Giving Away Candy

SUMMARY: Rona and Aya chat. Discussion covers candy, racism, rescuing people, overzealousness, Aya's departure from Charn, and Rona's search for her father. 

Yelrona is sitting cross-legged on a large crate sitting on the sidewalk. Next to her is a similar crate, open, tilted up to display its contents: small brightly colored packaging. A handlettered sign on top of the crate says "Free Candy: One Per Customer." From time to time, locals approach and take one, sometimes politely, sometimes not.

"Are you trying to fatten up the population, or perhaps bribe them?" Aya inquires of the Yelrona's wares. From behind Yelrona and without prior warning, of course. It seems to be her modus operandi.

Yelrona jumps about six inches in the air at Aya's appearance, startled, and then...

GAME: Yelrona rolls bluff: (15)+11: 26

...does a plausible and possibly (though probably not) even convincing job of not appearing surprised.

"More the latter than the former," she replies after a moment's thought. "Though I prefer to think of it as improving community good will. Also, the alternative was either that I eat the stuff myself, which would not end well, or that I sell it, which..." she shrugs, "honestly, it's worth little enough that I'd rather have the good will."

Aya dips her chin in a nod. "It sounds like you've made the most use of the situation. A bit of good will would probably be worth more than the few silver you otherwise might gain. Perhaps that is why we are so disliked here; we do not hand out sweets."

"Mul'niessa, you mean?" Rona asks. "There are probably other reasons," she says, "though not good ones. And honestly, if you tried something like this people would probably assume the candy was poisoned, or something."

"Yes, and I'm quite sure they -would- assume it was poisoned," Aya rolls one shoulder. "We would then be accused of attempting to murder the city's children, which wouldn't help matters at all."

Yelrona nods. "Yes. I'm sorry for that," she adds. "I have my issues with a good deal of Mul'niessa politics, but if we can't separate individuals from nations then I'm about half-human, which would surprise my mother."

One corner of Aya's mouth lifts. "Most Mul'niessa have issues with much of Mul'niessa politics, or Charneth politics, more specifically. There is little tolerance for error."

"Exactly!" Rona stews on that for a bit, then asks "How many do you think would leave, like you did, if they could do so relatively safely?"

Aya arches a brow. "I wouldn't recommend that any "leave" as I did. It was neither pleasant nor by choice. As for other means, I expect that any with the will to go elsewhere would do so, and have done so."

Yelrona nods. "Yeah, that's what I figured. And, I apologize... I didn't mean to dismiss your experience, leaving Charn. I know nothing of what you went through, of course, and can scarcely imagine." She pauses. "Though I'd be interested to hear about it, should you choose to share."

Aya considers a moment, then asks, "You are familiar with The Tyrant, yes? Especially now that they stage this ludicrous public opinion stunt?"

Yelrona nods. "As familiar as anyone not actually from there can be."

"The Tyrant believes that all things belong to Him, and their rightful place is groveling at His feet," Aya shares. "This makes His recruitment tactics rather ... blunt. If He or His faithful believe someone is worthy to join their ranks, then that is their fate. I had the "honor" of selection following an evening of food and drink with schoolmates and friends."

Yelrona nods slowly. Opens her mouth. Closes it. Listens.

Aya makes a somewhat dismissive gesture with one hand. "It seems that I drew interest when I rejected the advances of a classmate made bold with wine. When he persisted, I broke his nose." The corners of her mouth quirk upwards, briefly, then return to neutral. "I was never able to return home, taken to an underground fortress where I, and many other recruits, were to be trained. As you might expect, with titles such as Conqueror or Dominator, they were neither gentle nor forgiving instructors. Some didn't survive the first day... or night. It was impossible to determine."

Yelrona nods again. "Trained to...?" she begins, then shakes her head and makes a 'never mind, keep going' gesture.

"Those who were most compliant, and willing to convert, became priests, I believe," Aya rolls one shoulder. "The strong or aggressive became warriors of one type or another. I became an acolyte of The Single Chord: those who molded their own bodies into weapons for His will. It may well have been the most ...rigorous of the options I was never given. Of those who began in my class, so to speak, only three remained by the time that I left. Some lost the will to live. Some were willfull and defiant to their own end. Eventually, I had to make that choice for myself."

