We Find Peace in Hallowed Halls

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Mairi: She found herself there after hours of soul searching.
Mairi and Jack had an appointment with the Duke and Duchess the following
day, and one of the things they wished to discuss really raised questions
about how she felt about herself and her own situation. She sought solitude as she
walked slowly on a path to the cathedral, wrapped in a dark cloak she used to
where when traveling incognito, when she existed only in rumors of Bloody
Mairi being free and alive. Now she wondered what the rumors would say--that
she was weak and feeble? It was not proper to go telling others of her
pregnancy so soon; thus far only Jack and Beathag really knew, she hadn't
written to her younger sister or her cousin. She was afraid she might lose the child for
some reason, since it felt so different. As she had time before her
appointment with the healer, she decided to enter the cathedral. Rather
obviously a creature of the old ways, the Ceannfort's face was smudged with some of theink she'd been using earlier...colors of greens and vibrant yellows. As usual, the scent of herbs hung about her, coming from the pouch she wore, andone could easilyspot her sheathed weapon sticking out from beneath the cloak. This
place seemed to offer peace, and that was what she sought for a moment. She
welcomed the smell of incense. (d)


Beathag: Beathag was not one to embrace the idea of the Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost trinity as the end all-be all of religious exsistance. Her
idea of communion was ale and shorbread. Mass looked liked borrowed bits
from several faiths, and when she was educated in the bible, it all sounded like
the stories her grandmother, mother, and aunts taught her to recite so that
she would be one to remember heritage of a whole nation. Yes, the Duchess
was a well known, unapologetic pagan right down to the last fiber of her body.
Cathedrals served as places to think with flying buttresses, arches, placid
stone faces, and Father Donovan. He was a man for whom education sprawled
beyond the works of saints. Each learned something in the other, walking the
farthest side aisle. "M'thinks your daughter's soul is a guardian spirit, as
we have angels, and ye have watchers.." "Yes," she breathed through her
nostrils, slow came the reply, "I think so tae. After she was placed in the ground,
I hadn't a heart tae put her to pyre...the tree blossomed but a day or so
later, n' has been white laden e'er since.." He heard the closest her heart
came to confession candid admittance. (d)

Balian: The Cathedral held something more to Balian then the house
of the one god. He had seen his share of the one gods love in the desert
sands of the Holy City.Veteran Knight of the Crusades and sworn Champion of
the King until his passing like his father and his before him. Though Balian
didnt follow his father Braxos Windsors religion to the one god. Instead if
was his mothers rebellious Pagan ways that enlightened him as a boy. He
rarely spoke of such things as religion openly though it wasnt something that
shamed him either. He had fought this war and washed his hands of it a long
time ago. Prayer hadnt brought Balian here, it was his love for architecture
that brought him out. His long white cloak was tossed over an empty pew while and
he sat in the far back of the church atop another pew with a sketch pad and a
break of coal in his hand. Long locks of wheat hung across his brow and
cheeks nearly shadowing his features. Black leather trousers and a leather
vest to match hugged his thick frame. His biceps were exposed to the dim
light breaking through the painted glass above and his icy blues were fixed
against the page whilehe drew in his silence. [d]

Mairi: Mairi drew her arm back within her cloak after the heavy
door closed behind her. She was holding something very precious to her
beneath the darkness of the fabric, something that she thought might be
welcomed here. If there were priests like her brother, they would respect and
appreciate her ways. This wasn't Eire, but it was something like it. The
Ceannfort looked about and at this point saw only one person present, wearing
a white cloak. "Excuse me," she said with a fair amount of authority in her voice, "Do ye
mind if I play?" She brandished her harp then, holding it as she might hold
a weapon. She needed time to calm herself and the babe that had been
upsetting her stomach all day--though so recently pregnant, one could not tell from
looking at her. Mairi's fair skin reflected the sheen of the gold colored
harp. Her firm voice was more accustomed to a battlefield than a cathedral or
a library, and she could not hide the command in her breathy, alto tone.
Besides, she thought, why would the Goddess give us voices if not to hear
them? Standing straight with shoulders back now, she awaited a reply, not
caring much about who she mibht be disturbing. (d)


Beathag: The priest in his robes walked with the Duchess in her
tartan array. Black and gold plaids fell against her back, the griffin pin
holding it in place catching light on the talon as if he were going to strike
out should any invade the sanctuary's peace. She looked out to the pews to find
the White Cloaked Sir Windsor and the Warrior Harpest Ceannfort in the
beginnings of a conversation. But it wasn't their figures that made her
stand long to look; the harpwas silent as the strings did not yet tremble with song.
"Why is it now you're family does nay play in the hallowed halls of the
chosen monarchs of the isles now," Father Donovan came to her side. He
studied the instrument, putting his finger to his chin, before turning to regard his
sovereign, his friend. She whispered, knowing he heard. A voice like that
could bounce over the mountains from the Cullin to the Grampians. "The line
has stopped." He tilted his head, "How so, your Grace?" "Because steel called to me
instead." (d)

