[PRP] An Omen of Healing (Nawiri'chiwa x Miramar)

[Uta]

The day wasn't at all unusual, with the pride well in to routine and Nawiri'chiwa no exception. The day had begun with a quick bite to eat and a brief meeting with the head healers and apothecaries; she had distributed duties, voice concerned, and took a note of the changes within the evening - who had survive and who had not. Afterwards it had been off to talk to the Viziers and see how Kiwi's training in to his position was coming along, followed by a brief meal, before she had gone to morning meditation and prayer. She paid homage to the Goddess of Pestilence before heading towards the heart of the pride, where the very sick were often stationed, and began her duties of healing and offering comfort.

This, of course, all before noon! Add a handful of questions, concerns, and demands from some of the more ornery in the pride, and one couldn't be surprised that she felt more than a little burned out come the afternoon. This was her life, this was her place, and the stress and anxiety was something she had to handle on a daily basis.

It wasn't easy being the queen, especially within this sort of atmosphere. Death was everywhere in the Kitwana'antara, from the bone yards surrounding the outskirts of the pride where many secret keepers resided, to those newly dead whose families were in mourning. Even during lulls of death, there were those who suffered under the knowledge that they could do nothing for those who DID have the plague, and those whom possessed it suffered physical ailments daily.

It was not an easy life within the Kitwana, but the lions and members coped as best they were able. This was their lot in life, but if the Goddess wanted to strike them down with disease, than so be it. More praises to her name, after all.

After a particularly brutal blessing of passage, an entire litter of six dead within days of one another, Nawiri took some time to herself. She separated herself from the heart of the pride, and moved closer to its borders, walking the edges and staring out at lands she would never see. This was as far as her paws would ever take her, as far as her eyes would ever see. Though there was always a little regret that tickled her heart and soul, knowing that many like her would sometimes wish for the shackles of suffering to be cast away, she also knew that they were doing the world a service. Their self-quarantine and restrictions were in place to keep the disease from spreading too far from these lands. This was an area to devote themselves to the will of the Goddess, and to abide by her will. Thinking too much of what one did not have wouldn't bode well for anyone. . .that was something they all learned swiftly.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the lioness walked near the borders. She was feeling particularly introspective today, and needed time to gather her wits and optimism. Hope for the future and living another day was all they had, and after seeing six faces that had been called to the Goddesses embrace. . .well. . . . it wasn't always easy to hope.
 

[Mimsey]

Miramar had received several warnings before he had taken on his new role. The first, was that he could not save everyone. Life, and by extension Mkodi, had a time and place for everything. Sometimes people died, both young and old. Fair and unfair. It was not his job to disrupt that balance, but simply guide it. The second, was to allow Amaret some concession. Give her a wide berth.

He had a problem with both of those warnings. What good was helping anyone if you couldn't try to help all of them? He didn't believe he'd succeed, but he believed in trying. And Amaret? Well, he knew her far too well to know that she could simply be allowed to do whatever she liked. Perhaps her daughter allowed her places to play. Miramar would allow no such thing.

When he had been a mortal doctor, he'd heard of this place. Like it was some sort of failure on the part of all healers everywhere. A terrible, tragic, thing. Even as he walked upon the lands he could sense the insurmountable pull of... something. Something dark, and something that didn't even feel as much like Amaret as he would have initially thought. She hadn't been here recently. Why did this plague still go on?

It was a curiosity of his, and something he planned to do something about. There was pain here, and he could feel it. But also danger. It was hard to tell if he was being watched or not. Keeping track of Amaret was like trying to grasp at smoke. Danger or not, he walked in upon the borders. Just placing his hooves upon the ground, and he could feel the earth reach out to him. As though the land itself was aching for relief.

He was in disguise, mostly because he didn't know the lions of this area. Religions could be hard to tamper with, and in the form of a buck he could at least seem passive. He was a rather stately looking creature in that form- a tall waterbuck with sweeping horns. As subtle as he thought he might have been, there was still something unnatural about him. He was far too bold to be a stag, and far too clean to be something mortal. He walked with the assurance of a lion.

The buck moved forward, testing the waters, so to speak. He could feel the prickly sensation of his opposite element, and exerted some force to push it back. A threat. Maybe a bit of a challenge. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect from this place, or what it held. But it seemed he wasn't about to go unnoticed for long.

