[Log] Of Religion and Awe
Erasmus has gained a stab wound and Sol offers to treat it, and they discuss religion and other things.
Sol slips in, carring a small satchel.
Erasmus is seated and relaxing, head tilted back to rest on the chair back so
he can gaze at the ceiling. At the sound, he looks up. "It was quite a bout,"
he offers.
Sol says, "A shame I missed it. Is this a suitable place to be treated?"
Erasmus nods, replying, "As suitable place as any. It's... not so bad now,
honest. But you were right, it should be looked at."
Sol says, "Where is the wound?"
Erasmus nod, gingerly pulling his shirt out of his belt to reveal a mess. At
some time it surely was a very bad wound, judging by the swelling and signs
of the blood stain about it. If he says he cleaned it up, it must have been a
spitshine.
Sol frowns gently and looks at him, clearly puzzled why he didn't at least
attempt to take better care of it himself. She pushes her hair over her
shoulder and kneels beside him, opening her bag. She gets out the neccesary
supplies starting with absorbant cloth and stout alcohol. Gently, "This will
likely sting something feirce."
Erasmus nods, looking a little amused and holding back his shirt. "I'll try not
to scream, will never live it down," he comments.
Sol smiles up at Erasmis as she fishes out a flask, "You're teasing me." she
accuses in a soft, amused tone right before she douses the wound with the
alcohol, making sure to rinse it thoroughly enough to wash out dirt, debris,
and help steralize the wound.
Erasmus takes in a sharp breath at the touch of the alcohol, but doesn't
scream. "A little," he admits after a moment. "My family is known for their
medical skills... well, everyone but me, I think. We have a gift for rapid
healing. It'd stopped bleeding fairly quickly."
Sol sighs softly as she's able to get a clearer look at the wound, "It is
festering from the inside out, I will need to re-open the wound." She looks
up, "Have you a blade I might borrow?"
Erasmus looks more embarrassed than surprised at this news, and fishes out a
small, thin dagger from his boot, handing it over silently, brows knitted.
Sol smiles warmly, "I will be swift." She doesn't promise to be gentle. She
uses one hand to stretch the flesh around the wound taunt and in one deft
motion she slices open the wound and lifts a cloth to press against the wound
to catch the seepage, "You said you have been guard here for centuries?" she
asks conversationally
"Aye," Erasmus says, guardedly. "Soldier, though, not physician." If the cut
hurts, it's only apparent in brief tension.
Sol chuckles, "I only seek to make conversation to occupy your mind, not case
your position within the castle." She rinses out the wound thuroughly, "You
must change the dressings on this wound thrice daily. I will give you a salve
which will keep infection at bay. You heal swiftly enough it should be all
that's required, though if the wound continues to weep you must let me know,
I may need to give you a tea."
Erasmus nods, easing off his defensiveness in favor of listening to someone who
does know better. "The brawling is more fun when they don't bring out
knives," he notes ironically. "How did you learn how to heal if your people
can't really die?"
Sol smiles at Erasmus, "This would was not life-threatening just yet, but it is
wise to treat it is it not? I rarely practice this anymore, but I have taught
wisewomen and those favored by the gods the ways of healing, among other
things.
"You're a... priestess, then?" the Commander asks, nodding to himself.
Sol chuckles softly, "Not exactly." she seems amused by the question. Even as
that's said she studies the wound and utters something in a foriegn tongue
which might be a prayer. She then fishes out some salve and spreads it along
the still bleeding wound before paching a modest layer of padding of
absorbant cloth then pandanges the wound, having to wrap around his body to
manage this.
Sol wonders, "What subjects are not taboo to discuss with you?"
Erasmus's turn to look amused at the question, helping with the wrapping as he
can. The re-opening of the wound invokes more winces, more need for care than
there was, but this is likely a good thing. "Taboo? Do you mean... things
that won't anger or offend me? How about we talk your way, and I'll see why
it offends or angers and let you know."
Sol smiles, "I wish to avoid topics which make you ill at ease. I asked about
your history here, that was an unwelcomed inquiry. Discussing family,
likewise would be a tender topic. The better question is what would you like
to speak about?" She ties the wound and puts things back in the bag, offering
it to Erasmus, clearly intending him to keep it to help keep up with the
wound. She then offers him the flask with a smile.
