Lion in the Forest

[Lord General Maahes Asad-Aziem]

Sicut leo in silva

As the lion is lost in the forest,
the dandelions are bright on the bank;
he is the trees and the spaces between
where the sunlight falls on his flank
he is the colour of last year's leaves.

The dandelions dance with the lambs
and the grass is glossy and green,
but the lion is parched in the desert,
he has lost himself in the desert,
his pelt is the colour of sand.

At the hour when darkness is made
the desert is a forest of crosses,
the lion dies with the lambs;
though the dandelions are bright in the fields,
the lambs are butchered and lost.

~Kathleen McPhilemy

Ada:     Was her shop watched?  Certainly, it would not be difficult to do so.  Her building was on a quiet street at night, but it was busy during the daytime, close to the Briar Rose, and at an interesting point between highbrow shoppers coming from Bryante Row and the lower class working men and women.  Only the dock workers refused to trudge up to Ada's shop, but that was fine with the healer -- she marched twice weekly down to them, basket of salves and a kit for sewing in hand.  It was Marcelline's day off, so Ada closed shop early, the end of twilight casting a peachy-pink glow through the shutters as she lit the candles within.  She brought out two watering cans to take care of the planters and baskets out front, making sure dry soil was thoroughly moisturized to get her darling flowers through the night.  She chattered quietly at them in French, obviously a believer that talking to one's plants made the blooms bigger, brighter, and longer-lasting, no matter how odd it made her seem to the neighbors.  Trusting Ada to be Ada, they had likely heard and seen worse coming from the apothecary. *

Maahes:     The desert born thrived in the light, the falling sun a burning ember in the sky cast well over darkened skin. Though the days without the light could pale the flesh, it would only take hours to return the essence of eternal warmth to the Egyptian Arab. The sun rose and set each day with silent prayers, as a language left his lips only in memory, but was the only natural sound that ever escaped him. The Arabic rose in rich deep sounds rolling from his tongue with the beat of African drums making up the pounding heart below his chest. It was an enchanting sound of distant lands, forgotten lands, barbaric and ruthless; beautiful, and destructive. No matter how many times he tried to mask it, cover it, replace it; Maahes simply was everything his heritage took pride in. So today in the falling sun he let down his hair, the thick locks of rich earthly black bound together with pride from the delicate hands of the jungle beauty, Anulia. She had always taken such care, and upon this evening even left them decorated with gold bands, beads, and carved decoration. They fell over bare shoulders that opened to a bare chest covered only by a deep heavily dyed fabric of the darkest blue. The robe draped him like a roman, but was in fact from a tribe just south of his Egyptian home. The long robe wrapped his hips, hanging low and rose with a cross over his chest to hang down spine, and swept just over his the backs of his legs. In this he felt free, he felt himself return to a normal state of mind, and felt himself home. It was a comfort. It was healing. It was simply what he needed, but as he rounded aimlessly in his wondering he came to her shop; realizing perhaps he needed something more. At first he could mistake her for a spirit, this little figure in the gardens as she spoke just as an angel in a language he had only heard a handful of times, but each time he thought it sounded as Ealora had always described a fae's voice in the stories she told the children; as soothing as church bells ringing in the distance. However, there was a big part of him that wondered, "Do you speak to your Gods?" asking he instantly wished he could take it back, but simply continued in a quieter tone, "When you speak to your flowers.." He meant of course. (d

