Standing near the altar is the incarnation of 'freezing cold'. Giada stands near the altar, tightly wrapped in a thick cloak and watching as Lagoma's acolytes light the two braziers in the middle of her location of choice. Blessedly, that location has some shelter from the wind. As people start to filter in, she sneaks a hand out from the aforementioned cloak to motion people over. Poor Lycene. "Good evening, good evening," she greets. "This way or I really will turn into an icicle."

Klavdiya, who is definitely a handmaiden and not a pirate, Fluffy, the wary wildcat, 2 Eswynd shieldbearers, Loryk, a cocky but amiable reaver arrive, following Medeia.

Teague makes his way into the shrine slowly with a nod towards Gilda with a respectful motion of his head. As he moves forward to lean aginst the wall his arms crossed over his chest. His long braids, moving along the back of his armor as his eyes studying her waiting. His face is looking tired, haggard as he rubs his fingers along that ax at his side.

Ilyse, a potentially reformed troublemaker arrives, following Reve.

Orion, a healer's surly Assistant, 2 Redoubt Buccaneers, Reve arrive, following Azova.

Pasquale also looks somewhat cold with his greatcoat pulled tight about him and an occasional stamp of foot to get the blood moving. He offers a polite nod to others as they arrive along with a hint of a smile for Piccola, Thea, Volya and Medeia.

1 Kennex corsairs, Wyatt, a large Kennex Laika Hound, Mary Lucennia, an alluring lady's companion arrive, following Cecilia.

Claude enters unobtrusively, hunched from the cold. He makes his way to stand quietly within the heated radius of a brazier.

Azova arrives with her very own personal hand warming device. Or, rather, she steps into the shrine quietly with Reve beside her. And though she murmurs quietly towards him, also swiftly follows the direction of where to go and stand. Basking in Lagoma's love and light just brings the most content smile to her face, even in the freezing cold which is just kind of weird.

Volya finally has a shirt, so that's nice. Oh, and a fur-lined great coat, which billows just slightly as he passes through the entrance. He gives a small shake, as if trying to get the cold out of him. "How to people *live* like this." he comments mostly to himself, moving up onto Pasquale's side. "Hello there, dear brother. Didn't take you for a holy man, eh? Figured I should do justice since I just got here. Y'know, respect the gods an such." He stops. "Oh, are we being quiet now? Right, we're being quiet. Got it."

Medeia makes her way in, wrapped in a long and nondescript dark wool cloak, hood drawn up over a long braid. This Lycene doesn't look as frozen as Giada, but her cheeks are definitely pink from the chill. "Sister Giada, good evening." It's a simple, but sincerely given, greeting as the lady makes her way forward and looks around at the gathering crowd of Faithful.

Stepping into the shrine, comes Thea. A familiar place for the Malvici for the woman as of late. "Hello,"she greets with a brief wave. That said, Thea hurries to get warm. Because FOLKS, it's COLD!


It's hard in the white for a woman in black to go unnoticed.

Piccola stomps in through the cold and snow, kicking the latter off from her boots as best she can before entering the Shrine proper. A moment of surveillance is taken before the General finds herself a seat by the lily pond, where Thea is. It's clear from her approach that the choice of seat is quite deliberate. It's also clear from the dark look in Piccola's eyes that she is coldly brooding over one thing or another, her displeasure also evident in the twist of her mouth and tension in her limbs.

She adjusts her armament as she takes her seat silently.



Piccola has joined the by the lily pond.

Cecilia moves into the Shrine at her usual unhurried pace and joins the others to stay warm. She smiles warmly at Giada before making sure her coat is fastened tightly about her.

Although he surely must feel the chill, that northern blood of his assists in making it that Reve Halfshav is not shivering when he steps into the shrine. He might be a bit rosy cheeked, but he is tolerating it well enough. Then again, he remains close to Azova the whole while and the pair must assuredly be gaining warmth from one another. Or she's stealing it from him! One way or another. "Good evening," he says amiably toward Giana, for she offered those general greetings. He's going to be the one being a group participant evidently. "Cousin!" he calls forth to that very noticeable woman in black. A sharp grin goes along with the greeting to the General Piccola.

Cecilia has joined the by the lily pond.

Aelgar chuckles at the repeated references to the weather. He does not look too very uncomfortable himself, although his cloak is mostly closed against the chill. Less like he is immune and more like he is quite familiar with winter and accepting of it.

