Private Song of Souls - i - Star-Crossed Return

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

He did not have to be so careful, for the heard him before she saw him, but an abundance of caution was the best law of farmland for anyone could be something very delicate, carrying something very fragile, or wielding a very sharp tool at any time.

Once able to make out his words, she could not help the smile which broke across her face like the twin sunrise.

“A scholarly task to complete in the field?” she asked, voice lilting with resisted laughter at what she assumed was a jest as she met him on the path. She thought on it a moment and quickly decided to joke back. She swept an arm out to her side, turning with it at her midsection to indicate the field that they had mused over last night. “Convince my reeds to harvest themselves with your eloquence.”

Coming back to center, she expected at least a mirrored smile.

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

For a moment, he talk her joke seriously, and looked out over the field contemplating what manner of grain she must be growing that it would respond to…he smiled, and glanced back at her. “You mock me and compliment all in the same breath,” he said with a hearty laugh, “of a truth, I find thee to have changed little…and a lot…ever the enigma.”

He stepped forward into the field with his arms outstretched. If she wished it, he would not deny her desire.

”Lend unto me thine ears,” he dared not look at Gaiatrie lest her possible eye-rolling dissuade him from his speech, “take sustenance…take life from the soil…grow tall and gift us with thy gracious bounties…we thank you plants of the field…we thank the gods for thee.”

Now standing several steps into the field, he bent down as if listening to the stalks themselves.

”I see…ah…well that is a rather large undertaking…oh she did, did she?” He said, holding down his side of the conversation, “by the holy ones…I do not believe it possible…noooo…”

He stood, hands on hips, and shaking his head.

”What they say of you I will not burden you,” he said with a deep but clearly false seriousness, “and of me they claim they shall only grow today by the sweat of my brow…alas…my words are of none effect.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Gaia did roll her eyes behind Pithy’s back, but was still all smiles. Once he stood again and turned around, pretending to be cross, she tried to be serious back. “Ahh, well, you are still the pride of Idridri to me,” she replied, the latter contents of which were not part of the game.

“Come along,” she continued before she turned on her heels and resumed walking down the dirt path. “University must have taught you color theory.” At the shed’s entrance, she stopped, took hold of the cloth door hanging, and tossed the hem up onto the short, flat roof. “I have already prepared the dyes.” She walked towards the pots lined up against the wall, then stood up on her toes to take hold of the wooden handle of the old scythe that hung above them. In between dark branch knots, the names Myrian and Stachys were carved in neat Cymothë glyphs. Curious that she had not gotten around to adding her name as its new wielder after all this time.

With twists of her hands, one hide tie came off its hook and then the other. She stepped back down on her heels and stepped back, bringing the tool with her and shielding the blade’s edge with her hand. “Make me a new pretty color, yes?”

If that was agreeable, she disappeared outside and to the far corner of the small field with another bright smile.

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

The way he followed at her call was almost as an excited puppy, for he was happy for any distraction. He almost immediately noted the glyphs on the wall, and his demeanour shifted to one of melancholy. He was staring at the glyphs by the time Gaiatrie spoke again. The melancholy brought on by the grief for her loss would weave its way through the process which she set him too.

”Colour theory. Yes,” he said softly, “I am acquainted with it, though by no means an expert.“

He didn’t have to stand any taller to look into the pots of dye. Primary colours as expected, and some unique shades that he had not seen outside of Idridri itself. “We really must come up with a name for this one…it reminds me of a sunset down the vale…”

“A new colour?” He said, brows aloft in surprise.

“As you wish,” he said. The shrug was more of confusion than indifference. He did not think himself capable of the task, and more wanted to argue the defintion of the word ‘new’. It was neither time nor place for such an Intellectual exercise. He would settle for something new to him. Perhaps inspired by Chandrila? She was gone within moments, and he set to work over the vat.

Chandrila itself was a culture of great antiquity and nobility. Pithy had found the world itself intriguing and the people to be of great worth. It was only their love for the Force that caused him to deny it as worthy of his long term attention, though he was well aware that upon marrying Corsae he would probably be assigned to Chandrila as ambassador. The thought gave him pause as he stirred the vat.

Lake Andrasha.

His mind filled with images of the unique shade of light purple that made the lake such a destination for the elite of Chandrila. A great deal of blue was added initially, before smaller samples of the base green and red. At first, it was overly turquoise, then he overcorrected to make it too deep a shade of purple. Back and forth he went over the next few hours, pondering and balancing, mixing small amounts as tests to insure he was getting the proportions correct.