"Ah," Erasmus says, taking the bag with a nod of thanks, and then the flask
with some interest. "They were linked. My family's primary focus is on
healing, and here I am, starting a tussle and getting hurt, and botching even
that. Not much of a Mandrake, am I?" The comment isn't pitiable, just
matter-of-fact.
Sol chuckles softly, "There is not a being I have ever met which is perfect.
You are clearly a perceptive, competant man. It is your privledge, to on
occasion behave a bit recklessly. After a time, I imagine the pressure and
routine is enough to drive anyone to extremes now and again." She smiles
easily, "Perhaps, you are too hard on yourself?"
Erasmus considers that, in light of examining where the taboos really are, and
counter-suggests, "Too hard on others? Is it an unfair thing to expect the
same out of family as one does on oneself, and successfully at that?"
Sol says, "That is something you will have to access to yourself. Not all men,
or women, are equal. Some men are smarter than others, some stronger, some
more endowed with purpouse or duty. Each serves their function, but to evalue
their worth or standards, some will surely fail."
Erasmus looks sharply intrigued there. "How does that work with the nobles,
those born with title? Do your people have problems with paying respect to a
man only because he has a special title, but perhaps does not act the part?"
Sol looks to Erasmus, "In this land, I cannot say. In Kitezh, Mercy nor
weakness is tolerated. A weak leader will be removed from power. In Kitezh,
those who weed weakness from Kitezh often find themselves favored by gods
themselves. So no. Even a ruler must perpetually work to keep his place. You
should Ask Ithunn, or Sebastopol, they would know much better than I."
Erasmus laughs easily at that. "I don't think either of them like me much. But
given what you just said, perhaps they're... testing me, just out of habit?
That's an odd concept in general here, though there are a wide variety of
means to bring a weak person down without removing them... which causes it's
own problems."
Sol says, "I believe it is cultural differences, and frusteration at dealing
with citizens of Amber. I myself overwhelmed." a pause as she settles into a
chair nearby, and admits "Could be for the fact that I have gone entire
decades without interactions with mortals...""
Erasmus leans forward at that last bit, remembers his wound, sits back again.
"Clarify mortals?" he asks, framing his question of interest in an oddly
scientific way.
Sol considers, "Humans. The ones who's kind the gods blessed."
Erasmus tries another tack. "Do you see me as human?"
Sol pauses and considers, "By the standards of Amber? Yes, even if I understand
you are not like others from other realms like Kitezh or Golden circle."
Sol says, "Those who are born, those who are not invunerable in and of
themselves, and do not drastically affect the fate, magics, or creation of
beings within their own home."
Sol tilts her head slightly, "Is that satisfactory?"
Erasmus sits silently for a few minutes, digesting this and discarding
questions in his head. Then, "Somewhat. You intrigue me. Does that happen
often to you?" he asks, half-grinning.
Sol chuckles softly and nods once, "Yes, quite often since coming to Amber. I
am not certain why." A flash of an impish grin, "Perhaps this is why women of
Amber are encouraged to speak coyly rather than openly."
Erasmus laughs, making a face. "Oh, I don't know, that could be the layers upon
layers. Woman are complicated." He states this as fact and moves on. "Let
me... try to explain it, for it may explain others. I do not know, but...
don't laugh." He pauses, only briefly, to see if the young woman intends to
begin laughing right away.
Sol offers him an easy, encouraging smile. She doesn't look as if she intends
to laugh at him, though she does seem curious.
Erasmus, encouraged, explains mostly to the far wall. "In my time out, I have
seen what I thought was the Unicorn, our... patron spirit of Amber, if you
will... five times. Always rather vague, never clear, a fleeting vision. But
once or twice, I had the feeling She was looking at me, and our eyes met. And
in that moment, both moments, the summary of all the things within me that
were shameful or broken were in stark relief against her pure white." He half
smiles at the memory. "Since the first time that happened, I got the
impression that the surest way to worship Her was to work to purify what She
showed me."
Sol's head tilts, "This is the first mention of a local goddess I have heard."
She tilts her head and seems puzzled, "Why would anyone laugh at you? Is it
so inconcievable that your god would show you such favor?" She notes softly,
"And there is no mistaking that as a sign of favor, even in this strange
place with a strange goddess."
Erasmus chuckles quietly, glancing to Sol. "She is not mentioned very much
outside the palace, or it's not spoken of too often. I don't know that many
have actually laid eyes on Her themselves. But the point that may provoke you
to laugh is that you made me feel a little that way when I was first in your
entryway."