Merek walks along and into the Shrine of Lagoma, while he takes a moment to adjust his dark attire, the hood up while he finds a place to settle in.

Teague nods slowly towards Piccola, his eyes watching the general as his tried face lights up with a smile. Before it is once again, a dark pool of exhuastion. He pushes off the wall now, as he tries to find a better place to watch and hear. As he moves he nods to a few faces he knows Pasquale, Thea, as he moves now to stand there his arms crossed over his chest at a new leaning post with a better view.

The energetic bounce that is customarily part of Adalyn's gait is subdued today by a stiffer, more cautious quality of movement. Despite that, she arrives with a polite smile for any familiar faces she happens to spot. She shoves her hands deeper into the pockets of her oversized, lined coat and meanders a little closer to the brazier in an effort to get warm.

Azova finds herself looking up and around when the call of 'cousin' is heard, with a bright smile being offered to Piccola in greeting while she thieves warmth from Reve. She's an unabashed heat stealer, even bundled in a warm coat.

Thea is already giving Piccola a lift of her eyebrow. Her eyes however indicate assumption as she simply waits. She knows, oh she knows. Seeing Medeia, Thea offers her friend and protege a brief smile as well as Pasquale and Azova.

Hearing Volya, Giada snorts softly in amusement. "We're not being quiet; I don't do lectures," she reassures him. "Lady Medeia, Lady Cecilia, nice to see you two again. People, you -can- get closer. The braziers help, I swear." She motions the newcomers in further. "We'll wait a minute or two longer to see if others come."

Pasquale chuckles at Volya's words. "Don't worry Volya. We will all have an excuse to go back to a sensible climate before the winter is done." The second part gains a more contemplative look. "Now that Volya deserves a rather long answer." his hands move to his collar as he shifts it upwards to better deflect the breeze. "Good day Lord Teague."

Teague nods slowly at Pasquale with a faint smile."Good day, Lord Pasquale." His voice is friendly, as he waves with his left hand, the right still resting on his belt. As he looks over at Giada. With a little chuckle, as he nods towards her."Well, than good day to you Sister Giada. I was being quiet out of respect." His voice is booms out of his massive frame, as he grins at the sister as he cracks his neck with a roll of his shoulders.

Claude shifts his weight slowly from left to right then back again, allowing his gaze to slowly move over the gathering crowd before returning to the altar expectingly.

"Hey, you'll give the secret away if you say it like that." Volya offer up helpfully. "It's not lectures, it's *sermons*. See? Nobody will think otherwise if it's phrased like that." He's clearly not being serious, but the Malespero isn't often serious. Unless he has to be. "Well Pasquale, you'll have to tell me some time. But maybe not here, yeah? As the old Lycene saying goes; 'I'm here for a good time, not a long time.'." Grinning at that, he smile is a bit more fond, seeing Medeia. "Heyhey, cousin. You got...old. And taller!" he greets in a laugh before adding. "In a good way, in a good way, promise. Tens years away from someone you last saw will do that to you ."

"Alright," the priestess says with a smile. "Let's get started. The way this works is that I introduce the topic, and we'll then go into an open forum. Participate. Ask questions of each other, not just me, but first we'll offer our thanks to Lagoma."

The hooded face dips, and her arms slip free of that so so warm cloak. Her palms lift in invocation, backs parallel to the ground. Olive green eyes close and her back alley Lenosian voice turns tender. "Blessed Lord Lagoma, we are here tonight to give you praise and glory for your gifts. It is you who grows the food we eat, provides the beauty of changing leaves, scents the air with sweet grasses and fragrant blooms. The sun shines on us as you mold and remold the world around us, reminding us that change is unchanging. Give us wisdom as we study your tenets, and may we ever offer our love and obedience."

Aelgar is apparently already as close as he needs to be to the braziers and so remains settled, letting the others shift as desired. Occasinal waves, nods and quick greetings arise when he crosses gazes with one or another acquaintance.

Medeia starts to head toward Thea, but stops at Volya's greeting. She knew he was in the city, but didn't expect to see him so suddenly. "Volya," comes her breathless recognition. An uncomfortable glance to Pasquale, and a dip of her chin in greeting, before she reaches out a hand to Volya and squeezes one of his gently. "We'll talk after." It's a promise. Then she rushes to Thea's side and greets her and Piccola before falling quiet while Giada gets started.