Pithy had lost all sense of time by the time the midday meal and rest period came about. The suns outside was preparing for its harshest parts of their journey across the heavens. Wise workers knew it was time to shelter in the shade, rest and refresh before working to the dying of the day. Pithy, though, sat on the ground amidst a myriad of clay bowls and jars. His face, arms and clothes were smeared and stained by the dye he had been working with. Papers stained with various shades were spread out before him, recording in meticulous detail all the combinations he had tried. The smile on his face and light in his eyes spoke to his victory.

Corsae had been out to visit him in his work a few times and seemed content that he was relaxing in his own way. She had only just departed when he finally reached the culmination of his work. It did sting a little that she had not cared to wait the extra moments necessary to see his success. Still, his mission was a success.

He held the small earthen vessel towards the light streaming through the door, and caught the reflection of the light. “Ah….there you are…Andrasha…”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Gaia had been bringing in bundles of harvest reeds all the while, separated into shoots and roots. Both went into separate metal pots that she had filled with water last night. When no more shoots or rhizomes could fit into the appropriate pot, she began stacking them up in piles on a nearby workbench.

Once it was time for her to take the noontime break, she did. She took her portion of breakfast, now long cold, lingering in the kitchen after she did. Should she cut Pithy a piece and bring it to him? Heat flashed over her and pricked at her sinuses as she recalled the last time she had taken him food, plus how it went. Still, it was her duty as a hostess, doubly so if he was working for her, though she had not expected it of him. She placed a piece of the bread on a clean food cloth and added a quarter of a cooling cucumber, a handful of dried, whole olives, and the cap of the largest mushroom growing in the kitchen window planter.

A series of knocks on the side of the shed introduced her before she came in. “Well, good inventor?” she asked, leaning down a little to offer him the package of morsels. "How goes it?"

The cloth was exchanged for the earthen vessel.

The moment she beheld Andrasha was the very same she gasped sharply. Though he had been inspired by Chandrila to mix it, she was immediately struck with a wave of personal gnosis from a lake she had never been to. The Gods themselves must have decorated Mount Sinon in this color, or so she imagined. "It is so very lovely," she complimented before stepping away from him. She carried the vessel safely cradled in both of her hands as if it was the most important vessel in the world and set it down carefully next to the plant parts. Then, around she turned. "Thank you. I shall dye some of the errois with this for market. Do you wish for royalties?"

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

“You really like it?” He said, face lighting up from the achievement itself.

“Oh, no money is necessary…getting it to me will be difficult soon any way…”

His disposition notably changed at the mention of his circumstances changing. He was only back on Sargus Novis for a little over a month. His second new moon on his homeworld would be his last for a long time, maybe forever. It was a bittersweet thought, but his journey seemed like by people far more powerful than he.

”It is the same colour as a lake on Chandrila…I shall likely get my fill…over the years.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

She furrowed her brow at him, but more at herself. She ought remain an impartial hostess, but bygone friendly love for Anepithymitos rose in her chest as he spoke anyway, breaching her lips once he had finished. She had allowed him to part from here once long ago irrevocably hurt and would not be able to live with herself if she was so careless with him again. Thus, the duty to speak her mind overpowered the duty of xenia.

"You..." She rocked back on her heels to peer outside of the shed from the gap left between the hanging cloth and the doorway. It looked as if no one lingered outside. "...do not have to leave." Quickly, she added, as not to sound more improper than she most likely already did, "That is, if you shall not want to, as it seems you may not. I do not mean to presume, sir, but I once knew you and I still remember the ways your... voice betrays your upset. I hear that now.

"I know not your plight, so forgive me if I misspeak, but I say you owe them no alliance for their scholarship greater than your unending gratitude, which I am sure you have and will continue to give them." She could not help the gentle scoff that she made next. "But, man, Pithy?" She could also not help the nickname slipping out with the string of her impassioned words, but managed at least to correct herself—"Men? They have given you no knowledge of their own. They are but vessels to Cymothoë; it is to Her that you owe your devotion.

"If you do wish back to Chandrila, go, but go of Her will and not theirs."

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

He stood stunned, mouth agape. He did not know what to say. The passion with which she spoke had been reserved for few subjects she had spoken of. The passion and forthrightness of her speech, unbridled by feelings of propriety. It was like the Gaia of old had possessed her.

“Cymothoë be praised…you speak wisdom…but…”

He struggled with the words to continue. He did not wish to return, but he had obligation. Surely, he had obligation. But his love for Sargus Novis had been ignited the day he stood on the balcony and spoke his truths.

“…I risk being one in destiny with Androcles…whatever path I take.”

