Welcome to Gaia! ::

Waiting for a Ship

Definitely Not Lost

Rowan returned home with a little bounce in her step, and couldn't seem to hide her pleasure when she proudly presented her aunt with the ingredients she had been sent out for.

Corwen raised an eyebrow. "You're back sooner than I expected. And all in one piece. I'm impressed, Rowan."

Rowan beamed at her aunt, though she vaguely felt that she ought to be disturbed that Corwen more or less confirmed Adrastea's criticisms - she had known exactly what sort of environment she was sending her young niece into, and didn't appear to be terribly concerned about it. "I met someone who helped me." Rowan said. "She was..." The desire to gush over Adra almost got the better of Rowan. But that sort of display would not be appreciated. Not by Corwen. "She was very nice. She helped me find the apothecary and then she showed me how to get out of the district."

"Hmmm..." Corwen said, frowning and fixing a suspicious gaze on her niece. "I see. Well, you appear to have everything I sent you for, I can find no fault in your performance. But Rowan, don't rely on others. The only person you can truly trust is yourself. You remember that, child."

Rowan nodded solemnly, though she was certain that Adra was the type of person a girl could trust.

Trying Again

Taming Log: Double drat! I fell asleep last night, and when I woke up the snare was empty. I am fairly certain that no creature came by and then escaped, as the bait was still untouched. Perhaps it is the nature of the trap itself that is not working for me. I will have to refer back to my books.

Third time a charm?

Taming Log: I caught one! It appears that the trap I was using was, indeed, the problem. But the creature itself refused to be tamed. The damned thing escaped out the window, after several days of abusing me and being generally terribly behaved. Perhaps I should reconsider the type of creature I target.

-[The Path of Fate, Part 2]-

Corwen Sodur sat behind an imposing blackwood desk. Her office was a large and dark room, lit only by the flickering fire the maids had set to burning early that morning. The walls had built-in bookshelves that contained a myriad of tomes, their leather-bound bodies gleaming appealingly in the dim light. Rowan took in the sight of her aunt sitting straight-up in the high wing-backed chair, and took a deep breath before proceeding forward.

Corwen was a monochrome of an Oblivionite. Her skin was a Dark slate blue, and her hair, which was curled into a tidy bun, was a paler shade of slate. Rowan resisted the urge to touch her own bun - she had adopted the hairstyle once she had moved in with her aunt. Subconsciously, the attempt at imitation had been meant to garner the approval of her aunt, though Rowan had difficulty telling if the gambit had been effective.

"Come in, child. Come closer." Corwen beckoned her niece with one perfectly manicured finger, and Rowan found herself walking slowly forward. She was certain she couldn't be in trouble, though with all of the taming drama and bringing birds in the house, it was possible that she was in for a scolding.

"There are two directions that you can take in this family." Corwen said somberly. "While following the path of the Sodur women will contain a great deal of study and research, you must also pursue a profession that will act as a shield for what you truly seek. Your mother chose the path of an herbalist, as I'm sure you remember. She studied the properties of the plants she grew, fostering them to become stronger and more potent. Growing them only during the correct lunar phase. This is an honorable job to choose." Rowan nodded, remembering her mother's little green room, and the tidy beds of herbs and flowers she had nurtured as tenderly as she had nurtured Rowan herself.

" I chose the path of the alchemist - seeking out and mixing ingredients to create potions. Tweaking and altering recipes to new heights of efficiency and potency. Also an honorable job. You, Rowan, must choose a profession. Once you have become adept at your chosen path, you will begin to learn the family secrets."

She had known this choice was coming, and she was prepared. Her decision had been made some time ago. The pain of her family's disappearance still lurked too close to the surface for Rowan to be willing to take on herbalism. She wanted to escape that pain, not embrace it. Choosing alchemy was the only decision that made sense.

"I will follow in your footsteps, aunt. I would like to study alchemy."

Her words were rewarded by a broad smile as her aunt stood. "I am pleased with your choice, Rowan. I will tutor you myself. Come, I have something to show you." She left her office and made her way down the hall a short distance. Opening a small, nondescript door, Corwen revealed a stone staircase leading down into darkness. She descended, and Rowan followed behind. The staircase ended in a circular stone room. There was a worktable curving along one wall, as well as shelving and storage. The room was empty, save for a simple black cauldron, some vials of what appeared to be water, and three books.

"This will be your workroom, Rowan. As you learn, you will begin to fill it. You will seek out most of your own ingredients, because that, too, is part of your learning." Corwen rested her hand gently on Rowan's head. "I'm proud of you, child. You will do honor to this family.

To market, to market

-[Tangled Webs]-

Rowan walked into Corwen's work room, her heart pounding. The room was dark, lit only with candles and firelight. Three cauldrons stood ready, next to each of them a vial, a mortar and pestle, and a blank piece of parchment to be written on. The young Oblivionite glanced to the corner, where her aunt stood. Tonight was about so much more than proving she had been paying attention to her lessons and was ready to move on to the next stage of her education. Tonight was also about answers. Corwen had promised her niece that if she passed tonight's test, she would provide what answers she could about the strange markings on Rowan's body.