Ada:     In the failing light, Ada told her flowers about her day, teasing the begonias about Marcelline's uncommon height, about the spiderwebs that had gathered, unsuspecting, over their heads in the dark-stained rafters.  She told them about Gauthier and worried about why the man was here.  Certainly for no good reason, Ada believed, but some tender spot in her heart refused to believe his death was the only solution.  She worried about Ren, too, but even in French, she would not voice that, instead choosing a cheerier topic -- her customers in all their glorious diversity.  She was never aware of what she looked like; it was part of what made Ada so unique among all the pretty faces of the world.  When she tossed her hair over her shoulder, she didn't know the passing tailor's apprentice immediately turned an interested eye on her rear, or the plentiful exposed flesh along neck to the top of her breasts.  She picked up her watering can and began to reach for the taller of the hanging planters, and nearly dropped the thing on her foot when she heard the General's voice.  For such a large man, he was very quiet in his approach.  "Mother of all that is holy, you should come with a bell," she muttered, offered a rather enigmatic smile, and tilted the head of the watering can over the lip of her planter.  But just as she was ignorant about how she looked, she was rather too absent-minded to care much for the appearances of others.  Maahes was no more intimidating than a pesky fly -- until he proved her wrong, at least, by biting.  "No, I tell them about my customers.  They seem to like the stories and who am I to deny them a bit of gossip?"  Eventually, she put the watering can down and turned to face him.  She tapped an index finger against her lower lip.  "You," she said, emphasizing the word, "look very dashing tonight." *

Maahes:     "Our cows wear bells, do you call me this?" He asked with a dark brow arched, but in a very dry tone as his question was very serious..but wasn't he always? He brought a hand to touch his stomach as the lines of his body were not as deep as they once were, but that had been an obsession he had let go right before the war. For countless hours he worked his body like a farmer to his crop, as he saw it as a temple. For in the end it would be what kept you alive, the blade had fallen. How many times had he killed a man with his bare hands, by his arm around their neck, or lifting to break their spine? "Rose started it." Meaning his weight gain. However, in the next moment he let an awkward silence fall over them as he looked between her and the flowers, then back again to the path; yet amber embers would fall back into her own. What was with him? No doubt any onlookers would raise their brows in question, as they had noticed somewhere along the lines this man was a puzzle unable to be worked. "Thank you." he concluded simply standing there, waiting.."My daughter talks to her flowers." Yeap. "She plants them in the fields." Eppie in fact only spoke to her flowers, having been mute ever since her parents were slaughtered in Aberdeen. (d

Ada:     Ada's smile was a little less enigmatic and more genuine as he kept talking.  He was an odd man, but Ada was nothing if not odd all on her own.  "Less bread, more fish," she offered in her most professional voice.  "If fish is not to your liking, chicken shall do.  I import a bean-like thing you can boil up in spices, mixed with a bit of rice.  Quite good, really."  Ada did not eat meat, so when she gave advice on protein, it was usually much more in depth than offering fish or lentils as options, but she was not certain how long the General would stay, nor what his purpose in dropping by was.  She canted her head, unconsciously offering to him just how perplexed she was at his arrival, but she never demanded anything of her patients but their time and patience.  She never begged nor pleaded, for healing could only come from those who willingly came to it, an axiom that worked as well on the body as it did for the heart.  "Rose is a very good cook."  She picked up the watering cans and moved back inside.  "Come in, if you like!  I have work to do yet before I lock the doors."  Ada picked up a rag and began polishing the counters.  It would be awfully uncomfortable if he chose to remain outside, but she had a big voice for being of such slight height, and shouting through walls was no bother for her.  She wondered about Eppie, and hoped Maahes only encouraged the girl to talk to her flowers.  It was a good habit to develop.  It showed compassion and trust, two qualities for which the world always lacked even in the best of times. *