Hands came to his face, as he paced. He was clearly taking Gaiatrie’s words seriously. They were clearly his preferred path. When he took his hands away from his face, he had his back turned to Gaiatrie while he looked out towards the house and his mind fell on Corsae.

”I gave my word to follow this path. And if I do not follow it…Corsae may take the blame…I fear for her wellbeing…”

It wasn’t love, but simple kindness that fuelled these words, though he did not think it necessary to explain this.

”…I would sooner sacrifice my happiness than endanger an innocent such as herself.”

He turned back to Gaia, his face now smeared with various shades of dye. “But my heart longs for our home…for our people…for our ways…”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Gaia watched him as he paced, battling with what she had just said. Once he turned back to her, she turned away, towards the large pot boiling on the cindery fire. She picked up a long-handled wooden spoon from the workbench before walking to the pot and lowering the utensil into the water. Her down cast eyes traced the curl of some of the contained errois bundles as they bobbed in the gently bubbling water. The shape she had contorted the stalks into was not unlike the position of a Child fetus in their mother's womb. She wished she could tighten herself up in a ball like that.

What she had said had been right but not right. Worst yet, it had not had the intended effect. They ate at her heart, causing the muscle to contract and beat her blood out faster, warmer. She attributed the feelings to guilt. "Of course," was all that she said.

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

---

The night had come, and Pithy was outside still pacing among the fields. He spent little time with Corsae. It was not unnoticed. In the time that he did spend with her, he was most pleasant, but not at all affectionate. Gentlemanly was the best way to describe his way with her. Polite yet unfamiliar. It was somewhat reminiscent of her own parents marriage. They seemed happy enough. She could be one day too. If he would look at her longer than to say, “Hello.”

“The meal was most pleasant,” she said, sweetly lying to her host as she had done after most meals. The food of Sargus Novis was not at all to Corsae’s liking, but neither was staying in a farm house. Despite her lack of preferences being met, she was managing somewhat.

Her sleeves were rolled up, and she had learned the hard way how to do this properly. This time she would not end the evening chores with wet sleeves. She was pretty sure that Gaia was no longer rewashing the dishes after Corsae had done the work already. Yes, she knew about that. She was not completely dense to matters of the home and hearth.

The tub for the dishes had dirty water now, and Corsae longed to scrub her hands, but she hid her revulsion the best she could. She would distract herself with conversation. A question had been just begging to be asked.

”It has become apparent to me that you and Pithy are not merely from the same town,” she said, in a non-accusatory fashion, though her prim approach probably held a natural tone of accusation, “you know each other…well? Tell me of his childhood…he speaks little of the past…never actually. The subject seems to carry pain.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Accusatory was not quite the right word. It did not indicate the accidental pain which it caused. Gaia felt as if a single grain of table salt had been placed in the wound on her heart that had been torn open yesterday. The pain was neither intense nor not, but sizzled gently if maliciously in her chest. Her breath caught quietly.

A fully-formed response filled her mind at once: his mother, bless her soul star, had died while giving him life; his father had only kept him because he did not wish for all of Idridri to turn against him and the rest of his family, but took little care of his youngest son, so Jestrista began whisking Pithy from that sad house to the farm; as he grew, he did most of Idridri proud by preforming at the top of his class in the local school although he had once caused some trouble on accident when he had launched a discus incorrectly when trying to learn the sport from Gaia herself; and on, and on, but she stopped listening to it.

She should have shared it but both the memories and associated words were much too heavy. Also, out of desperation to recover from the offense she had done Pithy earlier that day, she would not have felt right sharing the things that he wished to not speak about with his betrothed. Still, honesty with her was a necessity, so she said as calmly as she could, “You are lucky if you do not likewise feel pain enough about the past to drive words away. For, yes, he bears a wound in his lungs. I imagine that even the thought of its cause likewise causes his breath to go ragged. It is not your fault, Corsae. It…

“It was mine, not long enough ago for either of us to have forgotten, and continues to be. In such, I worry this is not the vacation he needed. Nor is this the answer you seek, rather advice: focus on making good memories of your shared present and future.”

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

Corsaeworked away quietly as she listened to what Gaiatrie had to say. Her mind and heart were anything but silent. She understood now. In some way, Gaiatrie and Pithy had been friends, but more so intended, or perhaps even openly in love. This was not the answers she had sought. She had thought maybe some childhood trauma, but having a broken heart due to his Sargus Novian farmer…that was unexpected.

She tried quickly to make sense of the past many days in context with this new information. It would take far longer than just this moment to reassess it all. She had to admit tough, that Anepithymitos showed very few signs of being love sick. It seemed more that this place was indulging his radicalism even more. Perhaps that was the effect that Gaiatrie was having on him. After all, it was clear to Corsae that Gaiatrie still clung to the religion of their ancestors. This was not surprising for as backward a place as the planet was, let alone the hovel of Idridri.