Azova looks around her, breathing in the crisp cold air, allowing herself the moment to enjoy the way the snow blankets everything to cover it as Lagoma's cycle begins anew. As she exhales, a faint smile appears and a few words of thanks to the Lady of Change are murmured under her breath.

Teague listens now as his eyes studying Giada his hand are still crossed over his massive chest. His eyes closing now, as he mutters softly to himself. His fingers tracing along the handle of his ax, as he bows his head in respect.

Though those northern roots keep him sufficiently comfortable in the climate, those northern roots do not have Reve looking at all uncomfortable when the invocation begins. The Halfshav bows his head and looks respectfully to the ground, though he himself remains silent. When Giada is finished, he looks up curiously, awaiting the topic.

Claude bows his head respectfully and closes his eyes. His hands clasping together absently as he listens.

Pasquale gives Medeia another of those slight smiles when she looks his way before bowing his head for a thoughtful moment in contemplation, or perhaps prayer.

As opposed to his carefree grin, the smile Medeia gets is one more genuine. "You got it." he utters back to her before taking an actual moment to shut his mouth and look up to the Sister. And yes, even he gets a bit reflective in thought. To say that he prays is maybe a bit of stretch. "In time, so too do I change. Time and change, one in the same." It probably passes as a prayer. Or a mantra. Or something.

Thea bows her head in silence as the prayer is said and finished. Respectful.

Adalyn glances over the crowd, likely on the hunt for faces she has seen before. Recognition flickers briefly across her face, but the opening prayer snatches her attention away from thoughts of conversation to focus upon Giada instead. She bows her head in a respectful, reverent manner, hands still tucked in pockets in an attempt to keep warm.

Teague listens to the prayer as he watches the room taking faces that he knows. His hand is coming up now, as he lifts his head at the same time. His right hand is once more tracing the hilt of his ax.


By the lily pond, it is fairly clear that Piccola is holding a very quiet-but-brief conversation with Thea and Cecilia. Finally, her attention goes to the altar, and to the event at hand.



"Change."

Giada quickly swathes herself in her cloak when her prayer has ended. "I have a confession for you all: I hate winters outside the Southern cities. It's cold, wet, and entirely unreasonable to my tastes and thin Southern blood." Her eyes are twinkling as she speaks. "And yet? Lady Lagoma is responsible for this special time of year, when the old passes to nurture and birth the new. So how do we approach her teaching of unalterable change? I challenge you all to recall a moment when change was uncomfortable or even unwelcome. As you review these memories, do you see truculence? Fear? Anger? Acceptance? Gratitude? If change is inevitable, how do we reconcile that change is unchanging, or that the chaos and mess of refinement is an unavoidable process in our lives?"

That cloak gets pulled tighter as the wind cuts through the shrine. "Lord Teague." Giada focuses her attention on the man. "How do we interact with change when presented with it? Don't worry about 'correct' answers."

Apparently, the homily section of the service is over as Giada hands the discussion to the Faithful.

Despite the occasional scan, Aelgar remains mostly attentive of Giada. When the Sister introduces the topic, there is a quick, subtle smirk followed by an amused and fond look of approval, eyes squinting a little to twinkle her way.

Cecilia turns her head from her quiet conversation and listens to the sermon.

Volya barks out a short laugh at that, which is quickly stifled by his hand covering his mouth, as if realizing the sound was made outloud and not in his own head. It sounds only mildly bitter. "Er. Sorry, Sister." he coughs into his fist.

Teague looks up at Giada for a moment as he thinks his teeth chewing on his bottom lip." First you accept that change is part of the world, it is part of life. It is the nature of things. Than, I study it, I try to understand it. If it's too complex for me, I get my sister or my brother to examine it. Change is always coming, but it needs to be understood." His voice is booms out of him, as he grins at Giada."So, go to smarter folks to have them figure it out is my answer." His head thrown back into a mirth filled laughter, as his braids is fly around his head with the tinkle of all those silver bits."That is my answer Sister Giada."

Khaavren, a dutiful assistant arrives, delivering a message to Piccola before departing.

Thea murmurs something quiet before she looks up. "Depends on the person. Some people choose to run from it, thinking tbe outcome will change." Now, that's not to say, Thea is THAT person.

Aelgar grins briefly at Teague and his response.

