Spica

▸ Gender: Female ▸ Orientation: Heterosexual ▸ Homeland: Windswept Plateau

_______ Windsinger Painted Vase Trinkets A delicate vase, painted to depict the Windsinger. The brushstrokes appear to wriggle and dance across its surface, as if they yearn to peel off and fly away. 105

▸ Birthplace: Cloudsong ▸ Element: Wind ▸ Profession: Abbess / Healer

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Spica has seen enough of the world -past, present, and future- to know that interfering with the reality outside of her monastery is useless. As wind and lightning go hand in hand through the skies, however, she and Procyon also share that sort of close bond. Patient yet aloof, she has served as a healer for most of her lifetime. As legendary as her skills would have been had she made herself more known to the world, her seclusion ended only when Procyon found himself involved with a very danger-prone clan.

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-tba-

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To the spiral Veles and pearlcatcher Selene of clan Amarayne...

The writing is thin but elegant, with slight flourishes at the end of every word, and the letter shimmers a faint blue-violet, beckoning for closer inspection. Something seems to dance right at the corner of the eye. Unexpectedly, there is nothing there. Holding the paper closer to the light, it becomes obvious what the issue is. Materials from the Starwood Strand often act in this way, it is said.

But the Arcane-crafted sheet is scented with a harmony of different fragrances. The smell of freshly turned soil lurks under the patter of a summer thunderstorm, both drawn out by a fresh strand of pure air. The perfume embraces a wide, open sky to stroke the stars hidden far above. Something is familiar here. The writing and the voice are not.

It starts haltingly. A bit of scanning reveals that the letter is quite long. This might take a while...

I am called Spica now. My clanmates have a strange tradition of naming all members after stars. It is the nature of the Arcane Flight, they say. I have no particular feelings either way.

Perhaps you would be interested in knowing what I have done since I left you. It is nothing of great importance. I served at a monastery dedicated to the Windsinger for quite some time. The quiet was appreciated, the monotony not so much. I left, eventually, to travel the world. Is that not what even the Windsinger has done?

I admit it was because of our ancestry that I decided to roam the Shifting Expanse after my departure. Somewhat foolishly, however, I strayed away from the Highland Scrub and deeper into the territory. At times I do find it difficult to restrain my curiosity. It is a great embarrassment of mine.

In any case, Carrion Canyon is aptly named and upon discovering that, I quickly made up my mind to retreat. As I was doing so, however, a rather angry-looking imperial had made the (immensely unwise and suicidal, at least in my mind during the time) decision to actually rush straight into an escalating region of the Expanse's eternal storm. Thus, I was obliged to follow and assure that nobody would have to see a thoroughly fried idiot added to the canyon's collection of corpses.

Naturally, I had not needed to trouble myself. I was not aware that one could acquire an immunity against lightning bolts, nor did I ever think that angrily ranting at the heavens that I would soon throw somebody "off of a mountain for the crime of incompetence" was a valid mode of prayer. I do not know how it happened but I believe that he and I are now friends. It is very disturbing. His name is Procyon and he is a monk in service of the Stormcatcher.

He is. Very enthusiastic about his work. He is also surprisingly good at disappearing whenever somebody has averted their eyes from him. It is very distressing. Considering how many negative adjectives I have used in referring to him, I am honestly reevaluating my priorities.

Unfortunately, because of Procyon, I am quite settled into some nameless clan on the Starfall Isles at the moment, though I hear plans of eventually moving to Dragonhome. Permanently. I suppose that I am a little pleased that I will be able to visit the lairs of my father's ancestors.

I have had several children of my own and given each the chance to forge their own futures when they came of age. They are all gone now, to different lairs or to serve the gods even more closely than I. Doubtless, we will meet again. Although, that will be far, far later if Procyon continues sulk around in the background and keep threatening their sires.

There is little else of value I can offer you at this time. Sometimes I accompany two other spirals by the name of Meissa and Arcturus who are the clan's most elite fighters. Often times, however, Meissa will go out on her own with a pair of nervous new clanmates, only to emerge weeks later with a disheveled but decently trained couple of warriors. When that happens, Arcturus will whine about boredom and runs through mountains of serthis and too many fish for his liking. I am not called on overly often for fieldwork, for which I am grateful. The clan has a fairly high birthrate and midwives and nest-tenders are necessary. My company on those tasks usually consist of the spiral Vega (a priestess of the Icewarden) and the imperial Porrima (a young and seemingly fragile female of the Light Flight). It is not altogether awful.

In addition, I have just remembered that I am actually displeased with Porrima for the time. She has accused me of speaking too "strangely," by which I inferred she meant that I am being overtly formal with her. It is nonsense, of course. I act like this towards everybody I know. She is also under the impression that I lack the skills necessary to "make it in society" and has enlisted the help of her guardian (an Imperial sage by the name of Achernar) and her adopted brother (an awkward Imperial by the name of Pollux) to try and coerce me into attending her juvenile lessons about how to get along with others.

My social skills are adequate and I had most definitely been planning to open communications with you all along. Between Procyon and the never-ending nests of eggs, however, time has really been scarce.