Yelrona nods. Though she was aware that such things were fairly commonplace in Charn, and elsewhere, Aya is the first person she knows to have experienced it personally. "So... what choice did you make?"

Aya's lips curl upward in a full smile. "The realization that I still truly HELD the choice was quite the epiphany, perhaps more than the choice, itself. I could submit and relenquish myself. I could be unyielding until I was punished to death. In the end, I chose to do neither. I chose to accept the situation, and make use of it. They wished me to learn, and so I learned. The alternative was death, and that was unacceptable. I did what they asked and answered as they wished me to, but I never submitted my will to His. In time, I proved myself worthy to leave the compound, to perform whatever tasks they sent to us. My last was to Dun Mordren, in the recent past. I took the freedom they granted me and kept it for myself."

Yelrona nods. She thinks about that for a long time before asking "What would you have done, do you think, if offered that freedom before you proved yourself worthy?"

"I would have taken it, of course," Aya admits, "but I could not rely on it to be offered. The Maugrimites would never choose to offer it, unless it was a deception and trap. My family, friends, and colleagues were never in contact, much less in a position to offer my release."

Yelrona nods. She's doing that a lot. "I guess that's the sort of thing I was thinking about, before, when I asked about Charneth who would take the freedom to leave, were it offered. But you're right, of course, that trust is a huge obstacle to be overcome."

Aya arches a brow. "My situation was not, so far as I know, wholly common. All in Charn are not captives, if that is your concern."

Yelrona chuckles. "Nor could we rescue all of them if they were. Still... I grew up in a temple of Eluna, and there was a preacher who would come and talk, every once in a while. He was fond of quoting a bit of scripture, I'm not sure where it comes from, to the effect that to save one life, is considered as though one had saved the world." She pauses, considering it. "Which, I'm sure you're thinking, is obvious nonsense. Which it is, of course, worlds are more than a single life. But just the same, individual lives are worth something."

"There is merit to aiding those in need of it," Aya agrees, somewhat, "but who determines who is in need or who desires aid? All choose the path they walk, and their place upon it, whether they realize it or not."

"Which makes it easy," Rona replies, smiling. "When the path I'm walking presents me with an opportunity to provide aid, that's where I provide it. Whatever put me on that path determines where my aid goes, and if I choose my own path, then I'm choosing who to aid."

Aya nods, perhaps returning the favor (though she tends to do so, anyhow). "What if your target does not wish it? Before you implied that you might venture to Charn to "save" the mul'niessa there. That would be no different that you approaching the citizens here, offering to save them from Alexandros.

Yelrona nods. "Agreed, consent matters. And agreed, citizens here who are trapped as you were, in situations not of their choosing which they would willingly accept an offer to be rescued from if they could trust the offer to be reliable, are just as deserving of rescue. Who have you got in mind?"

Aya rolls one shoulder. "No one in particular. It was just a hypothetical example. I only meant that some may be perfectly content as they are."

Yelrona nods. "Absolutely. And that would be ideal, that everyone be as they would be perfectly content to be. But you and I both know that that is not the world we live in." She thinks a bit, and continues "But I feel like we're arguing about this, and to be honest, I'm not sure why. I mean... if I encountered a woman in the same position you were, being trained by the Tyrant's forces, and I had a way out to offer her, would you counsel me not to offer her that way out? If she accepted it, would you counsel me not to follow through?"

Aya shakes her head. "Not at all. It's just that I've met many who are overzealous in their desire to resuce others from any opinions other than their own."

"Ah. _There_, I am right with you," Rona agrees, laughing. "I've met many of those, myself. And, to be fair, I suppose nobody thinks of themselves as overzealous in that way, and I certainly do have opinions about how the world should be, and I am willing to exert myself to make the world the way I think it ought to be. So, guilty as charged, I suppose. But seriously, what's the alternative? If I see someone drowning, I will try to get them to shore, because I think it's better for them not to drown. Of course I will. And if fear of being overzealous leads me to let them drown, instead, so much the worse for both of us."

