Getting Serene to wax poetic.

It's Korday, Eatonis 26 22:57:03 1006. The full moon is up. The tide is low and slack.

A cool breeze blows from the west, driving dark clouds before it which blot out the stars in patches overhead. Elsewhere they glitter brightly in the dark sapphire sky.

He has a shovel, Darshan does, and it's slung over his shoulder. His expression's also curiously happy; the sith could whistle, had he a monkey's lips, but for now, the tail's up, the end of it just curled, his chin up in that same way, and a near-bounce to his step. He hums as shoves the shovel into the earth in Sandy's lawn.

"Darshan," says Sandy, curiously, "What are you doing down here?" She taps her fingers against her arm. "You are supposed to be fixing the roof. And the hole you put in it."

"Mrm..." he says, and keeps digging. "One is," he says after a time. He looks up at her, just as he puts a foot to the shovel, and rocks the spade-head into the softened earth. "Mrm, one just has an errand to run, mrm, first."

"Fix the roof, Darshan," says Sandy, annoyed, "or else I am going to smack you around. A lot." She jabs a finger at him, seeming annoyed.

"Mrm, then you'll have a very disappointed Ganesa on your mrm, hands. Do you want that?" he asks, Darshan does. He yanks the shovel from the earth, and turning, drops the load into the back of a wheelborrow. And back again. "This is for her garden--she's trying to grow a...mrm...thing," the last is said vaguely, with a waggle of claws back and forth in a back and forth animation.

"Why," announces Serene's presence as she comes out into the courtyard.. tone indicating a distinct lack of amusement, "is my bedding and floor wet? I already know the answer to this.. would you like to know, Sandy?"

"It's all his fault!" Sandy very quickly points at Darshan. "His fault!" She points again, stomping her foot. "He blew a hole in the roof!" She turns a glare on Darshan again.

"The mrm, roof was only over your workshop, m'lady. I'm afraid...one knows very little of damage to the roof over Lady Serene's. If there was...I am very sorry, m'lady," to Serene, that part. "It was surely not intended." He glances at Sandy, back again. "Perhaps mrm, it could have been Rana. She'd escaped there not so very long past."

Serene's eyes narrow just a fraction... as Sandy attempts to shift the blame to Darshan, so does the dark skinned paladin's gaze shift. It doesn't linger there for long, however. "Do you have any idea what it is like to spend a week on the road, looking forward to a bed for a change.. only to have that hope dashed away because the roof over your bed has finally decided to.. stop.. working?"

"Oh, like I ever go into your room. How the fuck was I supposed to know it was drenching your bed?" Sandy scowls at Serene, "Now that you've reported this, I will set Darshan to work fixing it right away. In the meantime," she adds, "Serene, you should teach Ganesa about how to be a paladin. I think she'd find it very interesting." She smiles at Darshan.

Oh, low blow from the elf!

"Mrmmm...it could mrm, be less dangerous than her becoming an artificer," Darshan says solemnly. "The profession has a long and dangerous history of defying the gods," he shoves the shovel into the earth, lifts it. "Such a thing is likely to be frowned upon among the Myrrish," he lets go a breath, and there the shovel goes again. Overturns. Deposits earth into the mechanical carrying device. "...mrm. And perhaps, having me upon the roof would be a terrible idea. One is likely to fall through."

Serene raises her hands to either side of her head and begins to lightly massage the sides of her temples with the first two fingers of each, eyes closed. "Perhaps we should look into hiring people to fix it professionally, Sandy. Along with the rest of the manor. How long ago was it when you first purchased it? And it still looks like a vampire's den?" The hands drop and her eyes open. "And I will not teach Ganesa the ways of a paladin unless I am given reason to believe that it is something she wishes, from the heart. Not everyone has the will to become a paladin."

"Why not fall through the roof? A lot of things you do 'fall through', Darshan," says Sandy, in sweetly mocking tones to the lizard. She points a finger at Serene, "Ganesa is eight, Serene. I suspect she'd be enthralled by the stories of you killing eight giants with a single blow." She casts a glance from side to side, as if expecting the girl to come out of nowhere at any moment.

Because, of course, Sandy DID tell her that Serene can kill eight giants in a single blow.