No ill will was felt towards Gaiatrie, but she was a threat to Corsae’s safety. This was all about self-preservation.

”Then his time on Chandrila has done him well,“ she said over her shoulder as she finalised her chore, “at least in that respect…I see very little of any wound that persists…merely an echo…fainter with each day.”

Corsae pulled a towel to hand and began to dry her hands with her task completed. She met Gaiatrie‘s eyes with an impassive gaze. “Perhaps you can share with me some more about his past, so I can know how best to honour him in my duties as his wife.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Since becoming master of this land, Gaia had become acquainted with all kinds of hard, manual labor that she had not done in the years prior. Even still, something about Corsae's gaze weighed heavier on the Child as the plow in the oxen's portion of the sheep shed, if she was to pull it across her largest field without his assistance. Her shoulders fell little by little until that aspect of her posture was visibly defeated.

As the onslaught of feeling verbally disciplined continued, a strong desire to do Corsae's will overtook her and she answered, "I do believe that the best action you could make would be to be encourage your father, or any man in your life with the importance alike one, to love him as a son or sibling." She felt possessed by Pylaris, unable to stop the words flowing from her throat, but maybe this advice was not a thing to stop. Pithy's best chance at finding happiness with Corsae was likewise finding some relationship on Chandrila that he had not been able to find here, on Sargus Novis.

"His father named him as he is, for he was unwanted by him."

Also by you.

She pushed the thought immediately away just for it to return as if by the sling of a small catapult. It ripped a hole in her gut, which she put a hand over as if that might lessen the somatic pain. "Excuse me, Corsae," she said, words willfully hers once more. "I have wounded myself." It was not a lie. "Thank you for your help and may you have sweet dreams."

With that, she left for the work shed.

As she neared the building down the dirt path leading to it from the farmhouse's back courtyard, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure the only being following her was Kolumbao. She looked forward again and, pulling her shawl around her wool peplos, she ran the last few feet to duck into the fabric-hung threshold. Through it, she fell to her knees, and then her hands, giving a small yelp that had little to do with the connection. Momentum and grief leaned her further forward until her forehead and a few face-framing tresses free of her nighttime braid touched to the dusty ground.

Kolumbao bounded to her side, pawing clawlessly at her exposed cheek, and then jumping away, ready to play whatever game this was. When the next sound she made was a choking sob she was trying to hold back, he laid down his ears and the rest of his body, and likewise whimpered.

Her hands braced on the dirt rose, reaching out to bury their fingers into the lynx-dog's thick, medium-hair fur.

His whimper gave way to a low, rumbling purr that she could hear loudly even at an arm's length.

“I..." she mumbled, "Earis..."

Any younger version of Gaia would not have prayed to a God at all, let alone when she was upset. But, now, she did just that, thinking the rest.

I will take Your punishment but I ask You teach me to do it more gracefully that this.

It did not have the intended effect, however: saving her tears. They began wetting the ground as Kolumbao's fur brushed against her face.

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

The days had lengthened. Not in actuality. If anything the days were shortening. But they felt longer. Less full. More empty space. Pithy did not connect this with Gaiatrie’s greater distance and even outright absence. He and Corsae were fortunate if they saw her for anything more than the evening meal. They were still well cared for at the morning and midday sups. What time had his old friend was getting up to insure their food was prepared? He did not know.

Something had changed. The air was still warmer, but the reception felt cooler. Even on this, the last day of their sojourn, Gaiatrie had been present at the morning meal, but had left hastily and with only brief parting pleasantries. Up until then, Pithy had been somewhat lost in his writings. He had given himself to constructing a manifesto for the preservation of the Children’s ways. Only now, words failed him.

”Pithy…”

Corsae nabbed his attention and mid fluster he realised she was awaiting assistance in climbing into the rickety old speeder carriage. She seemed offended to have to ride in it again, but at ease with their departure. Despite his awareness, he still required an additional glare to actually offer the assistance that was craved.

“Apologies.”

”What is distracting you this morning, Pithy? We simply must be going…”

“Oh. I just feel something is left unsaid.“

“To Gaiatrie? She hardly seems…interested…”

Pithy as looking towards the valley beyond the second rise. The stream where they had once played as children. They had built dams across the water, fought the increased pressure and played int he eventual torrent unleased by the breaking of their constructions. It was a pleasant memory. Yet, he had not been down there the whole time he had stayed on the farm. Why?