In any case, if you do not wish to reply or if you simply do not remember me, you need not trouble yourself. However, on the chance that you would like to write back, please do not address the letter directly to me. Porrima will certainly take hold of it should you do so. Instead, I would recommend addressing it to Aldebaran (the clan head, a ridgeback) or Antares (her mate, a skydancer).

Please stay well. I have enclosed some fresh food and some items that you may find amusing.

-Spica



The letter that comes back is very different from the one sent off. For one, the parchment smells slightly acrid and smoky. For another thing, it is tied shut and instead of being sealed with the wax seal of a clan, bears a carved amulet of the clan's seal out of streaked jasper. On the back of this pendant the names Aldebaran and Antares are carved, but once given to the true recipient the names vanish and are replaced with the image of a curled spiral devouring its own tail surrounding the name Spica.

Upon unfurling the rolled-up parchment the letters seem oddly even and regular, as though not done by claw. The few details that were scrawled in by a quill are a pair of quick sketches of a pearlcatcher and a spiral, as well as a pair of signatures, one done in the playful style of the drawings and the other in a more reserved, careful hand. It seems Spica takes more after her father...


Dear Spica,

We were so excited to get your letter! We would have responded sooner but there were some...disagreements on how to address you. Your father wanted to send you stone tablets for Stormcatcher's sake, but I finally convinced him to go a more practical route. He would have broken our poor courier's back, which is kind of ironic given how fond your father is of the fellow.

Anyway, you may have noticed the writing seems a bit odd. I'm using something of my own design, a machine that allows you to press buttons in sequence which writes the words for you without constantly dipping a quill in your inkwell! Much cleaner, much quicker, much less chance for it to spill all over your blueprints which you worked all day on.... Heh, well it's a work in progress. It tends to jam up sometimes and get stttttttttttttuck on certain keys. We're working on it. Your father says it's impersonal, but after seeing the beautiful inkwork in your letter I just had to show off this new invention!

The clan does well, we seem to be returning to a new normal after some turbulent times. We have found a secluded ruin in the Light flight that we plan to seek shelter in, as our airborne lair is not a safe enough place to raise our hatchlings and defend our clan. I am both nervous and excited about the move, something I think your father and I actually agree on. I have not yet seen the place, but Lady Heulwen, our leader, says it is as beautiful as it is secure. I don't know if you remember her, or anybody, but her father was the gardener, Teitr, whom your father would often do business with. Teitr's garden is now full of your father's sculptures. He even carved that little stone we used to address this letter to you, but the charm was neither of our works. That would be the talent of the imperial witch Irine, who excels at such things.

I hope your move goes as smoothly as ours, provided ours goes smoothly, of course. Veles tells me that the Dragonhome is harsh, dry, and unforgiving, but that it is also beautiful and deceptively lively. All I know is that it's far to the north and very rocky. Still, I know from experience that even the arid places can be homey, and if anyone could thrive there it's certainly you.

The duty of bringing life to the world is a daunting one. Our clan has a very natural approach to the thing and so usually dams deliver alone or with the help of their partners, but we have no midwives, only healers if things go wrong, and the parents are usually in charge of their nests though we do have the hatchling minders who are all too happy to step in if needed. Still, I have heard of them and find the practice fascinating. The fighting, however, is all too familiar to me, in fact your father's hero is one of our best warriors. You may remember Chyst, both courier, battle mage, and absolute scoundrel with the silver tongue. I do hope he behaved himself and didn't make a pass at you, but he does love beautiful dragonesses...

...At any rate, know that there are many types of personality out there, and many ways a dragon can express themselves. There is no "right" way to do it, though there are plenty of wrong ways, and one of the worst ways is to get all huffy about how others present themselves. You can tell Porrima I said that, and that I say you're perfect and nothing is wrong with you! I mean, I did drop one of the eggs in your clutch once, but there's a 33.3% chance it was yours, and even if it was I doubt that would have caused any long-standing issues!

Where was I again? I'm sorry if I jump around, but you already know how fast I switch gears. It drives Veles crazy, which is partially why we aren't full-time mates. The other part being that I'm pretty involved with the guard Maldred. I always wondered if you found it weird that mom was making goo-goo eyes at someone who was decidedly not daddy, but you all didn't seem to mind and we tend to hook up for curiosity's sake in Amarayne. We do a lot of things for curiosity's sake around here, so if you ever wondered why you were so driven by it, now you know.

Veles says I'm being too informal. I'm sorry if I'm being too familiar, I'm running on two hours of sleep and a lot of sugary prickleaf right now and I'm never one to be all stuffy and reserved; that was more your dad's bag. THAT'S JUST HOW I EXPRESS MYSELF AND THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT! Whoops, that looks like yelling. I better remember that for next time.

I would go on and on, but both your father and I have work to do and I think Lithium will kill me if I use up too much of the ink tape this device uses. I may have made it, but it's not strictly mine given the fact that the science department's grants paid for all the parts. Just know that we are both very proud of you and all you've accomplished. We're humbled that you remembered us and took the time to tell us about your life and we hope you go on to even more and grander things. You're perfect and we love you, just the way you are. And yes, even though he didn't speak directly, your father is here with me as I write and he agrees with me. Should you ever venture nearby, feel free to pay us a visit, you are always welcome here.

Your loving, proud parents,
Veles and Selene.

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