"M'lady has made some mrm, suggestions. She has a...she has a number of...people who make things look...pretty?" Words, words. The sith waggles his claws, indicating 'something over there' in terms of concept, and then goes back to digging. "One is sure she could give recommendations. She may be delighted to do so," he glances at Serene, "Especially were the request to come from one of the gods' Holy Warriors. The Daughter has no little weight with the Myrrish."

"And if killing giants is something that interests her.. perhaps she should talk with Rawsone, or Zak." Serene scowls, then points a finger at Sandy. "You KNOW that killing monsters is not what a paladin is about. And you," the finger shifts to Darshan, "If Ganesa, of her own volition, wishes to learn of paladins.. and if, for some reason, you are indisposed since you would be as fine a teacher as any.. then I will will make myself available. Being a paladin is not something that can be forced. You either are.. or you are not."

"Of course not, Serene. But she's a child. She's going to focus on certain.. pieces of the story and what's fascinating to a child," says Sandy, "It's like thinking artificery is all explosions." Wait, it isn't?" "And no, it's not," she gives them both a look.

"Mrm..." the sith's tail flickers, and he looks thoughtful, worried for a while. "Perhaps, m'lady. I often wonder. A paladin is a thing of faith, but also of tradition. Instinct, too, muddies the water. A paladin from a different race is a paladin who is a different creature. I wonder that there is a universal measure." The tail flick-flicks again, and he bends to add more dirt to the pile. After eyeing Sandy. Because she's probably up to something. And he does snort at the last, looking well... "It does make armor," as though that were its sole, redeeming quality.

No entry for 'would like, if the priests give permission, to speak with the aged father and find what had gone on. who was the masked man, and what did he hold against him? he's interested in the history between the two, because well, there seemed to be one!'.

"The core of the paladin is the same." It is clear that Serene is unbudging in this regard. "And it is not at all about killing giants. As you said, she is a child.. and if all that attract her are explosions and monster slaying there are better people for her to talk to than I."

"And if a paladin's instinct says to him, that this creature is better slain with tooth and claw rather than blade or sword? What are the consequences? A tooth and claw are for eating, a sword for another. It implies one thing over the other, m'lady," Darshan kicks the shovel into the dirt, and lifts another cup of it upwards and into the wheelborrow. "Mrm, one fought a giant, and in the frenzy, one fought not to eat him as well. A human mrm, tells me later this is natural, it is an instinct," he lifts a claw, shakes it in her direction. And another shovel of dirt is produced. It partly covers up the sound of something being knocked over. A set of boxes. But that's still far away, and towards the house.

"Oh," says Sandy, annoyed. "Great. A philisophical discussion." Her hand goes up to her face. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I think she just wants exciting stories, Serene," she replies. "Which is why I told her you were full of them." A winning smile.

Serene frowns at Sandy. "It would not hurt for you to spend the occasional moment reflecting on the things you do. Perhaps it would lead you to discover why you prefer to live in a house that is falling apart." She turns the frown on to Darshan. "You are confusing the will with instinct. Many people, sith'makar or not, oftend find themselves in damger of falling prety to baser instincts.. to feed, to kill. I have seen humans fall to bloodlust, so enraged they killed friend and foe alike. This is not the will of a paladin. The will of a paladin is the drive to do whatever needs to be done to make things right. The divine powers we are granted is secondary to this Will. A paladin does the things she does regardless of her faith, or her powers." Serene smiles tightly. "All of this would be, I am certain, a great bore to an eight year old child."

"Perhaps," he says, and Darshan tilts his head. The tail flickers back and forth, curling at its tip and hitting the ground again. "One does not often hear of humans having instincts. To us they are...blind, softskinned, and blunttooth'd. They are as helpless children without their weapons, or some other training. Metal knives to replace things that nature never mrm, gave them, hides that give to bugs and redden beneath a sting. It seems that the tradition such a race has for their paladins would be vastly...different. Less aggressive. If one were to repress one's instincts...I see this as difficult. They must be mrm, channeled. But a sith'makar cannot be a human. They must be a paladin in a different way." He turns somewhat, and chucks more of the dirt into the wheelborrow. Near the house, something else falls over. There's a squeak.

"I enjoy fixing things," says Sandy to Serene, "That's why I live in a house that's falling apart. And there was nothing wrong with the roof. I fixed that until SOMEONE PUT A HOLE IN IT," she gives Darhsan a look. a LOOK. She jabs a finger art him and then moves over to Serene, aiming to bump her in the side with her hip. "It wouldn't do *you* some harm to spend some time with a child. You might even crack a smile."

