few challenges in living alongside one another. Certain factors, well-discussed, often make the prospect very dangerous for the Seraphim in question. For the mortal in lands where Resonance is scarce, there comes social ostracizing from being seen interacting with something they can't see is there.
Here, where almost everyone can see Lanval, the Malevolence seems to be suppressed or at least kept from accumulating too much by the ambient pyreflies, and in the company of a dear friend...
He'd be fine with walking hand-in-hand.
...For a given value of 'walking' as it pertains to him.
<Pose Tracker> Talise Gianfair has posed.
"Yeah. Things have crossed over too much," Talise concedes with a grimace. "I always used to feel helpless because there was nothing I could really do to stop Malevolence from spreading on Filgaia. I felt like we brought something with us that made us poisonous. But now there's something we can do about it."
With a firm nod, Talise slides Rastaban back into its sheath. It slips home with little fuss or muss, seemingly content to hide its additional gift for now.
As Lanval rises, Talise falls in beside him and smiles easily, giving him a firm nod. "Yeah. No reason not to raise a toast, right?"
With Talise that usually involves several toasts, to be fair. But she chuckles nevertheless, pushing her hand through her hair. "Honestly? I think I've got a few less worries today than I did last week, so you're already off to a good start."
They head back. Talise does not have her gauntlets on. Along the way, she takes Lanval by the hand and gives a squeeze. Talise's grip can normally dent things that should not be dented.
This one is nothing like that. It's gentle.