A lioness was in the distance, striding along an invisible line which must have been the boundaries of the pride. His head raised aloft, ears flicking to either side of his large horns. He didn't stir, as a real creature might. Did not run or flinch from the threat of a predator. Instead, he rose one hoof and and bowed his head low. Hello, my lady.  

[Uta]

It was difficult not to notice the stag standing proudly in the distance, despite Nawiri's introversion and deep thoughts. First, the rich and warm color of his coat stood out among a dry and graying landscape. With the height of summer upon the Kitwana'antara's back, and the rainy season still months away, the color green had been burned and washed away due to the suns heat. The land, while still pretty with its hills and rich lake at the heart of the pride, wasn't exactly colorful this time of year. The rich crimson of the stags coat was pleasing to the eye, and yet, there was something more when it came to the figure.

It wasn't something Nawiri could place, other than a sense of something being off about the creature. The pride was known to be settled upon these lands, and most waterbuck males were territorial. It had been a long time since she had witnessed one of the creatures, dead or alive, and to see it stand with confidence was amazing. Part of the female wondered who the creature was. . . either way, he had a right to look proud. It wasn't as if Nawiri alone was much a threat, and in the open landscape, it was easy to see no others were around.

Honestly though, Nawiri'chiwa couldn't help but wonder what made this creature so unique. Perhaps he was a wise soul, or a familiar of powerful neighboring pride.

Maybe something else. . . Waterbucks had to have deities too, did they not? She knew of Gods, and had even met the God of Famine, as he occasionally visited to aid the suffering of those whom could no longer eat. But the rest of the pride were, as far as she understood, unaware of such tidings. Visits from immortals were incredibly rare, and Nawiri had never seen them in any form outside of lion. While the waterbuck was unusual and strangely difficult to look away from, it didn't occur to her that this creature might be more than it appeared.

As the red coated beast raise a hoof and lowered its head, incredibly formal but polite, Nawiri couldn't help but smile. She was used to formality from those within her pride, but to see such a polite waterbuck (especially to that of a lion) was amusing. Still, just because she was Queen, didn't mean that she had no manners. Dipping her own head low, she gave the creature a respectful bow her own. "Good afternoon, stranger." Wait.

Glancing back up at the waterbuck, a shiver running up her spine, it only then occurred to the lioness that he had acknowledged her. But. . . his mouth hadn't moved. What was going on? Surely she wasn't hallucinating or entering a fevered dream. Though she wasn't feeling well, she wasn't in such a broken state to be making this creature up. He was right there. . .
Despite her confusion, and uncertainty in this manner, she did her best to stand her ground and not show concern. If there was one thing the ruler of a diseased pride was good at, it was hiding ones true fears from others, especially when they demanded royalty to be strong and brave. "We don't often receive visitors, so might I welcome you to the Kitwana'antara."

If it seemed strange for a lioness to welcome a potential prey beast on to their lands, it wasn't. Not here, at any rate. Non-lion creatures were always welcome and though they did not have any herbivores offering aid for protection, it . . . wasn't necessarily impossible. Any help was better than none at all. Ever polite, there was no need to treat this creature any differently. . . .even if . . . .even if she had to wonder if she was going crazy.

((If his italics greeting was just a way you RP, let me know. << I assumed that without quotation marks, this was a way to show he was speaking telepathically. If I assumed wrong, I can adjust my post accordingly no problem!))
 

[Mimsey]

(( Yep! I don't think he knows how to make words a lion would understand as a waterbuck. ))

Miramar rose his head, giving a pleasant shake of his antlers. It was compelling to receive a warm welcome, particularly from a member of a pride under such duress. To think! It gave him a bit of confidence, and he strode forward. He could do this. How could a pride with warm welcomes be needed to be kept at bay? They suffered needlessly. Why hadn't the previous goddess done anything to relieve them? Had she been so afraid to intrude? Surely there was nothing natural about the ailment of this land.

As if in thought, he swung his head to the sky. He still felt nothing, but yet...