Rowan already had some understanding of what they were. But what she wasn't certain of was how... or why. Why seemed to be the biggest question that had been rattling around in her head. But all these questions had to be pushed aside for the moment. She had to focus. Because if she didn't succeed at the task at hand, those answers might never come to her. She walked to the cupboard which held the ingredients she believed she was most likely to need and took them down, carrying them over to where the first cauldron sat bubbling. She took the vial and held it up in the dim light, frowning thoughtfully, then emptied it into the cauldron. As the poison swirled and bubbled Rowan began grinding the herbs she would need and mixing them with alcohol or oil, depending on the ingredient. Finally, everything seemed to be prepared and she added the additional ingredients, murmuring an incantation under her breath. It was as if the pot was suddenly full of oil - the poison separated out into it's different components. From there, it was merely a matter of identifying the components - a task that was easier said than done. This was certainly not an open-book test, and Rowan was grateful that she had spent so much time over the past several months memorizing ingredients and their properties. The first poison only contained three ingredients, and they were relatively simple to identify. Taking a quill, she wrote the components and the name of the poison on the parchment, and then moved on to the next cauldron. This one was trickier, it contained seven ingredients and some of them were terribly esoteric. Rowan felt beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. She wiped them away hastily and took a deep breath. These tests were not meant to be easy, they were meant to prove her worth. Once she had determined the components, the name of the poison escaped her and she had the terrifying sensation that she was completely losing her mind.

Think... think! And then it came to her. With a huge sigh of relief Rowan wrote down the name of the poison and moved on. The poison waiting for her at the third cauldron was a greasy, viscous substance that seemed reluctant to leave the bottle. It plopped into the cauldron resentfully, and then didn't melt or swirl at all. It just sank to the bottom in an ugly, sludgy ball. This would not do at all! If she could not get the stuff to melt and spread in the water, she would never be able to separate the parts! Rowan took a deep breath in concentration, and then remembered something Corwen had said in passing. The youngster went back over the the cabinet and pulled out a small vial of a liquid that strongly resembled vinegar. She added to the pot and held her breath, waiting. The black sludge loosened, and then spread throughout the cauldron. It took Rowan an hour to identify all thirteen ingredients, but she finally managed. The poison was a rare one, and people called it by all sorts of names. Black adder, nights tooth, the midnight death. But Rowan knew that those who had the skill to make it simply called it Bindwatch. So that was the name that she put down.

The whole ordeal had taken several hours, and had been more exhausting than the young Oblivionite had anticipated. She held her breath while Corwen inspected the cauldrons and then read each parchment. That in itself seemed to take forever. Finally, her aunt approached her.

"You've done well, Rowan. I'm pleased with you." The faintest hint of a smile crossed her usually severe face. "And I do believe I owe you an explanation." Corwen walked out of the workroom and led her niece to the well-appointed parlor, gesturing for the girl to sit. "The markings on your hand and face are protection wards. Your mother had them cast on you when you were only a little baby. They are the result of powerful blood magic, and were probably triggered the night your family disappeared. Look." She held out her hand an Rowan did the same. "You can see, underneath the dim glow, where the scars are."

Rowan took her hand back and inspected it carefully. Yes, there were scars so thin and delicate that she had never noticed them before. But, as she thought about it, she realized that there were other parts of her body that bore similar scars - they didn't glow, however. Only her face and her hand. The young Oblivionite frowned. "There are more than just these, aunt. Why don't they glow as well?"

"Ah, of that I am not sure. The wards react to danger and heightened emotion. They are only triggered by something that would cause a direct threat to your life. Your mother had them as well, you know. As do I." Corwen pulled aside the collar of her dress so that Rowan, if she leaned in closely, could see the very faint raised lines that covered the shoulder and collar bone. "Mine were never activated. Neither were your mothers. But something happened that night that activated yours."

"Why?" Rowan asked, struggling to grasp all of this new information. "Whats the point?"

"Clearly the point is to protect the women of our line." Corwen said, her voice suddenly sharp. "You would do well to realize that you are valuable. You are one of only three females to carry on our work. Your cousins, who you have not met, were also bespelled in their infancy. We must protect the family work. We must protect our daughters." This was said with an air of finality. "That is all I can tell you for now, Rowan. Something happened that night that activated the wards. But I certainly don't know what it was. And I'm not sure if you will ever know either. Accept what they are and be grateful that they protected you."

"But if mother had protection wards too, how is it that she disappeared? Why wouldn't she have been protected as well?"

Corwen shook her head. "I don't know, child. I truly don't. We may never find the answer to that question." She stood, making it clear the conversation was over. "Best to accept things as they are and move forward." She rested a hand gently atop Rowan's head before leaving the room. Rowan, however, sat up the rest of the night. Thinking and thinking.