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Eta - About my Pala!

Not much is known about Sadah's Pala, as he hasn't yet hatched! What we CAN tell you is that it is a male. He was won in a writing contest during the Mana Spirits event. He is one of four elemental Pala, fire in his case. He will probably be an Espaern (but that remains to be seen xd ) Sadah hasn't even picked a name for him yet! (Bad, bad Sadah. rofl )

More coming soon...!

Kek - Pictures!


The Pala lamp!


... With a cert! xd


Sadah! Beautifulgorgeousamazing art by keiiii.


Loki and Perrin, zomgwhoaf@#*!ckinghellawesome art by tabberung.



Mnemosyne in choli-and-dupatta, and in sari. Infriggincredible art by Konstantinos_Kapranos.

Iba - Gifts and Random Things!

Zik - Just in case!

Sen - Just in case!

[NOTE! This was my entry for the writing contest in the ManaSpirits event, in which I placed second and won my byootiful lampu. Seseju the Pala does not exist, unfortunately, but editing him out of this story would take extensive rewriting... and honestly, I like the story the way it is. So: 'An Even Trade', in which Sadah comes across the ElderSpark shop and its inhabitants. Lalaia'il was used with permission from Vashtya and Imriel de Corvidae with permission from the shopkeepers.]

Sadah had been walking in the forest for what seemed to her like an eternity. Surely she must be near Mnemosyne’s place now? But her pet crows, Loki and Perrin, were both on errands at the moment, and without them Sadah had no real idea of where she was, only that she must continue walking east. So walk east she did, trying to gauge how much time she had before sunset by the scant amount of sunlight filtering through the thick canopy of trees.

Sadah readjusted her pack, trying to shift the strap so that it stopped chafing her shoulder. She had perhaps been foolish to pack so many things for so long a journey on foot, but then again what else could she have done? Danior, her half-brother, had taken control of the gypsy caravan in the absence of Brishen, her promised and the caravan’s true leader. When Sadah had refused Danior’s offer of marriage, he had outcast her from the caravan and threatened to execute her on the spot. Sadah had had no choice but to hurriedly pack all her belongings and some food, and run away. She couldn’t even steal a horse, for the caravan’s hunting dogs would have easily tracked the beast; Sadah had managed to avoid the same fate only by walking in streams and rivers until Danior abandoned the chase. Probably to hunt down and kill Brishen instead, she thought bitterly.

The young woman blinked away tears, unwilling to admit to herself that her beloved Brishen was probably even now already dead at the hands of her half-brother. She had to will herself to stop picturing Brishen’s beautiful blue eyes forever glazed in death, Danior’s triumphant face the last thing he would see… Sadah shook herself, hard, and quickened her pace, going as fast as her many long skirts and heavy petticoats would allow her to walk on the overgrown path. The faster she reached Mnemosyne’s house, the better; her friend would be able to help her, she tried to reassure herself… only partly succeeding.

Hours later, the gypsy was still walking, her aching feet feeling every pebble on the path through her thin moccasins, and the sunlight was all but gone. Sadah could barely see her own hands in the darkness, and she was starting to shiver even through the oversized woolen poncho she had ‘borrowed’ from Brishen, before he’d left the caravan. She resettled her brown headscarf over her caramel colored curls, tying it tightly so it would not fly away in the evening breeze, and hugged her arms about herself in an attempt to stave off the cold. She would have to find shelter, and soon. She couldn’t stay on the path, in case any of Danior’s men were still searching for her, but she couldn’t very well sleep in a tree, either.

Suddenly, Sadah stumbled and pitched forward, her quick dancer’s reflexes the only thing saving her from a painful fall: her foot had encountered not the dirt-and-grass path of the forest, but the edge of a paved road. She looked up above her head, and sure enough, the trees were thinning out, and she could just make out a sliver of a moon and the sparkle of the night’s first stars. She stepped onto the road, looking left and right, in search of an inn, perhaps, or a farmhouse where she might hide for the night. There! Far to her left, lights shone out of the windows of what looked like a large house. Sadah quickly set off in that direction, and after another half-hour’s walk, stood before a rather ancient-looking dwelling, perched precariously on the top of a small hill.