She reaches into her crate and rips the packaging off one of the candy bars... which, it occurs to her, nobody has come to ask for since Aya has joined her. She scowls at that realization, and grabs a second candy to offer the monk.

"I suppose the question is," she says before popping the candy in her mouth, "how do we distinguish overzealous from properly zealous?"

Aya hmms softly. "I suppose that is a question that each must answer for themselves, in each situation? I prefer to keep to the obvious, myself."

Yelrona thinks about that. "So... hm. Yesterday, when the gobber with the dynamite entered the warehouse, you were concerned that it might explode, and that you might get hurt in the explosion, so you put some distance between you and the warehouse. Yes?" Her tone is entirely matter-of-fact. "I was also concerned that it might explode," she continues in the same tone, "and that people might get hurt in the explosion, so I investigated. I dare say that each of us was responding in a way that seemed obviously right to us. Was I being overzealous?"

"No," Aya shakes her head. "As you said, we acted as we thought best. Some might consider your choice foolish, or mine selfish. Others might feel the same were brave and prudent, respectively." A shoulder rolls. "It's all a matter of perspective."

Yelrona nods, apparently satisfied. "Well. Then I suppose I'll have to trust that, should the occasion arise to "save" some Charneth from their conditions there, that acting as I think best in that situation will be similarly..." she pauses, stumbling over a word, and blinks. "Does Trade even _have_ a word for <nonoverzealous>?" <syldaneri>

A corner of Aya's mouth lifts. "I'm not sure. I think that the closest literal translation would be 'not outrunning their feet,' but that leaves much to interperetation."

Yelrona laughs suddenly, quite a bit more than the comment deserves. "My father," she offers by way of explanation, "used to say, whenever we were threatening to," she giggles, somewhat girlishly, "outrun our feet, that <we are running very fast, and our boots are not laced>" <sildanyari>.

She seems suddenly lost in thought, and sad.

Aya arches a brow at the nostalgia. "What of your tale? Did you live in lavish luxury and arrive in Alexandria on a gilded carriage to the applause and adoration of thousands?" The sarcasm may be dense enough to see, but it is colored with humor, not harshness.

Yelrona chuckles. "Well, by comparison, kind of, yeah. Though to hear _me_ tell it, at the time, it was worse than the Sundering itself."

She shakes her head ruefully. "Seriously, though, I've had a pretty good life. I grew up in the Mythwood, in a town you've never heard of: Yves Namfadin <sweet spring>, about two weeks from here by foot. My mother was a Seer, high priestess of the Temple of Eluna... still is... and I was raised in the Temple. Everyone figured I'd take her place when she finally retired... _especially_ her." She shrugs. "Didn't work out that way. I... well, I fell in with the wrong crowd, I suppose my mother would say, and I declared for Tarien on my <ceremony when young Llyranesi do things like declare what god they follow>, and she pretty much stopped speaking to me. So I decided I was going to go find my father. Which is how I ended up here."

"Did you ever locate your father?" Aya inquires. "As for your mother, she sounds little different from mine, aside from her choice of deity. Always so many expectations..."

Yelrona shakes her head. "Not yet. I... I've been following his trail, as I can pick it up. He..." she looks vaguely off into the middle distance before continuing "well, I think he may have been corrupted by an artifact he was attempting to retrieve for the Acquisitioners. The Hand of Ilris... have you heard of it?"

Aya shakes her head. "No, though I'm not a student of antiquities. If it corrupts others, my guess is that it is anything but benign."

Yelrona nods. "I mean, that's what Avourel did, mostly. For the Acquisitioners, I mean, he retrieved necromantic and demonic artifacts so they could be safely contained, or destroyed. As I understand it, the Hand was designed to support summoning and binding demons, so even a non-spellcaster could do it. I've even heard that Asumit had the thing for a while, though... well, I don't know, rumors are rumors, you know how it is. Anyway, it was a big deal, and he left to go find it and bring it back." She gives a one-shouldered shrug that looks like it's trying to appear casual and is in fact on a whole different plane of existence. "And then he disappeared."

(Editor's note: Avourel Backstory