It was a party, and Votzhem knew he should relax. Hybrid and fullblood alike were invited by the elders to celebrate the springtime and the start of thousands of new lives beneath the boughs of Aisha, and they did so despite the whispers of hostility in the air. Of course, there were more guards than usual, protecting the tree's inner circumference and preventing any from getting closer than the outer boughs, but Aisha was enormous enough to cover them all still, and Her joy suffused the celebrations and precluded any further 'protections' and 'restrictions'. Her presence was palpable, in every beat of every heart, and even the angrier women among the Alkidikes were merry.

Even Votzhem. After the ambush, and after all the looks and glares he had received in the market afterwards - and worse, after the incident with Kiunyki in the market, where she threw stones at a hybrid with a gang of older Alkidikes – he had been feeling crappy. For all that he wanted to leave, he didn't want to leave. It was an odd feeling, this push and pull, this desire both to go and to stay. He didn't want to give up on his tribe so easily, but he also was nearing the limit of his tolerance. He'd had near to enough. He was done- through - finished with struggling to gain acceptance. But he also wanted to be accepted, still. His childhood dream would not die easily. Here, beneath the edges of Aisha's glowing leaves, he could see why he clung to it so strongly.

In the festival, all the Alkidikes reminded him of his mother – of Lakshmi, who he had left all the way back in Sauti. In celebration, they had that same joy, that blatant boldness, that undefeatable energy that he had always loved about her. It was what had drawn him to favor her over Vennan, and what had convinced him to take up the path of a Blade instead of whatever magic class he would have otherwise become. Sorcerer? Mystic? The latter was more likely.

It didn't matter. Votzhem was a Blade, and he was proud to be one.

Much as he wanted to be in the swing of things, dancing and frolicking with his tribe in the tinted shade of their sacred Mother's leaves, he kept to the edges of the isle, as many of the other hybrids did: For safety of course. Though they were invited, and though no one kept them out, the tensions were still there, beneath the festivities and the unmistakable and benevolent presence of Aisha that suffused everything around them. It was the same reason he hadn't mentioned the festival to Iroia: he was invited, but was not welcome. Besides, he needed to prepare himself to leave, and that was something he needed to do on his own.

Votzhem was happy enough just sitting and enjoying the festival around him. He breezed by the few stalls that had set up in the festival grounds, but he wasn't interested in buying or selling. He gravitated to a nice seating spot, and joined a few of his Sisters – and a brother, he noticed – in the common activity of staring up into Aisha's branches.

Her leaves were a beautiful indigo, shifting slightly in the island's constant breeze. Far above, through the shadows of the leaves, he could see the brilliant reds and pinks of Aisha's flowers, the buds that would bring forth new Alkidike to join the tribe... or new hybrids, as the case may be. His new sisters. His new brothers, if Aisha wished it. They were cradled, securely, in bracts of leaves, safe from the fickle sea weather, out of reach of casual hands.

He'd heard they were growing slower than usual, but Votzhem was sure it was just a passing thing. So many Alkidike had passed on because of the war. And also, so many had returned and decided, afterwards, to renew their bonds to each other and plead with Aisha. He was pretty sure that Aisha was just growing a lot of lotuses and handling a lot of requests, and that it had nothing to do with hybrids or otherwise. She was just trying to make sure that all her little ones turned out okay, that they all got her full attention. Maybe that was what slowed her down – it made perfect sense to Votzhem, and he was glad of it. Suppose someone was born without antennae? Or with only one where there should be two? Or without working eyes or ears or arms or legs? No, let Aisha take her time. If the Mystics weren't worried, neither was he.

Despite the way his tribe had treated him – despite the way that, these days, even little Kiunyki, Kaalnia's daughter, treated him – it still was nice to see all of those lotuses waiting to bloom. His tribe was growing and, even if they didn't want him, even if he was leaving for Sauti to let things cool down for a while, it was still his tribe, and Aisha was still his mother.

He was proud of that, and he was certain of his feelings as he looked up at the resting buds. He was glad he had lingered long enough to see this festival. He knew, now, that his leaving was not a betrayal at all. Aisha knew. Aisha loved him, no matter what he did. If he left and laid low for a while, he could always come back to her, to them, to the tribe.

He smiled, and looked out over the festivities. Yes: he could come back to this. At least, he hoped this was what he would come back to, eventually. This was what he wanted it to be – to live, to love life, to be connected to life itself. That was what being an Alkidike had always been to him, ever since he was a child. It was what being an Alkidike should be, to him. Not what the extremists were doing - Not that hatred.

Things, he believed, would go back to the way they were. He was grateful to be reminded of this ideal now, however, and he would strive to be lively like his mother and Kaalnia. He knew he could keep that aspect of himself alive even in the cold stone of Sauti. In the meantime, he settled in to relax and take in the festival so that it could sustain him even when he was far away...