Sadah cautiously approached the house, listening for any of the sounds one would generally expect to come from an inn or large house, and hearing none of these. As she neared the door, she spotted a sign, shaped like an old-fashioned oil lamp, with an inscription painted on. She bent forward to see it better, straining to see in the dim light cast by the lantern affixed to the door: “ElderSpark Incense Shop”, it said. And underneath it, in a bright blue color… “Aamha! Sayebat a ElderSpark. Naante sabat…” What? That wasn’t in any language Sadah knew. She began to hesitate; should she knock? Would they turn her away? But she was still lost, and if she couldn’t stay the night, she at the very least needed directions to Barton town, where Mnemosyne lived. So she steeled herself and raised her hand, knocking briskly on the door, and waited.

After a few minutes, it became clear to Sadah that nobody was going to come to the door. She leaned over the sign to peer into one of the porch windows, curious despite all rules of politeness as to what kind of a place this was. It looked like a shop, albeit one with very little variety: it seemed every single shelf carried the same type of old-fashioned incense lamp, the only difference being the gemstones set into each one. No two lamps were the same, each one encrusted with a different kind of stone, but Sadah would have been hard-pressed to identify the gems. They looked like nothing she had ever seen. Sadah drew back and looked up at the house, only now noting a strange mist that seemed to emanate from some of the upper-story windows; was someone burning incense up there? Well, what if they were? This looked to be, after all, an incense shop, albeit a slightly eccentric one (what with the foreign-sounding language on the sign), so it should only be natural that there would be incense burning inside, right?

But if incense was burning, surely that meant someone was around. Emboldened by this thought, Sadah knocked on the door again, a little bit louder. When she still got no answer, she bit her lip, crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she always did when she was thinking. Once again readjusting the heavy pack on her hip, she decided to try the handle. After all, if it really was a shop, it might still be open; and if it were closed, surely the door would be locked.

It wasn’t. The big wooden door creaked noisily as Sadah pushed it, stepping into the light and soft warmth of the shop.

“Hello?” she called, and quickly turned around: what was that noise? She could’ve sworn she’d heard footsteps. She squinted, looking around for any sign of life, but saw nobody.

“Is anyone there?” she called again, and again she heard a scuffling noise, as of tiny, running feet. Her eyes barely caught the end of a pink blur ducking behind the shop counter as she whipped around.

What was that, she asked herself, slightly panicked now. There was obviously something else here with her; what if it was unfriendly? After only another moment’s indecision, she approached the counter, dropping her heavy pack on the floor near the counter, the wooden floorboards creaking ominously under her feet.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said softly, the lilting accent she had when speaking Common lending a soothing tone to the words, though the slight shiver in her voice suggested that wasn’t really what she was worried about. “Won’t you come out? I’m lost, and I…” the rest of the words died away, as she peered behind the oak counter and saw a two tiny beings, one pink and one white, sitting on the floor, completely surrounded in pieces of what looked like it had once been an antique rotary-dial telephone.

If they had been standing, Sadah guessed that they would reach about mid-shin on an adult human. They had ears kind of like a cat’s, and little feathery wings and tails, with similar feathers curling upwards on their heads. They had big round eyes, like great big saucers staring up at her as she gawked at them. The one on the right, who was holding what looked like the earpiece of the dismembered telephone, was a shocking shade of pink, with teal-colored feathers on wings, tail and head, matched almost perfectly with her eyes. She had a short, pink hair and paler pink swirls on her body. The other creature was stark white, from head to toe to wings to tail, and gazed at Sadah steadily with his startling red eyes, like one used to being caught doing something he shouldn’t, and equally used to weaseling his way out of it. His shock of white hair was tousled in all directions, and seemed almost to defy gravity.

Sadah, quite honestly, did not know how to react to these small creatures; for the first time in her life, she was dumbstruck, and didn’t know what to say. She, Sadah, who had defied the caravan elders and shocked all the women, by refusing to walk behind the men! She who had refused to submit to Danior’s will, who had told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of his proposal, at the risk of her own life and that of her beloved Brishen! So she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“What did you do to that telephone?”

The little creatures looked at her blankly for a minute. Then the white one stood up and staunchly declared, in a small but confident voice: “We didn’t do nothing to it!”

The pink one tittered at Sadah’s dumbfounded expression, before tugging on the white one’s hand. “Enetaza jaibu, Sese. I don’t think she mad at us,” she said, turning her face up to look at Sadah. “I discombobulated it, and I’m trying to recombobulate it now,” she told Sadah proudly, presumably talking about the telephone, though Sadah had no idea what she meant by it. “Me is Lalaia’il. He Seseju,” she said, pointing to the other creature, who was staring at her with his arms defensively crossed in front of him.