”We are going to be late…”

”No. No, we have packed faster than I had expected.”

“Where are you going?”

Pithy only then realised that he had started moving away. Corsae’s snippy, impertinent tone caught him off guard. She was standing in the speeder when he looked back at her. Her forehead was deeply furrowed. She would complain about it causing wrinkles later.

“I will meet you at the road.”

”Me…drive this…thing?”

”It is not hard…see…here…hands here…foot there…”

The impromptu driving lesson was stopped abruptly as Corsae swatted his hands away, put the speeder in gear, and began the journey to the road. Even as Pithy stumbled back and fell on his rear, he could hear her muttering something about Gaiatrie. He wasn’t sure why.

---

The water ran shallow. There had not been a lot of rain during their stay. Still, the sound of the gentle trickle of water was pleasantly melancholy to him. Rounding a bend, he saw a familiar colonnade, a familiar young woman sitting on its edge.

Clutching the small, brown leather bound journal in his hand, Pithy made his way along the waterside path. The path was just as worn as it always had ever been. He felt younger for being here. Older for the distant memories that seemed a lifetime ago.

She was looking down at the water. But he was sure she knew he was coming. So he stopped, nervously playing with the thread he had woven as a page marker in the journal. He felt a pit form in his stomach. Feelings emerged that he had long since thought repressed. He had once stood here. Years before. With another gift. One rejected. He felt, all at once, like that very small boy he had been that day.

”I…”

Did he almost cry?

”…looked to give you a gift upon my departure. It is a copy…not the original…but it is one of two…”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

It was very difficult to grow into this kind of grace, though she found fleeting solace each time she thought to herself that Pithy had found a manner with which to free himself of love for her that he had once sworn would never wane.

For his very presence, seeming apathic to her, spoke to the possibility, if only she could seize it.

Over the days since her confrontation with Corsae, Gaia had carried forth a tightness in her chest. A single, unexpected contraction of her heart had likewise affected her shoulders and neck. Not even working as hard as she could, both early in the kitchen and then all day long thereafter in the fields, could loosen her fascia fully.

She also found comfort it an untruth: that, if the heart was the muscle what little she knew of science told it was, rather than the source of philic humour, her condition was a simple function of being alive.

When he found her, she was sitting with her back slumped over her lap towards the ground. She did hear his approach—footfalls cutting clearly through the gentle babbling of the brook—but did not at first straighten up as the sun's rays spreading their warmth through her thin tunic. Once he began to speak, she began to rise. "You are too kind to me," she said quietly, eyeing the book in his hand. Volume was the only thing keeping her voice even.

Anepithymitos of Idridri

 

[Anepithymitos of Idridri]

“A kindness surpassed by your own from these past days,” Pithy said quickly with hand outstretched, book handed towards her. It was his manifesto. His heart for his world. His love for their Archaic ways. His gift to his friend.

“If this be found on me, when I return, it will not be well with me,” he said. His words were woven with a soft disallusionment.

“Metioch hath decreed I keep my word. Honour my vow. To my own pain, I leave Idridri today…”

He had wrestled these many days with what he should do. For indeed, his heart longed for this place, this people, this life. Did Gaiatrie understand this? Or was she upset for thought that her friend would dislike this world enough to depart again?

”…but with these writings. I leave my heart here. In your hands alone do I entrust such a burden. I am sorry for not…being able to give more.”

He stepped forward with one more step, pressing the book into her hands. He smiled softly.

“May Pylaris ever bind us, my friend. No matter what star I soon orbit.”

Gaiatrie of Idridri

 

[Gaiatrie of Idridri]

Her heart jumped as he bestowed on her his gift as if it might be transmitted through her palms, only for it to immediately retract when he invoked Pylaris.

Hold, Gaiatrie. Be strong.

It was not her voice in her head, but a motherly one she attributed to Earis. The One with the greatest heart had heard her prayer nights prior and was now answering. At once, Her wisdom washed over the farmer. Even if Pithy saw their relationship as nothing more than a friendship, nothing stopped her from holding him in higher regard—from loving him platonically and longing after the familiarity that she had been sorely missing from her life.

Still, the disappointment of his going, and lack of apparent reciprocation, would be deep bruise to bear, but, somehow, she knew that she would breathe deeply, comfortably, again.

She wrapped her fingers protectively around the leather and drew it into her lap, bowing her head in reverence both to her friend and the goddesses of love and friendship. "I will make an offering for your safe travel."

Then, she watched him leave, walking away towards and then over the crest of the hill towards where she knew Corsae to be waiting like the dutiful wife she would soon make for him.

~ * Fin * ~

Anepithymitos of Idridri