The stag's tail flicked upwards, and he resumed his gentle pace towards the lioness. He felt a pulse. She was unwell. His ears flattened against his head. Why had this been allowed to happen? He admired Amedia greatly, so he could not believe it was a simple matter of coldness of heart. Something had warded her from this place. But whatever it was... was it still there? Was it even Amaret, or something else? As he grew closer, some of his natural energy started to pull at the tired earth. The grass seemed a bit greener where he stepped. And as he neared, the lioness might begin to feel a sense of strength returning. It was a compulsive reaction to the air around him.

Thank you, he resounded politely. He struggled to try and sound noble. Like the kind of creature he imagined mortals wanted a god to be. This land, it is your home? I wish to help, if I can.

He stopped a few lengths from her, his posture lofty. I sense much pain here, and I... his head drooped. He had a hard time thinking of what the wise thing to say was. He didn't exactly want to just brazenly run around magicing the hell out of the place. Subtly, he reminded himself. Less a chance of scaring them, and less a chance of attracting attention.

His antlers shook. I know very little of this place, except for how it feels.  

[Uta]

Nawiri'chiwa watched as the stag drew close, trying desperately to figure out who or what he might be. She was glad that no guards or warriors were around, especially some of the more closed minded individuals. A talking waterbuck . . . and one that spoke without the physical use of words or its jaw! Honestly, Nawiri had to wonder if perhaps she was just seeing things. . . . .

But then the creature spoke again. It was slowly bridging the gap between the two of them, pausing now and then to look up at the sky. More and more Nawiri wondered what sort of spirit or god had sent the creature, and for what purpose. Her eyes watched as the grasses of the earth seemed to perk up wherever her stood, and she noticed clearly how the aches in her joints began to wane, and a sense of rejuvenation return to her. She felt better than she had in awhile, and . . . it scared her.

"Who are you?" The words came out before she had a chance to stop them, and she dipped her head, giving it a shake. "Forgive me, sir, for I mean no insult but . . . you appear to be something more than simply a waterbuck." She smiled gently, taking a few steps back away from the border, welcoming him to draw closer to the land if he dared.

"I am Nawiri'chiwa, queen of the Kitwana'antara, and yes . . . these lands have been the only home that we know." There was pride in her words, and an obvious affection for her pride and its members. Though they suffered a rough lot in life, it was what it was. For as long as she had lived, disease was the way of the pride, something to be respected, feared, and dealt with. There was no changing their fate, after all, as the horrors of their past were still fresh in mind.

"There . . . there is pain and suffering among this pride, it is true," the grey lioness quietly admitted. She knew not who or what this creature was that she was speaking to, but like all guests, they deserved to know what sort of land they stepped upon. It never occurred to Nawiri, even with the return of strength, that she was speaking to the god of Healing himself! "You see, most lions within this place suffer from a wasting and fatal disease, myself included." She spoke not with pity or fear over what this creature might think, though there was a shadow of regret and sadness that dimmed her gaze. Though they were touched by disease, and it was something all within the pride accepted, it still was a grievous burden to wear. "Though some of our members are ill, it is spread only through saliva and blood, and doesn't appear to infect non-lions. We take the utmost care to make keep the most ill quarantined, and welcome all visitors." Waterbucks included.

The speech was nothing new to Nawiri, though she wondered how this creature might respond. Who or what was he, she knew nothing about, but he was welcome. All were welcome, for the most part. . . . He seemed harmless enough, for being something different, and he did give the appearance of wishing to help.

But help what? The land? Their suffering? Their plight? While the pride needed healers and compassionate souls to ease what suffering they could, she had to wonder what this creature might offer. The goddess of Pestilence reigned supreme on these lands, after all, and it wasn't easy walking the thin line of caring for others and committing blasphemy in her name. Unfortunately for Nawiri, she was inadvertently performing the latter, big time.
 

[Mimsey]

This lioness was the queen? He was struck by her honesty. Particularly when he was such a strange thing, and she, seemingly without guard. Graciously, he dropped his head a second time, bending his leg and touching his horns to the soil. He held the gesture almost reverently, before returning upright. I could not be in better luck then. I am honored to meet you, your majesty. He might have been a god, but he'd never met a queen. Not even in his days following his mother's shadow as she went from pride to pride.

Something more? Miramar mused. No more than a queen, my lady. My name is Miramar.