Sol doesn't laugh but rather stiffles a soft sigh, "There are those, such as
Sebastopol, who are convinced I am a goddess." Her smile a touch wry.
"I would believe it, too," Erasmus replies, mirroring the smile somewhat. "But
now you know what form any worship would take... and perhaps opening doors
for you, picking up treats from the Golden Circle..." He waves a hand as if
to say 'and so on', smiling.
Sol says, "I am no Goddess, merely a servent. I am not a priestess, it is not
my function to worship. Any who worship me would find disfavor with the gods
who are quite jealous of the faith of their followers. I have tried to
persuade Sebastopol, but he is nothing if not stubborn." she chuckles and
shakes her head, "I must learn to behave as a human." she hrrms and tilts her
head and wonders to Erasmus, "Perhaps I should aquire a vice?"
Sol amends, "A human vice."
Erasmus spreads his hands in a 'what am I to do?' gesture and smiles, sitting
back. "There is a wide variety to choose from," he says, helpfully. "For you,
I think... not closing your mouth while eating. That would help bring you
down to earth."
Sol says, "Kitezh is attempting to portray itself as civilized, but perhaps it
would be worth a try."
Erasmus nods, mouth twitching. "It may not work, but I will try to think of
others that may be helpful. I'm afraid most of them seem... insanely
offensive in light of you, even though I deal daily with most of them without
that feeling."
Sol chuckles softly, "What makes them insanely offensive? What are they?"
Erasmus shifts, minding his hurt. "Well... I'm loathe to mention, as you may
try them, and force me to fall on my sword in anguish. They seem to reflect a
lack of care about surrounding people, I think. It's not something that fits
with you. At all."
Sol laughs softly, "I shall observe, and choose one. Perhaps mere rumors may
suffice." She rises and smiles warmly, "I should return to the Embassy. You
will remember to take care of yourself?"
Erasmus looks a little worried now, and stands as well. "I'll go straightaway
to bed, it's overdue. Thank you for the treatment and advice. I hope you
will... be prudent in the vices." Ho boy.
Sol chuckles, "I will give due consideration to the consequences. I shall
surely ask your advice before choosing a course." she assures easily.
Erasmus executes a bow, though it's hardly somber. "Very good. Have a good
evening, Sol."
Sol smiles, "You as well, Erasmus." She pads out quietly.
Sol slips in, carring a small satchel.
Erasmus is seated and relaxing, head tilted back to rest on the chair back so
he can gaze at the ceiling. At the sound, he looks up. "It was quite a bout,"
he offers.
Sol says, "A shame I missed it. Is this a suitable place to be treated?"
Erasmus nods, replying, "As suitable place as any. It's... not so bad now,
honest. But you were right, it should be looked at."
Sol says, "Where is the wound?"
Erasmus nod, gingerly pulling his shirt out of his belt to reveal a mess. At
some time it surely was a very bad wound, judging by the swelling and signs
of the blood stain about it. If he says he cleaned it up, it must have been a
spitshine.
Sol frowns gently and looks at him, clearly puzzled why he didn't at least
attempt to take better care of it himself. She pushes her hair over her
shoulder and kneels beside him, opening her bag. She gets out the neccesary
supplies starting with absorbant cloth and stout alcohol. Gently, "This will
likely sting something feirce."
Erasmus nods, looking a little amused and holding back his shirt. "I'll try not
to scream, will never live it down," he comments.
Sol smiles up at Erasmis as she fishes out a flask, "You're teasing me." she
accuses in a soft, amused tone right before she douses the wound with the
alcohol, making sure to rinse it thoroughly enough to wash out dirt, debris,
and help steralize the wound.
Erasmus takes in a sharp breath at the touch of the alcohol, but doesn't
scream. "A little," he admits after a moment. "My family is known for their
medical skills... well, everyone but me, I think. We have a gift for rapid
healing. It'd stopped bleeding fairly quickly."
Sol sighs softly as she's able to get a clearer look at the wound, "It is
festering from the inside out, I will need to re-open the wound." She looks
up, "Have you a blade I might borrow?"
Erasmus looks more embarrassed than surprised at this news, and fishes out a
small, thin dagger from his boot, handing it over silently, brows knitted.
Sol smiles warmly, "I will be swift." She doesn't promise to be gentle. She
uses one hand to stretch the flesh around the wound taunt and in one deft
motion she slices open the wound and lifts a cloth to press against the wound
to catch the seepage, "You said you have been guard here for centuries?" she
asks conversationally
"Aye," Erasmus says, guardedly. "Soldier, though, not physician." If the cut
hurts, it's only apparent in brief tension.