Giada nods slowly at Teague's answer. "Rebuttle or response?" She asks, looking at each person gathered. Thea speaks and there's a vague point of a hand covered by brocade-lined fur in the noblewoman's direction. "Running from change to find change?"

Pasquale suggests. "I remind myself that without change there is no growth or healing. Yes," he looks briefly to Volya. "There are times when it hurts but nothing worth having is free."

Claude listens intently as Giada speaks, his lips pursing briefly in thought as she poses the question. He then studies each speaker and their response in kind.

"I find that if I cannot understand a change, I still find something. -Anything-, initially, that I can accept and even enjoy about a change." Azova inclines her head politely towards Teague and Giada. "Winter, for example. It is cold and wet and uncomfortable. But, it provides a lovely excuse to pull out the softest blankets and sit by a roaring fire with a hot drink and admire the way the snow makes everything look. And summer is unbearably hot. But that is when the flowers are at their most potent and a swim is the most welcome."


From under her black hood, the General responds.

"Change brings opportunities for the weak to find themselves strong, and the strong to discover themselves weak. It is hubris that blinds the arrogant man from the power of change, just as the snow challenges and kills even the strongest of wolves. Even the darkest nights break and the sun rises; so to do the mighty falter, fall, and die."

Of course, Piccola is best known as the "happy" member of House Tessere.



Aelgar nods approval again, this time toward Azova as she voices her perspective quite eloquently.

Listening with keen interest, Reve actually snorts to himself. Then, the individual that is most certainly NOT a disciple of Lagoma says forth, "When change comes, hard change when I was younger and incapable of dealing with it, I became angry. Maybe fear at first, that feeling of being swallowed before I was - bluntly, pissed off." He glances to Thea and chins to her. "Maybe I ran, but not for running from it, but rather to think it through. Process. Look for answers. Sometimes people move for answers rather than fleeing." He taps his head. "Eventually you can work through it there." He slams his hand into his chest. "And then if all goes well, you find peace there." He chuckles and then offers, more quietly, and sidelong to Azova, "Maybe I still can become angry."

A half smile and a quirked brow lighten Medeia's expression as her attention is drawn toward Volya's laugh. But then she's mulling over Teague's response, and Thea's response gets a nod. "I've run from change. I've run to it. Both, in the same run." She offers. "It seems to be a matter of change that is thrust upon you versus change you choose for yourself. We cannot do anything to change the seasons coming and going, but we can change the place in which we experience them. The company we keep during them." She nods to Azova, and then Piccola, falling quiet once more.

Pasquale gets a pointed look from Volya, who then sighs. "Alright." he mutters lowly, like he's trying sum up something. "Those who resist change are cowards." he states flatly. "You change, whether good or bad, it's bigger than you, larger, and you can either adapt to it or be swallowed up by it. Change doesn't care if you agree or disagree, it's going to do what it's going to do, despite whatever you might think. And that kind of impotence can make you do stupid things. It can get you killed. It can have ramifications that'll effect not just you, but others as well. To deny change is selfish. And prideful. And you'll only end up worse off for it, despite whatever 'self-righteous indignation' you feel." There's a particular edge to the words, like it's something he's thought about for a long time. "Not all change is good, but you have to learn to work within it. Realize that it's a new wrinkle of life that you have contend with. Even if you don't like, even if you hate it. But I think the better question is to examine why you feel like that. What brought about that reaction. Maybe the change was needed. Maybe you need to change. But humans, generally by default are stubborn idiots, so, that lesson isn't always one learned."

"Both,"Thea answers. "Some people find comfort in how they are. Change can be frightening if you don't want it. If you dont understand it. Im sure each have their reasons,"she explains. "Others,"Thea continues,"seek it because they want more. Want different. Or because they're perhaps unsatisfied.." She listens to people's responses at her answer and nods, understanding.

"Sometimes change feels easy to accept, particularly when it's expected or adventurous or even joyful. Other times, it's far more of a challenge, but one that ultimately pushes us. And when pushed, we either break /or/ we grow and become stronger for it," Adalyn muses aloud in between listening to the thoughts offered by the others.

Teague listens now as he leans back against the wall, his eyes moving from each of them as he studies the words. His hand is tapping against his ax, his fingers tracing the wood. As he is deep in thought now.