A fact which held some truth to him. Miramar had been a mortal once. His duty as god, to him, was unremarkable. A side effect of a job. An extension of himself. An opinion which wasn't earning him many close friends amongst the scattered pantheons, no doubt. As if struck by that thought, the stag craned his head back towards the sky. Nothing yet. No sign of any resistance or trouble. The disease here did not harm him, but he could feel it all around him like pins and needles. It made his flanks quiver with the need to move and do something about it.

But his moment's distraction quickly dissipated once she started talking symptoms. It was a bit difficult to keep up the stately facade, and not immediately start babbling the various herbal remedies a mortal doctor might prescribe. They were past that point, he reminded himself. They didn't need a doctor. It is a strange thing... he said. For a sickness to last so long without rest.

Unnatural, even.

Even with a quarantine, it spreads? Miramar asked. I do not know how to sense time with such things. But it feels long. The air is heavy here, like a burden. Something ill at ease and not right.

For a moment, he broke face and flattened his ears awkwardly. Not that I mean any disrespect to your home, of course.

Encouraged, Miramar dug his hoof into the soil, as though he was locking himself into that place on the earth. He was a noble sort, if not a bit naive. At that moment, he felt a bit like he was about to walk through fire. But it would work. I have come to help. He said again, as if it was more of a reaffirmation than anything. I am a healer. And I dare say I do not know a better one.

He was also a bit bold. Amaret would have noted [should she have been listening, and likely was], that she found that most amusing.  

[Uta]

Nawiri usually wasn't quite as forward about her title, as she didn't like others to focus much on her rank. She actually hated the formalities that often came with such a name, and did her best to dismiss such homage when she was faced with it. Nawiri much preferred to see herself as a healer and dedicated member of the pride before she looked at her title. They were all equal in this pride and suffering just the same. . . just because she inherited extra responsibility didn't mean a damn in the grand scheme of things.

But this wasn't an ordinary meeting, regardless of how Miramar might have downplayed his role. He was speaking telepathically, after all, and if that wasn't considered strange she'd call herself a monkey's uncle! Besides, it was difficult not to get a sense of the unusual around the crimson coated beast - the grasses really did seem to brighten beneath him, and she herself was feeling rejuvenated. He might not claim to be something extraordinary, but Nawiri couldn't help but be suspicious.

At the bow of the waterbuck, the lioness couldn't help but chuckle some and shake her head. "No Majesties or Highnesses needed here, I promise. Nawiri is more than fine. . .We're all equals on this land, or so I like to stress, even if I was granted some select responsibilities." It didn't make her mightier or stronger or better than any one, thank you, no matter what her Viziers thought. The pride couldn't survive if titles gave way to conceit or arrogance, so Nawiri did her best to dismiss such a thing. Pride and vanity had no place mixing with power.

As the waterbuck looked around, sniffing the air, Nawiri's ears pricked with curiosity and concern. She still didn't know what the creature was capable of, though a small part of the lioness felt torn on what to feel. Already he was speaking of the illness as if he were familiar with it, as if he knew there might be something more to it. It both frightened and intrigued her.

"You are free to speak freely," she quietly assured, watching his every move. "The plague has been here for as long as our historians can remember. Not every lion falls ill, but those who do . . . . suffer. It is a reminder to stay pious and to never forget our heritage. We suffer for as long as the Great Goddess wishes it." While the pride had lost the history of its true roots, time had twisted the reality of the situation. The pride had never truly been cursed (or blessed) by Amarat, but due to a series of unfortunate events as well as their religious beliefs, it was as good a reason as any.

Another reason the disease seemed to thrive was due to the prides need to survive. They brought others in and allowed the infection to spread. To restrict breeding or an allowance of outsiders would be suicidal, and to willingly choose death and kill those whom showed sign of disease was blasphemous. The Kitwana'antara had fought and sacrificed too much to allow their entire community to be destroyed.

The waterbuck admitted to being a healer and Nawiri couldn't help but smile. "Then you are in good company, as I am a healer as well. Though I will admit, I have yet to master the art of a refreshing aura." As the words exited her lips, she only began to think about the implications. Once again, she felt a sense of dread strike her, some sort of guilt. . . There were those who had been known to worship the Goddess of Healing. The numbers within the pride were small, but there was a great fear that was associated with such a name and belief. While the pride supported many healers to care for those who fell sick, the disease was fatal and without cure; the healers made those lives as comfortable as possible, but ending the disease or cursing the name of the Goddess of Pesitlence was blasphemous!