Sol chuckles, "I only seek to make conversation to occupy your mind, not case
your position within the castle." She rinses out the wound thuroughly, "You
must change the dressings on this wound thrice daily. I will give you a salve
which will keep infection at bay. You heal swiftly enough it should be all
that's required, though if the wound continues to weep you must let me know,
I may need to give you a tea."
Erasmus nods, easing off his defensiveness in favor of listening to someone who
does know better. "The brawling is more fun when they don't bring out
knives," he notes ironically. "How did you learn how to heal if your people
can't really die?"
Sol smiles at Erasmus, "This would was not life-threatening just yet, but it is
wise to treat it is it not? I rarely practice this anymore, but I have taught
wisewomen and those favored by the gods the ways of healing, among other
things.
"You're a... priestess, then?" the Commander asks, nodding to himself.
Sol chuckles softly, "Not exactly." she seems amused by the question. Even as
that's said she studies the wound and utters something in a foriegn tongue
which might be a prayer. She then fishes out some salve and spreads it along
the still bleeding wound before paching a modest layer of padding of
absorbant cloth then pandanges the wound, having to wrap around his body to
manage this.
Sol wonders, "What subjects are not taboo to discuss with you?"
Erasmus's turn to look amused at the question, helping with the wrapping as he
can. The re-opening of the wound invokes more winces, more need for care than
there was, but this is likely a good thing. "Taboo? Do you mean... things
that won't anger or offend me? How about we talk your way, and I'll see why
it offends or angers and let you know."
Sol smiles, "I wish to avoid topics which make you ill at ease. I asked about
your history here, that was an unwelcomed inquiry. Discussing family,
likewise would be a tender topic. The better question is what would you like
to speak about?" She ties the wound and puts things back in the bag, offering
it to Erasmus, clearly intending him to keep it to help keep up with the
wound. She then offers him the flask with a smile.
"Ah," Erasmus says, taking the bag with a nod of thanks, and then the flask
with some interest. "They were linked. My family's primary focus is on
healing, and here I am, starting a tussle and getting hurt, and botching even
that. Not much of a Mandrake, am I?" The comment isn't pitiable, just
matter-of-fact.
Sol chuckles softly, "There is not a being I have ever met which is perfect.
You are clearly a perceptive, competant man. It is your privledge, to on
occasion behave a bit recklessly. After a time, I imagine the pressure and
routine is enough to drive anyone to extremes now and again." She smiles
easily, "Perhaps, you are too hard on yourself?"
Erasmus considers that, in light of examining where the taboos really are, and
counter-suggests, "Too hard on others? Is it an unfair thing to expect the
same out of family as one does on oneself, and successfully at that?"
Sol says, "That is something you will have to access to yourself. Not all men,
or women, are equal. Some men are smarter than others, some stronger, some
more endowed with purpouse or duty. Each serves their function, but to evalue
their worth or standards, some will surely fail."
Erasmus looks sharply intrigued there. "How does that work with the nobles,
those born with title? Do your people have problems with paying respect to a
man only because he has a special title, but perhaps does not act the part?"
Sol looks to Erasmus, "In this land, I cannot say. In Kitezh, Mercy nor
weakness is tolerated. A weak leader will be removed from power. In Kitezh,
those who weed weakness from Kitezh often find themselves favored by gods
themselves. So no. Even a ruler must perpetually work to keep his place. You
should Ask Ithunn, or Sebastopol, they would know much better than I."
Erasmus laughs easily at that. "I don't think either of them like me much. But
given what you just said, perhaps they're... testing me, just out of habit?
That's an odd concept in general here, though there are a wide variety of
means to bring a weak person down without removing them... which causes it's
own problems."
Sol says, "I believe it is cultural differences, and frusteration at dealing
with citizens of Amber. I myself overwhelmed." a pause as she settles into a
chair nearby, and admits "Could be for the fact that I have gone entire
decades without interactions with mortals...""
Erasmus leans forward at that last bit, remembers his wound, sits back again.
"Clarify mortals?" he asks, framing his question of interest in an oddly
scientific way.
Sol considers, "Humans. The ones who's kind the gods blessed."
Erasmus tries another tack. "Do you see me as human?"
Sol pauses and considers, "By the standards of Amber? Yes, even if I understand
you are not like others from other realms like Kitezh or Golden circle."