Maahes:     Maahes encouraged everything in that little girl. If she said the sky was green the entire Isle would think such for who would dare question her with such a father? He loved all of his children, having such a soft spot for them when Ra had fallen ill so did he with worry, enough that he found himself over the railing of the porch excusing his dinner. "Rose is a good cook." He agreed, "It pleases her I will eat anything she prepares, says too many are picky." He would step forward helping her along the way if he saw she would need it, "Anything but pork...What is it that needs to be done?" He stood then in the doorway of her shop, waiting for her to instruction. Always an eager young that would lift the foundation if need be. When had he become a patient of hers? Was their a date? Yet, this man was searching not only in himself, but the world around him for an escape. He had noticed long before the war his mind was not right, that it had slipped somewhere numb, and even in his wife he could not confide. She would worry, but he was more upset about the idea of her thinking him weak. A husband was not weak, he was the man! Yet, he was, and it finally peaked when his brothers came to the Isle. Maahes can't stand being at Red Wall, and doesn't sleep. He is exhausted but only rests for an hour at a time. In his dreams he is haunted by their faces. He dreams of Egypt, an the life he left there. Even now his mind travels through his memory like a great river winding round the bends of times long forgotten. Again he fell silent, not sure what to say or how to say it. What in the world was he even doing here? (d

Ada:     "Here, know how to work this?"  She grinned and handed him a broom, indicating he could sweep everything out back onto the street.  That is where it came from, and it was where it would slowly return over the next day, to be pushed out again.  The lit candles were finally beginning to radiate a faint scent, though the powerful blend of herbs in the shop were so overwhelming, the candles themselves must have been powerfully scented to break through the green smells.  The secret?  Was pine, with a little bit of precious sandalwood.  Masculine scents to balance the sweetly feminine of the chamomile, rose, and lavender -- for what was life, but a balance?  She reached under the counter for a few tools, and took a pair of long wooden spoons to stir up the contents of the baskets, churning over the dried herbs basket by basket.  She was wary of the nettles, smiled at the mint, and inhaled a few extra times over the basket of lavender.  It was her favorite scent, though she often smelled more like a meadow in its entirety than a single flower, perhaps a slight drawback to her profession.  "Isn't it strange when your homeland suddenly comes knocking on your door?" she asked into the quiet, still air of her shop.  "Somtimes, a scent reminds me of home.  Or a face -- with a particularly shaped nose -- brings back all sorts of strange and unwanted dreams.  Suppose any who have lived and traveled, adventured and warred, have such memories.  Lavender and daisies remind me of my home, and not at all of Paris.  Paris... well, she is a bit of lemon balm, maybe?  chyt.  And roses.  If you have a nose, my lord General, she is not the city for you." *

Maahes:     He took the broom without a thought and began to use it, of course he knew how to use it! Ealora would skin him alive if she saw the dirt he tracked when he came home for an afternoon nap with Ra. "It is when the market opens for trade, and all the animals line the streets that remind me of home. When they are all together and it is hot, the smell..make me wish I did not have a nose." Broken English sounded so wrong against his lips, as it sounded forced and thought out long before it was spoken. He would sweep the floor, pressing the dirt out into the streets only to return inside and begin to straighten the shelves, making everything look neat and presentable. (not that it didn't already) Maahes moved from one task to the other without thought, having worked his entire life to know what came next. "My homeland did not knock, they kicked the door tried to rape my wife, and kill my son. Strange does not cover it." He would turn on her then, closing his eyes and raising a hand to still her. Was she trying to get into his head? Though his hand did not touch her it shook back and forth waving her to stop. "I do not wish to talk about this, I wish to forget it." Letting his hand fall he would feel the fool for asking, and if she laughed then this would be the last time he ever spoke to her..or came near. Maahes had such a pride on him, that he did not take well to being teased. "Can you make it go away?" A heartfelt question, with such a longing in his eyes for anything she would have, for one nights sleep. "I've becoming a monster, and I do not know how to stop it...There was a witch, she lived in the swamps." He felt he should explain, for if he was going to make a fool of himself there had best be good reason. "She would take my head, and take it away..." Instantly he wished he could take back his words, as he did not mean to accuse of her of craft, but for once he wished she was lying. He would kill to have his mind set right again. (d