“Ah… Sadah,” the girl replied. “I’m Sadah. What…” she trailed off, unwilling to ask the creatures what they were, in case that should offend them. But Lalaia’il seemed to know what she meant all the same.

“We Palas,” she replied. “Come out of the lamps,” she declared, pointing to the surrounding shelves and nodding knowingly. “I think,” she added, as an afterthought, twirling the telephone earpiece absently in her hands.

“Out of… the lamps. Of course,” Sadah said, stupidly, trying to understand what was going on. Unnoticed by her, Seseju had crept out from the other side of the counter, and was now silently rifling through the pack Sadah had dropped earlier. He had tugged the ties apart, and was now hovering over the open satchel, pulling out various items of clothing, some food, but nothing of interest to him so far… until he found a crystal orb, perfectly round, about the size of the Pala’s own head, which seemed to contain a kind of misty smoke. Seseju hoisted it out of the bag, suppressing a grunt of effort so that Sadah wouldn’t hear him, and trotted away quietly with his prize.

Unfortunately, Sadah caught the flash of white at the corner of her eye, and turned her head in time to see the Pala running away with her crystal ball. “Hey!” she cried out, “come back with that! It’s mine!”

But Seseju was already behind the counter once more, and, concealing his loot inside a wooden drawer in the counter, he once again proclaimed his innocence. “Wasn’t me!” he called, snickering a little and muttering “yoink!” under his breath.

“It was! I saw you,” Sadah accused him.

“Nechibe?” the Pala called out cheekily, grinning at his friend.

Lalaia’il, however, did not seem amused. “Herei dalu ki ero, Sese! She want it back,” the little pink Pala said sternly, planting her little fists on her hips.

Seseju scowled. “It’s my doori now, Lala,” he said grumpily. “If she want it back, she gotta give me somefink better.”

Sadah, desperate to retrieve her crystal ball, did not even stop to wonder at the strange situation she found herself in now. Sinking to her knees, she dug through her pack until her fingers met metal: a decorative comb, which her aunt had given to her on her last birthday. Sadah hadn’t really liked it; it was too gaudy for her tastes, with huge fake rubies on the top encrusted in the silver to look like roses. But she had brought it with her anyway, thinking she might be able to barter it somewhere for a loaf of bread or two. It seemed, however, that a more pressing use had been found for it.

“I’ll trade you,” she called out to Seseju, leaning over the counter and holding out the comb.

And sure enough, Seseju soon poked up his head, impressed by the red glitter the comb was giving off. “Ooooh,” he said, reaching up and trying to grab it. But Sadah yanked it out of his reach before he could take it, tutting gently.

“Not until I have my crystal ball back,” she argued, tilting the comb so the light caught in the facets of the gemstones and glittered in a pattern on the floor, drawing a gasp of delight from the still-seated Lala.

Seseju pondered the situation for a moment, then hoisted the crystal ball back out of the drawer, rolling it along the floor back to Sadah’s pack. “Here,” he said. “Give me the comb,” he added, making grabbing motions towards the promised comb, which Sadah dutifully gave him after securing her crystal ball inside her pack once more. As soon as the comb was in his grasp, Seseju scurried back to his hideout, evidently afraid he would be denied this prize as well. He was planning on giving this to Lala, as a gift. Not while the girl was here, of course, but later, when they were alone again.

At this moment, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard, and a woman came into the shop from the back room, ducking slightly in the doorframe to avoid catching her large, black-and-blue hat on it. She had impossibly long black hair, longer even than Sadah’s, and very pale skin. The brim of her witch-like hat hid her eyes almost completely from view, and her bangs did the rest, as well as two dark blue feathers hanging down the side of her pale face. Her ears were strangely pointed, and she was tall, willowy and graceful; her long, full blue skirt was embroidered with blue gemstones, and her black waistcoat was trimmed collar, waist and sleeves with luxurious white fur. When she spoke, her voice spoke of aristocracy and delicate breeding; and yet she seemed strangely out of place, as if she were from another time.

“Good evening. My name is Imriel de Corvidae. May I assist you in any way?” the lady said, folding her hands together before her.

“I… good evening, I am called Sadah Romni,” Sadah responded, fumbling slightly for her words, and standing up a bit straighter. “I have lost my way, and came in to ask for directions. I did knock,” she said, hesitating. “But there was no answer, so I came in. I apologize if this is an inconvenience to you.”

