A Temporary Parting

An honor. That's what her visit to the Reliquary was. To be presented with such an endless sea of history and be given weeks to dive into its mystery. Shalia could not have asked for anything different. Finally understanding the ancient past connecting the Ozainae and the Odonine, the rise and fall of Fang's gods, even capturing glimpses into the lands beyond this place that she had only heard scattered talk of.
She could feel that Noraura was content with her knowing these things, too, through a subtle tingling sensation that washed across her body and mind when the information was presented.

In the weeks during her stay, she made it her task to pick up the basics of the Ozainae language through the guidance of her servants and the Ascendant himself when the opportunity was there. New languages had always been a skill of hers, and the native tongues in Arcadia were so beautiful and rich. Perhaps one day she would be lucky enough to hear them all.

Adventuring out into the city was her top priority, to experience its wonders even if it was a tad derelict in parts. She found herself with a nostalgic feeling at experiencing the trials and tribulations that came with being in a city again, memories of when she was younger and visiting Shrine-Cities with her father. A similar feeling to what she had at the Ihlara market, but stronger by multitudes.
Instinct kept her from wandering too far for too long even with protection. That creeping sensation like something was going to breathe down her neck present still, but when she turned only a guard was near and some citizens were going about their day at a distance.
Any one of them could wish her dead, scheming to bring her harm.

If she didn't have her magikal ‘sword and shield’ or diplomatic armor, would one of these unassuming mothers with their children, or the old man she saw selling fine fabrics, come out of the woodwork to exact some act of violence against her? Slit her guards throat, beat the foreign woman with rocks, kick in her ribs until her lungs bled? Abduct her like Islana?
Regardless of the answer, it did not take long before she returned back to the safety of her room. She would make due with examining and learning about building interiors as long as the outside felt like a shadowy hunting ground. Only short strolls and viewing wares around in the morning when the streets were less overwhelming. In doing so, she finally learned about those tapestries hung on her walls.

Mission accomplished.

That wasn't the only thing carried by the wind. Her guards reported hearing of something rather alarming: only a single walker of the Pilgrimage had made it into the city. Nothing like that had ever happened before. And knowing now the significance and history of it, tradition never broke itself for the Ozainae.

So what did?

~Does anything go according to plan anymore?~ This thought made her fear for the stability of the alliance and she now understood Tamazzalt’s urging toward securing it. Anything could happen at any time.

There was to be another meeting tonight for dinner. She and Tamazzalt had not done much serious talk, which was fine to Shalia. She needed this time to rest and recuperate her thoughts for what was to come. Instead, it was learning experiences, small talk, and getting to know each other.
She brought it upon herself to take a bath before the occasion--having taken quite a few throughout the duration of her stay-- and made herself up nicely for it. Well, as nicely as she could. Four smaller braids neatly wrapping around the back of her head and tied with her ribbon, the curls washed, combed, and left to frame her shoulders. Because she had been applying the body oil morning and night, her skin had healed, returning back to her beloved, soft, and pale complexion. It brought her joy to feel beautiful again.
She would wear a warm-toned robe with her banner amulet at the chest, having not used the scarf much beyond walking the city.

Shalia quickly came to enjoy the company of Tamazzalt. A great comfort in times like these that could be very lonely and unsure. She wondered if he felt similarly. Positions of power like theirs did not come with many friends and truthfully they were above such a concept. And yet, she missed the word for what it was; someone close to rely on and make your days better. Even before her time in Arcadia, such relationships were few and far between. Nothing much changed on that front--the same loneliness she was always followed by. Except her Arcadian longing had one glaring detail missing from her life before.

Shalia looked down to the ring as she rolled it between two fingers, but hesitantly set it down on the nightstand after placing a kiss upon it.

"I may do some things in the future that I don't want you to see," she said to the jade ring in soft Helian. "I'll come back for you this time, swear it, but I think you would understand. You are always so understanding…" Her green eyes trailed off but then centered on it again with a light scoff. "But I'm just a crazy woman talking to a ring like you can actually fucking hear me. Like you can see anything I do." Shalia chuckled at the absurdity.
She walked away and put her sandals on, and as she headed for the door, she looked over her shoulder to the ring again. “I love you, Jiyn,” Shalia whispered sincerely before leaving. To speak his name again...if only hers could be said back.

This was the first time in a while she had separated herself from the belonging, but if she wanted to clear her head for the future, she may want to start dividing the witch and the woman a bit better.

_________________________

When Shalia came to the balcony, everything felt off. What she presumed to be another private meal between her and Tamazzalt had instead included two others: Amastan and Agizul. They did not look pleased to be there, either. She momentarily noticed their behavior toward the Ascendant when they first arrived, but the tension had multiplied. Shalia almost felt awkward upon arrival, and she hardly ever felt that way about anything. But she knew tension. Her mind trailed to what she heard earlier when being seated, guards shooed away. Monastery servants muttering that The Wandering's history had been unexpectedly smudged.