1627, Fire Season, Fertility Week, Clayday Eve
Varanis and Berra settle down to drinking at Nochet’s primary Temple of Uleria. Xenofos is there for moral support. The binge drinking session begins in Drinking Party (Part I).
Part 5/11: Berra’s turn to sing
Berra sits up, and says, “Well, don’t say I haven’t warned you. I can’t sing, but it’s my turn. You’re allowed to hide.”
Davorelia has quite nice dimples. “For a shared communion, all should participate…”
Berra’s song is a simple farming song, and while she cannot quite hit all the notes, it is plain she is trying. It’s about planting in a wind-torn world, and how the wind turns to rain and makes things grow. It’s not terrible, but she’s right, she’s not good at singing.1That would have been a fumble, but for the inspiration with Harmony.
“It was a nice attempt,” she says, brushing her brow.
Berra laughs. “Truth is good,” she says.
“Here, have a bowl,” she says offering Berra a mixer.
Varanis laughs too. “The song had a story in it,” she offers. “Do you suppose we might have some fruit? Dried is fine, if fresh is unavailable. But I have a desire for something sweet.”
“You know who we should have brought?” Berra asks Varanis. “Venlar! Venlar should be here, to show how Sartarites can sing when they do it well.”
“It is plum time.” Davorelia claps her hands, “And melons are ripe.
“We could send word back to the House. But I suspect that Mellia has him occupied already,” Varanis tells Berra with an exaggerated lascivious wink.
“Might be he wants a rest, and the Temple of Uleria would be just the place. If he did.” Berra sips at her wine, blushing only as much as the drink has made happen already.
Varanis waves absently. “Let’s send word then. Did I tell either of you that I have asked him to be an advisor to me? He hasn’t responded yet, mind you.” The Vingan suddenly sits upright on her couch. “Where were you two last night? I went to Norinel on my own and it was awful.” She looks at her empty cup and reaches for the wine again. It is empty too and she looks disgruntled.
“Uh… no?” Berra thinks, around the wine. “Uh, locked out of the main city? I’m staying with my cousins right now.” For once, the changes of subject have her being the confused one.
Davorelia fills her cup and looks at her, “For peace or for anger, Vareena?”
The Vingan peers back at the Ulerian. “What do you mean?”
“Have wine, Vareena,” she says. “If you want to be glad. If you want to argue. Hmmm. Think if you want to argue. If you want to. Argue. And then drink.”
“I don’t want to argue. I just… oh, I don’t know what I want. To forget maybe. Just for a few hours. To not be me.”
The courtesan looks at Varanis. Unrelenting.