Ada:     Ada might have been insignificant even within her own circle of acquaintances, but she did have some social skill.  She did not laugh.  In fact, her expression did not change much at all.  She put the spoons back in their box under the counter.  "You may wish to forget these things, Maahes, but forgetting will bring more pain upon the remembering.  Part of what makes us heal is forming the scar, not covering it up with a bandage."  Ada was a singularly odd woman in the face of violence.  She never twitched.  She never moved out of the way.  It was good, then, that his hand had been a stilling one, not one raised in anger -- not that it would have changed what she did next.  Violence was a symptom, as much as his nightmares.  She rested her hands on the edge of the counter and arched a dark brow.  "Do you trust me?  Can I trust you?  I want you to sleep well, General.  You are a hero to Skye and a man to be respected, but it is difficult -- it is hard.  To trust a man who could take a cure from me, and put me to the stake for practicing the craft."  If his answer was no, she would scream until her throat was ragged, until the guards came running in, and he could bet she would be on the first boat to somewhere else.  If he said yes, she would nod, the dark curls shining in the flickering candlelight, and disappear for half a second into her office -- a converted broom closet made all the smaller by the addition of several shelves of books and a work bench.  She came back, a rolled up rug in both of her arms. *

Maahes:     "Ada..." His accent made it sound just as a child practicing their words. Ahh-dah, a rich sound that rolled from his tongue. "I have little room to judge another for what they believe. It was never my reason to cast you as a witch. My wife is a witch, she has me melted in the floor with a whip of her hair. Do you see her burning?" Was that a hint of a joke? A small little curl on his lips. "I had a man dead..my streets..Peregrine..Rosalind.." He covered his face with a slump, letting his head fall into his hands as he started to rub at his eyes. It was very clear perhaps to anyone that he was on the verge of a breakdown, that a big part of him was so close to snapping. Yet, that was easy with the weight of nations upon your shoulders. All his life he had to fight to stay alive, or fight to keep others alive, when all he wished was to be home in his chair watching his children play. That was the dream was it not ? "I trust very easy, and for that have been burned many times. I put the faith as I do in God in all. So in turn I see the same punishment." He would move quickly to take the rugs from her, as he was very much still a gentleman.. and was not about to let her carry anything. (d

Ada:     "It is best not to tease about witchcraft to one who has stood so near the fires, she cannot get the feeling of soot from her skin."  She spread out the rug in the middle of the room.  It was no bigger than one of his prayer mats, thick enough that it was easy on the knees, colorfully handwoven of fine wool.  "The potions I can make are powerful, Maahes," she said quietly, indicating for him to join her.  "They can take away your nightmares but leave you with little ability to perform your duties.  They will make you slow, foggy, not the man you were before the nightmares began.  But they will take away your dreams.  If this does not work, I will try to find the best medicines for you. I swear it.  What I ask of you is patience, for this first night.  Kneel, please, make yourself comfortable."  What Ada knew of cultures other than her own was astounding, given she was a woman, and a young one at that.  Would it surprise him to know she had read most of the forbidden Arabic texts?  That she knew each law of religion as well as she knew the properties of her craft?  This knowledge she kept to herself, like a secret pool she could call upon at any hour, and draw from it sweet and cool water when she was parched.  She knelt behind him and threaded her hands in his hair, settling her fingers along his pulse points, thumbs at the base of his skull. *

Maahes:     It was not so easy to find the floor as she did. A body gave it's cry as joints protested. For a man somewhere around 30 he seemed so much older. Yet that came along with his duty, and for every scar there was a life saved because of it. Long legs did not hold the weight of his upper body well, but he was not in proper attire for anything other. Of course he held little shame, but it was for the sake of their others. Already black lashes fell closed over amber eyes, and perhaps like her kitten he leaned lightly into her touch. She would never know this, as it was not even a rumor anymore that was spoke about him. However, there had been a time when he would be touched by none! It sickened him to feel another's flesh, and ran deep into his core the memory. However now in these little hands he welcomed it, and if she wasn't careful upon just the principle he would be purring in her lap. "I do not care how long it takes, or how much it costs." He spoke with his eyes still closed and in a quiet voice, "I hit one of the Duchess's court without reason good enough...I can't sleep beside my wife...and my children...they deserve better." He admitted so easily now as the healer had the lion's mind open. His skin was warm, the pulse below her finger beat heavily, and even just in the candles his heritage could not be denied, but even with just this little appointment wasany different? "You will not burn on this land." Out of no where that seemed, but like that puzzle many times his mind worked backwards. (d

