Berra — Dressing Down
????, Earth Season, Fertility Week
Context
Earth Season, Fertility Week, Clayday dusk. Imarja’s Day is a day for the giving of gifts and celebration of family, in Esrolia. [[[s02:session-7|Session 7]]]
Followed by [[[xenofos:address-unknown|Address Unknown]]] – Xenofos’ thread
Events
Clayday, dusk. There is gift-giving. Berra handed Varanis a small package on the way home from the Temple, after checking if she was allowed to accept gifts that week.
Varanis accepts it with delight. “Thank you! I have a gift for you back at the palazzo.”
Berra bounces a little. “I’ll probably open it while… wait, family night tonight, isn’t it? So no going out?”
“No going out.” There is immense relief in those words.
The journey back is uneventful. The Humakti leaves Varanis to get ready, and goes to meditate, and so it is that Marta mentions, offhand as she looks her silk-clad charge up and down, that Berra has a package in her room. “And she’s just outside, and hasn’t fetched it. I think she doesn’t know our customs.” Not so offhand, then. A dig, or an instruction.
Varanis asks, “Has anyone actually told her it’s there?”
“Oh yes, of course,” Marta says. “I should have gilded your temples. Too late now, alas. Treeniea let her know, and then a little later she came back, and reminded her. I heard.”
“I’ll speak to her about it then.” Varanis looks at herself in the polished bronze mirror. “Done?”
“Oh, and before I go for the evening, I have something for you.” Varanis gives Marta a little bronze bracelet and a package of fresh fruits. “The bracelet is for you, while the fruit is for you to share as you choose. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
Marta bobs a little curtesy and gives a smile. “You have lovely skin,” she says. “Go show it off.” Her smile at the bracelet is a genuinely pleased one.
Outside the room, beside the door, Berra is meditating.
“Berra,” Varanis says softly. “May I interrupt you?”
Berra opens her eyes, black irised, and then blinks and smiles. “Hello.” Brown-eyed again.
“There’s a package for you. In your room.”
“I know. It’s the dress.” Berra keeps looking up, patiently. “What can I do for you.”
“Which dress? Oh! The one made by Karne?”
“I think so. I was told it was there, and about that size, and had material in it. I could be wrong.” She smiles. “What did you want?”
“Oh that’s perfect then. You can wear it and come with me to the parties! Then I have my guard without offending my hosts.” Varanis looks pleased. “They can’t say no if you come as my guest.”
“No. I won’t need it until Fireday, and then I won’t have it any more.” Berra looks down, although she does not position her hands for meditation again.
“Have you even tried it on?” Varanis asks with curiosity.
“I haven’t even looked at it,” Berra replies, with mild astonishment. “I was not planning to.”
“I mean, not until I have to.” She is Berra. The extra information gets tacked onto the end lest the truth be incomplete.
“Why not?” The Vingan sounds completely baffled.
“I’m not going to wear it.” She shrugs. “Why look?”
“I don’t understand. I really don’t. Why are you afraid of a dress? It won’t make you any less of a Humakti.”
“I’m not afraid of it. I have spent a bit of time trying not to care about it, though. But caring WOULD make me … not less of a Humakti, but a less good one. Did you meditate on Separation today?” Berra’s shoulders relax, and she leans back against the wall to make looking upwards easier.
“Yes. And Truth, and Death.”
“Death is Separation. The Sword is an eternal cut. If you can’t understand why I don’t want such things, I can’t explain better than that. But I don’t hate it or fear it. I’ve just got a use for it that is not wearing it.”
“I still think you imbue it with too much power. It is no different than fine armour or a well-made shield. It serves a purpose. It has a place and time to be used. But in the end, the decision is yours and if you wish to discard it, then I will argue no more.”
Berra nods. “Enjoy yourself,” she says. “And if you see Yamia, I have a thing for her too. But I’ll probably go past her room later.”
“Do you know who sent you the dress?” Varanis asks.
Berra shakes her head. “No, but please tell them thank you and don’t do that. I should be polite.”
“Do it yourself, Berra,” Varanis says, suddenly irritated. “Go talk to Xenofos.” She strides away.
After a little while, Berra gets up, peacefully, and goes to do just that.
Followed by [[[xenofos:address-unknown|Address Unknown]]] – Xenofos’ thread