The lady remained silent for a few seconds before answering with the tiniest of polite, detached smiles. “Not in the least. But what is this?” she asked, looking over at the mess behind the counter and the two guilty-looking Pala, her demeanor shifting slightly to reflect the barest touch of amusement. “Lalaia’il, Seseju, why have you mangled my telephone?”
Seseju opened his mouth, obviously about to protest his innocence, but Lala scrambled to her feet and stepped on his tail. Seseju glared at Lala, but understood and kept his mouth shut.

“It’s not mangled, lady,” Lala said hastily. “I’m recombobulating it right now, I is,” she said, nodding vigorously, her hands folded behind her back, the very picture of innocence.

“Very well. But be sure it is in working order when you have finished with it, Lalaia’il.” The lady turned back to Sadah, who hid her smile under a hand. “Now, where was it you needed to go? I can show you the way, or you might stay the night…” she trailed off, a slight curl to her lip indicating to Sadah that the lady did not find this a particularly preferable solution to the current predicament.

“No, no, please, lady, I don’t wish to impose,” Sadah assured her, using the most polite and obeisant tone she knew. “If you’ll only show me the way to Barton Town, I shall depart at once.”

The lady nodded regally, and led Sadah to the door, pulling it open. She quickly indicated the way to the Town, advising Sadah to walk along the road towards the north. In twenty minutes’ time, the lady said, Sadah would arrive at her destination.

Sadah thanked the lady profusely, patted her pack to make sure her crystal ball was still inside and that Seseju had not stolen anything else, then set off along the road once more, feeling as though she was walking out of a very, very strange dream. Lalaia’il ran to the door and waved energetically to Sadah, calling out an enthusiastic “Yendarina!” before returning behind the counter to work on her semi-assembled telephone. Seseju only waved, completely absorbed in his new comb.

The lady Imriel leaned against the doorframe, her eyes following the girl until she was no longer visible. She toyed with the fur on her right sleeve, and smiled mysteriously. “She’ll be back,” she murmured, then chuckled softly and closed the door.

[Shop RP - Aug. 14, 2006. Participants: Sadah Romni, Xennik Droid, Coronaviridae.]

SADAH

Sadah poked her head in the doorway of the strange little shop, expecting to see about the same thing she had the night before - a quiet room, empty of people, save perhaps the Lady Imriel. She got quite a surprise, however; the place seemed to be in the middle of a festival or something. So many people were crammed in the shop, there was almost no place to move - but everyone was careful not to drop any of the beautiful incense lamps.

Sadah almost turned right back around, but something made her stay. After all, it was unlikely that some of her or Danior's kinsmen would find her here, and even if they did, there were too many people around for them to do much of anything. So instead she stepped in and looked around, wondering what the occasion was.

XENNIK

The crowds had thinned a little since earlier that morning, a combination of the heat and the crowds either driving them away or driving them outdoors. Still, it was rather crowded, but not uncomfortably so. Xennik stood in his usual attire, his hat firmly and charmingly on his head, his feather, an inviting blue, flaunting from his hat to his waist. His white shirt's top button was undone, and his vest was open against the heat over his white button-up shirt. He had just finished speaking to someone about the eggs on display, and now leaned against the genially against the wall.

SADAH

Sadah had been looking at a lamp with an especially fetching blue stone, when someone's arm shot out from behind her and grabbed it from the shelf. Sadah scowled at the rudeness, but the offender was already far and away, probably to pay for the lamp. Sadah stepped back from the shelf, still scowling in the general direction of the stranger, and failed to notice a young man standing directly behind her, his foot catching hers and throwing her off-balance. Her eyes went wide as she windmilled her arms, trying not to fall on her backside and embarrass herself further.

XENNIK

Out of the corner of his eye, Xennik noticed soemone flailing their arms and realized that she was about to fall over. Forever a gentleman, he dashed to her rescue, catching her by the upper arms from behind.

"Whoopsy daisies, are you alright, Ma'am?" he asked pleasantly, making sure that she was steady on her feet before releasing her arms. "It's a little crowded in here. It may be wise to watch your footing," he suggested in a friendly manner.


SADAH

Blushing a deep crimson, Sadah took a few seconds to regain her composure before looking up at her 'savior'. He was handsome enough, and well dressed, and he seemed very nice... but he was not Brishen, and thus imperfect in her eyes. Still, he had helped her, and she dipped a curtsy to him.

"My thanks, sir. I apologize, I seem to have left my wits behind today," she said with a sheepish smile. "I am distracted, and my distraction leads to ill," she added, her accented speech lending a musical tone to the words.

She hesitated a moment, then asked, impulsively: "Might I inquire as to the reason for this... crowd?"