Ada:     She would not let him lean into her.  Sexuality had a time and place in healing, of course, but not with Maahes.  Her touch was intimate, but a line must be drawn between them.  She slowly massaged each of the points her fingers touched, her littlest fingers near his temples, her thumbs applying steady pressure to the base of his skull.  She knew these points as well as a skilled master, as well as the boneless sensation that accompanied her touch.  His pain would fade.  The pressure upon his knees would ease.  She held him entirely within her hands, and tilted his head slightly forward to better ply the points at his neck.  When she spoke, Ada's voice had a strange quality to it -- neither strong nor soft, whisper nor speaking.  It simply was, just as the healer simply existed, neither demanding nor begging, but living in the simple balance of elements.  "You feel guilt for too many things, Maahes.  Guilt for crimes you have stopped, manifested in nightmares.  Guilt for crimes that you could not, manifested in rage.  It does not excuse your behavior, but you know this."  She was silent for a long time, firmly and slowly, so slowly it  seemed there was no movement, massaging those pressure points along his scalp.  "Part of reconciliation is recognition.  Now you put words to your actions, and this is progress.  What you say here will always be safe between us.  It will not leave these walls.  I will not even tell my plants.  But maybe some day, you will tell your wife, give unto her your burdens.  We cannot offer absolution.  But we offer healing, in different ways, she and I." *

Maahes:     He was purring! With eyes closed and lips lazy his words could be mistaken for Arabic, if they were not heard in English. "She has so much to worry over. I do not wish for her to worry over my weakness. I wish to be healed, and be a good husband." His eyes opened then as he found himself still leaning forward, and pulled away. His eyes were blurry, and he blinked a few times. However Maahes was relieved at how much better he felt already. "The hour grows late and our children will be wearing on her nerves." A massive hand came to rub at his neck, as a gentler version of himself sat across from her. One that longed for his bed, and the intimacy of his wife's breath against his neck. "Will you need help again tomorrow?" In other words could he come back? (d

Ada:     She smiled and sat back on her folded legs.  "Maahes.  She knows you are not infallible.  All women know this of their men.  You will know when the time is right, and that time, I know -- it is not now."  She stood up in a fluid motion and collected her kitten from the counter.  Morpheus distrusted the General, but he was generally suspicious of everyone who entered his domain.  Ada reached under the counter and pulled out a small satchet.  "A gift for your lady wife, and yourself.  Put it under her pillow.  It is strong enough for both of you."  Rose petals, rosemary, lavender and hops guarded against night terrors.  It worked for her own man, who suffered far more violent outbursts in his sleep.  "Come back tomorrow.  I have heavy crates that need lifting, and my assistant has weak, girly arms."  She showed him to the door with the kitten still in one arm, his eyes glowing yellow in the candlelight as she turned the lock and let him through. *

Maahes:     Maahes had never been violent in his sleep, but then again Maahes rarely lost a fight. It came with the territory once you know that feeling you would do anything to keep from it. However, what suffered his sleep was a bit more strange. His dreams took him to other times, and feelings he could not describe. They were dreams of the mind, ones that twisted it until it felt out of place. He was not scared, nor fighting..simply displaced. "I will do more then move crates, you name your price. I will bring payment." With that he stepped well into the night only to return a short while later to simply say, "Thank you." Then he would be off again...but then return again, "Your not walking home alone are you?" Now how would he sleep then? (d