Nawiri had witnessed first hand what had happened when the pride had forgotten its roots and lost its devotion to the Great Goddess. They had lost their way and had suffered great losses - even now, the pride was far from recovered. Was this waterbuck somehow affiliated to such a goddess? Was he perhaps the goddesses familiar or a devoted high priest?

. . . . For now, she kept her eyes and ears on him. She didn't wish to offend, or accuse, but the longer he stayed the more uncertainty and doubt gnawed at her heart. Nawiri wouldn't turn him away quite yet, it was possible he was nothing more than a great healer or shaman, one who had spiritual connections or truly just had a way of relaxing those around him. She couldn't jump to conclusions without fact . . .

So she'd bide her time and wait. Surely she was just over-reacting.
 

[Mimsey]

Miramar seemed lost in thought. It attacked some, but not others. And yet it still held on! For how many generations? He wasn't sure what baffled him more: that nature was able to sustain such a thing for so long, or that no other god had ever interfered here. At least for the betterment of the pride! There was something peculiar and unnatural about it all. It made him stamp his hooves in frustration.

The honest nature of the queen made him feel a bit bad for coming in disguise. Even if he had done so with the best of intentions. Even when he had been a mortal, judging the reactions of others had never been his strong point. He was either too naive, or too withdrawn to really get a grasp of the common person. It is good to be in like company then, he said. Miramar lowered his head, his antlers dipping. Another healer, and the queen! Perhaps she would understand what he had come to do then. I'll confess that some of my talents are not quite learned... so much as done. Or as Amedia would have put it: not so much magic, as influence.

I came because I think I can help where others have not. You are bound by only what you can do. The stag lifted his head. I do not share the same boundaries. There are some, of course. But not the same.

He took a few long strides forward, as if he was thinking to himself. His tail flipped upwards. In the end, he was still a bit naive. You mentioned a great goddess. Does she come here?

And for what purpose.  

[Uta]

Just as Miramar was attempting to figure out the workings of the disease that plagued the pride, Nawiri was trying to piece together the stag. Never in all her life had she witnessed such an unusual creature. The more the stag spoke with her, the more the lioness couldn't help but suspect that he really was something else. Something just a little bit . . . supernatural.

While part of the lioness was flattered that such a spiritual being might walk their borders, at the same time, she worried. The pride had enough trouble without outsiders interfering. And while she appreciated the concern and this others desire to help . . . well . . . . part of her worried what their patron goddess, Pestilence, might think. She knew not Amarat's real name, and even if she did know of it, wouldn't bring herself to speak it. Their mortal tongues were unworthy to blaspheme their goddess in such a way. . . .

Yes, occasionally other gods did visit the pride, but Pestilence was unique. The goddess didn't have to visit or show herself, for she touched the pride daily. It was a great honor to be called away in death through disease, but it wasn't always easy to live with such a fate. While the healers did what they could to ease conditions, finding a cure had long been scrapped. To do away with the disease would be to do away with the Goddess. . . .

And her wrath was great.

So the Kitwana'antara, essentially, was a bit misguided in their beliefs. As time went on, the founding pride members had given up belief in a cure or containing the illness. And from their folly, their religious beliefs followed. . . There was never a time in the past that the great goddess wasn't worshiped , or so the prides historians and priests might claim. Funny really, how Amarat didn't have to do a damn thing and yet her popularity within the Kitwana'antara was legendary.

She was sacred.

" . . . I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure what you mean. As far as the disease is concerned, it is what it is. It has been with our pride as long as any of us remember, and while it isn't always easy to live with . . . it is something we accept. It is the mark of our goddess, a blessing upon us as her chosen." While an outsider might look on Nawiri as being more than little insane, religion was a deep part of their pride and the worship of Pestilence was not something taken lightly. "As for Pestilence herself I . . . I have only heard of her through rumor and legend. I have not yet been blessed by her physical presence, but I know she hears our prayers and accepts our worship." Nawiri'chiwa was also well aware that she witnessed their failures. . . .