Azova looks up and over at Reve for his contribution to the discussion, her expression softening and then shifting to amusement at his sidelong comment. She murmurs a few words for him quietly and then rests her hand back on his arm. Some of the answers prompt a knowing chuckle from her as well. "How many people come to the House of Solace with the -same injuries-, repeatedly? Stubborn people indeed."


Piccola's attention goes to Azova, to whom she replies drily, "I feel called out."

But it's delivered with a suitably-amused expression on her face, so chances are that it's a joke. Sort of. Because she does keep going to the Mercies and healers with the same damn injuries, which are usually caused by bigger, superior sparring partners.

To each their own kinks.



"So it seems that from the responses that change is individualized by each person," Giada says, stamping her feet as quietly as possible as she works to keep the blood flowing; she moves closer to a brazier. "We've heard of running from change, analysis leading to reconciliation, and self-monitored mental framing so far. Looking at each one in turn, what -is- running from change at its truest core? Fear was mentioned, space for perspective as well. To understand how we truly submit before the will of the gods, we have to first know what is happening within ourselves."

Cecilia thinks for a a bit as a frown crosses her lips. "Accepting that life is change is one thing. It can still be painful. Especially if that change is one that ruins plans you made for yourself. Hopes and dreams. While change is good. There can be pain."

Azova winks over at Piccola for that. "You're not the only one." she drawls, considerably amused. "Isn't running from change about discomfort, at it's core? And fear of the unknown, when it is an unexpected change. Most fear what they do not know and do not understand. It's how we deal with it that is different."

Aelgar nods again at a couple of the responses, reflecting almost to himself, "Avoiding change is often considered a way to avoid danger or trouble? Or discomfort..."

When Cecilia points out that change can be painful, Reve is regarding her with some small amount of satisfaction. He nods there to emphasize her point before turning back to the interplay between Azova and Piccola, lips quirking.

Teague leans back now as he nods towards Azova at the wise words. His eyes moviving from each of them, as he thinks long and hard. His fingers still tracing that hilt of his ax, as he bites at his bottom lip.

"Sometimes that fear is justified." Medeia offers softly. "Like finding out secrets that turn your life upside down, like a blade carving your skin for learning those secrets..." She chews her lip. "Sometimes fear of the unknown is lesser than fear of the known."

Giada mmns quietly as she listens to the attendees. "Survival, perhaps?" she suggests, tilting her head at Aelgar. She looks back to the others, including them in the question.

Claude brings his clasped hands to his lips and blows into them gently. His eyes gaze into the warmth of the brazier as he continues to listen to the discussion around him.

Thea glances to Pasquale, disagreement on her face. "I don't think a person is cowardly for not accepting right away,"though amusement is flashed to Piccola. "People are stubborn and by nature also fear what what they don't understand. It's only natural a person tries to understand it first." She reaches for the flask she has always has, nodding,"Maybe that change isn't one you NEED. You want it. And it isnt a good one.."

Aelgar nods agreement with Sister Giada, although he seems content to let the lay crowd field the active roles in the discussion.

"Yeah. Maybe." Volya offers to Thea. "Or that fear screws over others. So maybe not cowardly in every situation, but selfish for sure. But I don't deny my own bias. Not a bit." Pasquale gets a nudge. "Riveting conversation, but I got some stuff to do. I suddenly have something sour in my mouth." He turns at that, backing out of the crowd to venture elsewhere.

"Let's stick a pin in 'survival' for now. Analysis leading to reconciliation was the second reaction mentioned." Giada looks around. "Now this is pretty closely tied to the third example, which was mental framing, but we'll get to that next. Why do we retreat to gather ourselves before undergoing change?"

Teague thinking deep as he leans against the wall, his arms around his chest now as he exhales slowly. Trying to focus on it all, his hand is moving through his braids toying with them. His eyes moving from person to person, his eyes showing he is out of his depth.

"Because sometimes it requires our lives to go in an entirely different direction than what we had envisioned for ourselves," comes Adalyn's response to Giada's question. "It takes time to let go of our dreams for what we thought might be and accept what will now be our reality instead moving forward. That can be exhilarating, but it can also overwhelm."

Pasquale looks after Volya for a few moments before turning his attention back to the front. "I had best follow him. Thank you for the talk."

"Change takes energy to process, no matter how you're facing it. Perhaps we retreat to save the energy we will need to move forward with it." Azova suggests.