Sol says, "Those who are born, those who are not invunerable in and of
themselves, and do not drastically affect the fate, magics, or creation of
beings within their own home."
Sol tilts her head slightly, "Is that satisfactory?"
Erasmus sits silently for a few minutes, digesting this and discarding
questions in his head. Then, "Somewhat. You intrigue me. Does that happen
often to you?" he asks, half-grinning.
Sol chuckles softly and nods once, "Yes, quite often since coming to Amber. I
am not certain why." A flash of an impish grin, "Perhaps this is why women of
Amber are encouraged to speak coyly rather than openly."
Erasmus laughs, making a face. "Oh, I don't know, that could be the layers upon
layers. Woman are complicated." He states this as fact and moves on. "Let
me... try to explain it, for it may explain others. I do not know, but...
don't laugh." He pauses, only briefly, to see if the young woman intends to
begin laughing right away.
Sol offers him an easy, encouraging smile. She doesn't look as if she intends
to laugh at him, though she does seem curious.
Erasmus, encouraged, explains mostly to the far wall. "In my time out, I have
seen what I thought was the Unicorn, our... patron spirit of Amber, if you
will... five times. Always rather vague, never clear, a fleeting vision. But
once or twice, I had the feeling She was looking at me, and our eyes met. And
in that moment, both moments, the summary of all the things within me that
were shameful or broken were in stark relief against her pure white." He half
smiles at the memory. "Since the first time that happened, I got the
impression that the surest way to worship Her was to work to purify what She
showed me."
Sol's head tilts, "This is the first mention of a local goddess I have heard."
She tilts her head and seems puzzled, "Why would anyone laugh at you? Is it
so inconcievable that your god would show you such favor?" She notes softly,
"And there is no mistaking that as a sign of favor, even in this strange
place with a strange goddess."
Erasmus chuckles quietly, glancing to Sol. "She is not mentioned very much
outside the palace, or it's not spoken of too often. I don't know that many
have actually laid eyes on Her themselves. But the point that may provoke you
to laugh is that you made me feel a little that way when I was first in your
entryway."
Sol doesn't laugh but rather stiffles a soft sigh, "There are those, such as
Sebastopol, who are convinced I am a goddess." Her smile a touch wry.
"I would believe it, too," Erasmus replies, mirroring the smile somewhat. "But
now you know what form any worship would take... and perhaps opening doors
for you, picking up treats from the Golden Circle..." He waves a hand as if
to say 'and so on', smiling.
Sol says, "I am no Goddess, merely a servent. I am not a priestess, it is not
my function to worship. Any who worship me would find disfavor with the gods
who are quite jealous of the faith of their followers. I have tried to
persuade Sebastopol, but he is nothing if not stubborn." she chuckles and
shakes her head, "I must learn to behave as a human." she hrrms and tilts her
head and wonders to Erasmus, "Perhaps I should aquire a vice?"
Sol amends, "A human vice."
Erasmus spreads his hands in a 'what am I to do?' gesture and smiles, sitting
back. "There is a wide variety to choose from," he says, helpfully. "For you,
I think... not closing your mouth while eating. That would help bring you
down to earth."
Sol says, "Kitezh is attempting to portray itself as civilized, but perhaps it
would be worth a try."
Erasmus nods, mouth twitching. "It may not work, but I will try to think of
others that may be helpful. I'm afraid most of them seem... insanely
offensive in light of you, even though I deal daily with most of them without
that feeling."
Sol chuckles softly, "What makes them insanely offensive? What are they?"
Erasmus shifts, minding his hurt. "Well... I'm loathe to mention, as you may
try them, and force me to fall on my sword in anguish. They seem to reflect a
lack of care about surrounding people, I think. It's not something that fits
with you. At all."
Sol laughs softly, "I shall observe, and choose one. Perhaps mere rumors may
suffice." She rises and smiles warmly, "I should return to the Embassy. You
will remember to take care of yourself?"
Erasmus looks a little worried now, and stands as well. "I'll go straightaway
to bed, it's overdue. Thank you for the treatment and advice. I hope you
will... be prudent in the vices." Ho boy.
Sol chuckles, "I will give due consideration to the consequences. I shall
surely ask your advice before choosing a course." she assures easily.
Erasmus executes a bow, though it's hardly somber. "Very good. Have a good
evening, Sol."
Sol smiles, "You as well, Erasmus." She pads out quietly.