"There are layers, Darshan." Serene glances towards the house, even her poor hearing picking up the latest crash. But things are always crashing in Sandy's house so she pays it little more mind. "On the surface, a noblewoman appears very different from a peasant woman. But if you strip away the items of rank.. the clothing, the styles, the scars, the callouses, you will find two women. The Orc paladin has an aggressive nature as well. But underneath the aggressionn, the instinct... the core of the paladin is the same. To attempt to set yourself apart simply because you are of a different people, Darshan, is dangerous ground to tread upon. The traditions may be different between peoples... certainly different between yours and mine.. but traditions are trappings just like clothing." Then she scowls at Sandy. "I am not a baby sitter. Do not think I do not see your schemes."

"I do not scheme," sniffs Sandy, haughtily.

"To act as a human is to slowly implode," he tells her. The sith's eyes flash, momentarily, the form stiffening before it relaxes again, a loose relaxation that lets the head fall forward. "To put on refinements, to walk around the barn and say, 'this is not food,' when a horse is exactly this thing. ...it is more than humanity, m'lady. Ask a race which is incapable of killing how /they/ would function, or one whose natural attack is, naturally, to digest a thing. What do they do on taking on an evil overlord?" The sith's voice is labored and sad, and he looks that way, too. Another tumbling noise, and a small child topples out of a doorway, as well as a number of items and boxes.

"They would find a way to do what they knew was right," Serene answers immediately. "Once again you are missing the core, Darshan. The methods of paladins will differ. The perceptions of paladins will differ. To be a paladin you do not have to be human, or try to make yourself human. A paladin is not some knight in a castle who must follow obscure rules of court etiquette. Do I look like a knight to you?" Serene pauses, perhaps to think, watching the spectacle at the doorway.. she makes no move towards the child. "Perhaps you are finding the lines blurred between being a paladin and functionining in a human society, Darshan. You are associating one with the other. Keeping yourself from eating a slain foe is a human thing.. not a paladin thing."

"Then one needs your help," he says, still sadly. "One does not deny there are /laws/, or /rules/...I merely propose that they are different, and that for a paladin to function...m'lady, we must abide by some Code, or we are no better than Chaos. And that mrm, Code must be explored, understood, and written down. I have no noble blood in me. Just hunger, and anger, and a different sense of what is 'right' and what is 'wrong' based on what my body says it needs and what my culture says is right. I have to find ways to translate these to Daeus' Universal Truths, mrm, for my people, and take these words back so they, at least, may understand them, and learn their application...and should I choose words that strike against them, m'lady, they will rebel against Daeus himself. If I tell them horses are not food...they will look at they as though I am mad. Yet, if I tell them respect for one another's /property/...mrm, then the concept is accepted. It is given as Truth.

"But who are the teachers of such a method? The longer I stay here, the more apparent it comes to me that /humanity/ is in /error/. What is more truthful, m'lady? The words and tradition of a race which wears the skins of others, and dances with them under the moonlight, with borrowed skins over nub-filled hands, to lend them what nature would /not/ give? Their words are flawed. So are the words flawed of a race who has no true birth or place in the world, but whose first memories, /traditions/ were mrm, from slavery, and their blood is of the dragons...but not the good dragonspawn, m'lady. Not those kind at all, if you would see the color of my scales. /Their/ traditions are flawed, and yet...these are very different people, with very different souls, and gifts. They must have different laws, but similar ones...ones that work for them, and channel cursed gifts into the power of Redemption."

Near the house, the child stands up, and straightens. She frowns a little, surveying the area around her and brushing at her dress, which now has mud, grass upon it.

"We will talk of this later, Darshan. Be certain of it. Now, I am afraid, is not the time," Serene says, eyeing the child. "Sandy.. I believe someone wishes to talk to you. And perhaps Ser Darshan as well. I must take my leave. Thanks to the mildew and mold growing on my bed, I must find new bedding. If you will both excuse me." And then she's gone! Just like that!

Serene has disconnected.

When Serene leaves, Sandy points a finger after her. And laughs.

Darshan looks over at Sandy, the tip of his tail lashing. And the he walks over to the little girl, heads that way to pick her up. She looks up at him, arms folded and her small features scowling. "You're /late/," she says. Never a promising opening.