XENNIK

"Happens to the best of us," Xennik replied with a smile.

"Oh, this crowd? They're here for the competitions. Some special eggs called Mana eggs are being given out to the people who win. There are also some rather special Pala lamps being given as prizes, too." Xennik nodded toward the display with all of the Mana eggs in all of their excellence, and then pointed out a smaller case with six lamps behind the glass, each set with a glittering stone of a different color.

SADAH

Sadah looked to where the man was pointing, and saw a strange assortment of eggs, each stranger and more beautiful than the next. She wondered what an incense shop would be doing with eggs like these, and puzzled silently over the meaning of what the man had said: Mana eggs? Pala lamps? The lamps in the smaller case looked like the others on the shelves, a little paler maybe, but made in very much the same style.

The stones on these, however, were breathtaking. Sadah's eye was immediately drawn to one of the four lamps, one set with a sparkling orange gem. It reminded her of the caravan, of nights spent by the fire, playing the fiddle or dancing, of listening to Brishen tell stories in the quiet of the night...

"Beautiful," she murmured, awestruck. "What must one do to obtain one of these?"

XENNIK

Xennik allowed his blue eyes to wander as the woman examined the lamps he'd just pointed out, admiring the many Pala, kunkuns and kyun that either wandered the shop alone, talked in little groups, or carefully followed their guardians around, smiling at their incredible coats and their (for the most part) hyper-active outlooks on life as a whole.

When the woman began to speak again, he looked back to her. "Well, half of them," he explained, taking her elbow and gently pulling her forward as he approached the cabinet, indicating which half, "are going in an art contest. The other half are prizes for a story telling contest."

SADAH

Sadah had allowed herself to be led towards the display case, her eyes still fixed on the beautiful lamp. At the man’s last words, however, she turned her attention back to him. “Storytelling?” she repeated, pleasantly surprised. She could tell stories. From the cradle, every gypsy child was taught certain folk tales, and Sadah knew how to make an audience laugh, cry or shiver, and how to lend drama to the tale with the subtle use of tarot cards. Would it be proper for her to enter the contest?

As she was pondering this, she was aware of the man excusing himself; someone was, apparently, calling him away. She nodded briefly to him, and then returned to her reverie, wondering which story she could tell.

CORONAVIRIDAE

Sadah wasn't the only one drawn in by the talk of a storytelling contest, though the man who showed up not long after Xennik departed was...by no means a gypsy. Not with hair as white as milk, though the tattoos on his exposed face and hands were certainly exotic, as was the cloak he wore thrown on over his clothes.

"Huh," he said, examining the lamps in a decidedly avian way. "So these are the putative prizes for the contest they've been talking about? They're pretty." He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, but Sadah was right there, so the question was in her general direction.

SADAH

Sadah started visibly at the sound of the stranger's voice. She had been so deep inside her own little world that she had not noticed the man with the tattoos. His voice had yanked her out of an internal debate over whether or not it would be appropriate to tell the story of the three princesses with the torn shoes, and it took her a second to process what it was the man had said, never mind his somewhat startling appearance.

"Ah... yes, sir, that they are," she said demurely. Then, not wanting to appear impolite, she moved aside to let him see better. "I quite like the orange one, myself," she half-murmured.


CORONAVIRIDAE

"I'd say I like that one," the man indicated the opalescent white with a lift of his hand, "but I'm not shopping for myself. Are they just pretty, or do they do anything else worthwhile?" He moved up a little closer to Sadah, as she obliged by stepping aside, getting out of the crowd.

SADAH

Sadah admired the lamp the man indicated politely, privately thinking that she still preferred hers. “To tell you the truth, sir, I don’t quite know myself. The man I was just speaking to… he said they were, ah…” Sadah fumbled for the term. “Pala lamps? They look like regular incense lamps to me. I believe they come with a packet of the shop’s own incense,” she said, having earlier observed that people who left with lamps also received a small packet.

CORONAVIRIDAE

The tattooed man nodded at this explanation. "So mostly for show, then," he replied, amused. Though there was something--from his tone--that he wasn't being forthright about.

SADAH

Sadah nodded politely again, unwilling to get into a debate with a stranger about what the word ‘Pala’ could mean. “If you will excuse me, sir, I must be returning home. I am sure we will meet again, if you plan to enter the storytelling competition. I look forward to hearing your tale.” And with that, she dropped a curtsy, then headed out the door of the shop and back home to Mnemosyne’s, her head nearly buzzing with ideas and questions.