Alberico, the Malespero aide leaves, following Pasquale.

"I think that the reasons that we retreat to gather ourselves are as plentiful as the ways that we ourselves can undergo change," says Reve, his voice amused. Why? He nods toward Giada there and comments, "Which is likely why you said that there were no wrong answers."

Medeia looks around, a question at the tip of her tongue, but unsure she wants to ask it. She draws her cloak tighter as she hesitates. "What about change that you want to make, change that is already happening but that you want to make happen faster, and you have the means to do it and plans in place to support it, and it would be a positive for a large group of people... But those people resist it, or even outright refuse it, because... 'tradition' - 'this is how it has always been?'" A deep sigh causes her shoulders to rise and fall. "Things are never as they have always been."

Claude glances wistfully around the shrine before his eyes fall to the altar and Giada. He bows his head, "Please excuse me," he murmurs mostly to himself, not wanting to interrupt anyone. He then turns and makes his way out.

Teague looks over at the others as he watches each of them now. His eyes traveling his fingers tracing along his ax, as he moves to stand upright now. His eyes still moving from speaker to speaker, as he gnaws at his lip with his teeth slowly.

Reve's looking amused as he counters Medeia, "If things were never as they have always been, there would *be* no tradition. Nothing to go off. One requires tradition as one requires change. One would not exist without the other, no?"


"Not necessarily," replies Piccola to Reve.

"Traditions are sometimes written, sometimes not. They are always presumptions: that a formula leads to a result all the time in society." Beat. "But this is hardly ever the case, and better considered coincidental results, in my experience. Consistency only lies in what we choose to perceive from a situation."

And, with a shrug, she adds: "Traditions make people easier to predict and oppress."



"Adjustment and building stores of resolve. Both at their core also matters of survival. Mental framing is another way of the mind and the spirit working together to create a sense of stability in ourselves. We crave that internal quiet, and its lack is unsettling by definition."

It's still too cold; Giada is almost hugging the brazier by now. "Now that we've discussed various personal responses to change, how do we show true submission to Lady Lagoma and change? This about this one before you answer, and again... Don't worry about getting it 'right'.

"Going back to my earlier confession, I offer you my own example of submission." Her eyes twinkle, raffish grin spring back to life. "Which is why you're all here with me, freezing off your backsides; you are all part of my personal submission to change."

The Second Reflection of the Thirteenth grins a little at Reve. "You'll have to forgive me for briefly mentioning the Thirteenth if that's uncomfortable for some of you, but I bring him up for this reason: personal reflection. At the core of every change is an individual narrative that we tell ourselves. What stories are in your own lives? Do those realizations -change- you in some way? And what does that self-analysis do to inform your worship of Lagoma?"

"Adjustment and building stores of resolve. Both at their core also matters of survival. Mental framing is another way of the mind and the spirit working together to create a sense of stability in ourselves. We crave that internal quiet, and its lack is unsettling by definition."

It's still too cold; Giada is almost hugging the brazier by now. "Now that we've discussed various personal responses to change, how do we show true submission to Lady Lagoma and change? This about this one before you answer, and again... Don't worry about getting it 'right'".

"Going back to my earlier confession, I offer you my own example of submission." Her eyes twinkle, raffish grin spring back to life. "Which is why you're all here with me, freezing off your backsides; you are all part of my personal submission to change."

The Second Reflection of the Thirteenth grins a little at Reve. "You'll have to forgive me for briefly mentioning the Thirteenth if that's uncomfortable for some of you, but I bring him up for this reason: personal reflection. At the core of every change is an individual narrative that we tell ourselves. What stories are in your own lives? Do those realizations -change- you in some way? And what does that self-analysis do to inform your worship of Lagoma?" <fix>

"What we call tradition now, likely would look unfamiliar to those we claim held the tradition centuries ago." Medeia opines. "As each generation subtly leaves their unique mark on it. The words of a prayer shift until 'that is how it has always been said' or similar. A story passed down year by year, teller by teller, will inevitably alter with each telling as the teller forgets a detail or adds in their own. Tradition is, at best, a comforting ideal."

Giada laughs all of a sudden. "I'll be including tradition as an ideal when I do this for Gild, Lady Medeia."

Teague listens now his eyes on Giada as he thinks on her words. His right hand is coming up to stroke his beard slowly, his fingers tracing it as he sighs softly. His eyes closing now, as he thinks for a moment biting his lip roughly.