Too many had lost faith, too many had turned away from Disease curing disease . . . .and had attempted to call out for healing instead. But the results (even without the gods themselves meddling in their affair) had been disastrous and it only made sense to believe themselves reprimanded. Reforms had been made . . . .and it was Nawiri'chiwa's job to makes sure their loyalty never again wavered.

 

[Mimsey]

A- a blessing? Miramar was horrified. That sounded like the kind of thing Amaret would say! He was all at once lost for words. But not because there weren't any. It felt as though his mouth was cluttered with them, desperately trying to string them together into one coherent plea. You worship her? He finally uttered out in shock. His hooves pulsed against the earth. How could they approve of her cruelty? How badly had she mislead them?

He took a deep breath, trying to sort his thoughts. How could he describe her? Hadn't he once been a mortal, easily mislead by her wiles? It shouldn't have surprised him. She wasn't like any woman he'd ever met. Her powers, both as an individual and goddess, were great. The goddess- the one you speak of...! Surely you don't... He was floundering. She's not like that at all! You must listen to me.

The stag took a long stride forward, looking about as if he was being faced with the goddess herself. He tried to settle himself a bit and be logical. Gods don't always know what's best for others. Amaret more than most. She's no greater than you or I, and you owe her no such reverence. If it is true that she cursed these lands, she did so because she is cruel. She has no sense of what is right. No love for anything beyond herself.

It's my job to protect mortals from beings like her. I will fix this, to the best of my abilities. He dropped his head low.

 

[Uta]

((Sorry for the delay!))

This meeting had been most peculiar. While she didn't entirely trust the stag standing before her, at the same rate Nawiri wasn't entirely sure what he was, or his intentions. He wasn't exactly being forthcoming, but to meet a stag that could speak without use of his tongue . . . it was . . . most peculiar!

Unfortunately, his response to their Great Goddess was enough to unnerve Nawiri. She rose to her paws and retreated a step, ears tail flicking in confusion as he seemed appalled by her answer. Was it so surprising that they gave reverence to the goddess of disease? Certainly their life wasn't blessed with good fortune when it came to health, but generation upon generation had always looked to the goddess for approval. Asking Nawiri or any within the pride to do other was blasphemous, and they had already witnessed the result of turning from their faith.

More disease. More death. War. Strife. A loss of life that nearly decimated the pride and took them all to extinction. Perhaps Nawiri'chiwa herself might have been more inclined to Miramar's offer had they not recently witnessed the wrath of Amarat. (Or so they believed it to be. They could never and would never know it was just a series of misfortune.) So to have someone suddenly speak so terribly of the goddess, to defile her name on their territory!

No.

No, Nawiri'chiwa would not suffer through the same fate as her mother! She would not risk unparalleled catastrophe because of this other. Heaving a breath, the lioness rose to her paws and gazed upon the stag. "You misunderstand," she began, slowly, quietly. "The goddess is great. I have met other gods that have walked these lands, and whether they demand reverence or not, they will receive it. A mortal is nothing compared to the powers of the gods, and whether you agree to such a thing or not is your own choice. I have seen with my own eyes the things they can do; I have heard stories, and been told of many times where the gods have intervened."

"I don't expect you to understand our belief. I have never met the Great Goddess, though I still give her my worship. She chooses who she will bless, she chooses who she calls away. We suffer for our lack of faith, our blasphemous tongues, for the foolishness of our ancestors in the past. When our penance is paid in full, only then will we be rid of her mark. But until then, no one can change what has been, what is, and what is to come."

Glancing down, averting her gaze, the dual eyed female added, "I don't expect you to understand but we give ourselves to her willingly. There is nothing to protect. Not everyone possesses her mark. Not every face is wrought with grief or pain. There is happiness here, traditions to be kept, families who find joy in the time they are granted. Life is only now finally beginning anew.

"There were many who worshiped the . . . the goddess of healing. And we suffered. Oh, how we suffered. Such a thing will never be forgotten nor happen again. If you know of this other, this . . . this one of healing, please, return to her. Our land is not to be some battlefield of the gods. We have long since chosen our side, we have suffered her wrath; we will not be so weak of faith again."


((I feel kind of bad. Nawiri sounds more insane than those in the Kzingo'zaa. << ))