Perhaps it is the mention of the Thirteenth that causes the Oathlander to fall silent, although Adalyn appears more contemplative than troubled. Her attention remains upon the conversation, focus shifting to each speaker in turn as their thoughts are contributed to the discussion.

"Idealism." Azova comments, after a moment of reflective thought. "My goal when I trained to be a Mercy and when I eagerly joined the ranks of those tending to the wounded on the field during the Silent War - it was always to help. To make the world better. But I did so with a head and heart full of idealism." she admits. "It had never occured to me that there were enemies who would not respect the sanctity of the healers. That there were monstrosities that would cause such mortal wounds that there was nothing even left of a person to heal. It was a shock, to me. How could I possibly help a world that I wasn't prepared for?" There is a sigh in her words, but her spine remains straight and her smile is there though a touch weary. "I had to learn to adapt to that change of perspective. And it has not ever been easy. But despite my idealism being stripped away I am more committed to healing and bettering Arvum than I ever was. That took a lot of reflection, which could be attributed to the Thirteenth of course, as well as embracing Lagoma's ideals."

Having no reaction at all to Sister Giada's mention of The Thirteenth or reflections, the Scholar Aelgar continues to look absolutely attentive, following the discussion with little nods and smiles, completely absorbed in the material and the various perspectives around it.

Reve's shrugging a shoulder in an easy manner and grinning toward Piccola. That's his response, amused of all things. He becomes MORE amused at the mention of the Thirteenth or that someone might become uncomfortable with that. He certainly is not. Nor is he uncomfortable when Medeia takes that other tact. He shakes his head, disagreeing, and murmurs a simple, "Perhaps older traditions should be known." Rude? Absolutely could be taken that way. He's at least good natured about it, grinning. That Halfshav might comment further but Azova's speaking and, you know, she gets ALL his attention.

Teague moves for the door slowly his hand is waving over his shoulder. As he sees a messenger heading him off at the pass, as he reads it with an annoyance laced sigh. As he slips out the door, with a second wave over his shoulder.

There's a smile tugging at the corners of Medeia's lips when Reve responds to her. "I don't disagree." She looks to Azova then, dipping her head in acknowledgement. "Idealism tends to hold us back from change, I think. And yet? Each gods has ideals that we aspire to. What a balance to strike."


It takes Piccola a moment to compose her response.

"I used to believe that I was worthless and did not matter. And I was right. But it is not right to think that I can cast my life aside for that reason; rather, it was right to embrace that there is nothing that matters but the purpose for which I live. I therefore have embraced death, and thereby become better at life."

Whatever that means.



Giada coughs a little as Medeia says 'balance'. How her eyes sparkle! "Balance," the Mirrormask agrees. "Idealism can actually prompt change, however. It might be the motive to embrace something different or to even be an instrument of that change." Piccola gets a nod. "As we know, there's a flip side to change. Stasis. There is nothing but existance when you are divorced from Change. To make the decision to embrace the worst of changes is often the way we embrace the best of them."

Brows arch. "So then, this is what I leave you with: go about your days, locate the strongholds of story in your life, and bend your heart and mind to the duty of change. Submission of fear and stasis leads us in our worship of Lady Lagoma. Go out into the world and face change with gratitude and determination."

Keski, a nervous disciple of Petrichor, Aletta, an even more nervous disciple of Petrichor, 1 Templar Knight guards, Oswald, the war pig, a lively Ostrian gelding, Daisy, the overly enthusiastic Keaton pygmy goat arrive, following Brigida.

"I am, as ever, a devoted disciple of Lady Lagoma." Azova assures graciously, inclinding her head towards Giada when she leaves them with that charge. "Be well, everyone." is added, before she steps back alongside Reve to make their exit from the shrine and the event.

Giada huddles around a brazier as she wraps up the discussion.

Ilyse, a potentially reformed troublemaker leaves, following Reve.

Orion, a healer's surly Assistant, 2 Redoubt Buccaneers, Reve leave, following Azova.

Thea climbs to her feet, offering Giada a smile. "This was--enlightening. Thank you,"before she murmurs to Medeia as well. "Talk soon, yes?"


With the final words of the discussion, the General lifts herself from where she was sitting to depart.

"We'll meet soon, my friend," she says to Thea before. "I will send a message."

And //then// she leaves.