Balian: Hearing someone approach, his blues lift from his sketch
toward the sound of the womans voice and he slowly hauled the sketch closer
to shield it. The drawing was excellent, near perfect but he was far
embarressed to let anyone see his work. He smiled faintly up at her and bowed his head politely and licked his lips to moisten them. It had been hours since he last
spoke to someone. "Good evening My Lady.. .. no by all means." He motioned
his hand outward toward the Cathedral. It was not his place as to whom did
what, when or where nor would he have told her not to even if it was. A break
in the silence was welcomed. His head tilt just a little and a lock of wheat
fell right over hisleft eye with a passing thought. He couldnt recall the last
time he had heard music. Though his thoughts were swept aside quickly when he
heard more approaching and he turned his head to smile again toward the
Duchess and the Holymen. He bowed his head once more before shifting just
his eyes back to the sketch in his lap and speaking to the Ceannfort lady
once more. "I should like to hear this." [d]

Aislin: Aislin was simply not a religious person in the least. She
had been fascinated by it before, but never practiced it fully. When she had
spoken a few times with Ophelia about her goddess, Aislin had found herself
raising a brow. To put your life into the hands of something that has never been
seen or someone who was not physically there. It seemed pointless and without
meaning, even after hearing the words of her sister in spirits and her
husband. Her reason for coming was not only because herself and her husband were
seeking out sir Balian, but also because she had been told by a few servants
that Lady Mairi had been seen walking this way as well, of course, so had
Lady Bess. Aislin had a small conversation with the lady's husband on the night
that passed and any word that was given by herself or her husband would
always be kept. Dressed in the attire of men, brown breeches, white tunic
with a black vest over that and long knee high black boots, she moved by her
husband's side. The sound of her boots left a thud thud to be her entrance
since her walk was generally firm and steady.

Eamonn: Eamonn was at a near religious crossroad here. There was
an afterlife, he knew that much for a moment he had died, but Aislin had
called him back. It was not a dream, that much had been certain. Aislin even
knew it. But, he did not know what to believe in fully. It was not religion that
brought the Marshal and his wife here, rather certain people that had been
rumoured to be residing presently within the cathedral. As always, Aislin was
once more dressed in the favoured men's attire while Eamonn was garbed in his
duty's armour, leather and metal mixed together and more suitable for the
movement of cavalry. The tall blonde had pulled the top half of his hair
back, but as always with the helm having previously been atop his crown, strands came
loose and gave his hair a slightly messed look. It became a signature look
for Eamonn to be seen with slightly tousled hair and smears of dirt upon his
face and armour. The custom helm was held securely under his arm, while the
other lingered at his side, gloved hand holding the slender, feminine hand of
his wife. Hazel eyes turned this way and that, scanning the surrounding
cathedral that was rather familiar. Dry lips pressed themselves together stiffly as
the sound of his booted feet echoed down the halls.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Mairi: Mairi bowed her head reverently to both the priest and the
Duchess before she advanced toward the center of the cathedral, looking up
with a grin. How well this wound sound here; like fey creation. It would
relax her indeed, and she took it upon herself to sit in the center of the
cathedral. Such a vicious woman, with a reputation for death--yet her she
was, life so new within her she was not yet showing it, poised to bring life
to the strings. To the knight, bowed her head reverently and cast a glance to whatever it
was he was concealing. She thought it was a love note, for her mind was
filled with love at this hour, and worry as well. How many more hours would
it be until she could no longer restrain herself from wishing to find a fight? From
practicing the battle arts, or riding hard down the coastline? She knew that
when it came, Jack would be there to quiet her, to keep her from doing
something foolish. But what if her restlessness made carlessness necessity? For
the moment, she turned her attention lovingly to her harp, caressing it like
a seaworn lover, and cradling it like a babe at her breast. At last she
pushed back the hood of her cloak, the smudged green and gold ink on her face
matching somewhat the heart-hands-crown design, a Claddagh, tattooed on her
hand in a permanent fixture of companionship. She was less self conscious of
her artwork now, allowingher sleeve to fall to the elbow and exposing the beauty of
what was painted on her left hand. Positioning the small harp on her lap, the
fair-skinned woman began to weave a tune. Despite the tonal nature of the
instrument, there was a roughness first to the playing--a sadness in her love
song--like the ebb and flow of the sea. And she wove into it then the sound
of a ship sailing upon it, weaving in and out of the changing ocean. She
played softly, respectfully, with a certain hint of an underlying lust or some other
emotion that might push the bounds of the setting. Closing her eyes, she
looked upward, feeling herself surrender to the sound with that typical
half-smile on her face. She had come here to play for herself, and so she would,
though her mind flowed about to the important people in her life. Worry and
strain could be heard in the tune--these hands that played the harp so well
did not falter because theywere unskilled, but because they had seen war. And so she
closed the song with loss. She opened her eyes. How many had listened? How
many could comprehend? Mournful eyes glanced toward Bess for a spell, to the
one that might understand her worries. (d)


Beathag: "You will be in better company now," Father Donovan nodded
his head to the party who gathered, to those who approached. He smiled with
such serenity, that it made her think that if men with blood soaked hands
could find peace there was hope for a woman who was divided in the things
that made her: the sea, steel, and the harp string trembling. Eamonn and Aislin recieved her smile, the head of gold boundback in twists descending in reverant nod. Balian too, recieved this greeting, but it was Mairi who seemed to hold the tools that opened up the
Duchess to put a heart out for review on her sleeve. One need only watch the
skilled player and the observer to see that the second of the pair knew the
actions of the first as one knew how to breathe. Beathag's eyes closed to
half slits as between the ebbing tide she found the lyrical signature of time, the
rhythm of the masterwork. Fingers tapped against the pew to the speed of the
player carving out the chords. Yes, she understood. A talent with the harp
had been set aside to cry over the enemies, to take on names that were recorded in
the annuals for heroic effort bathed in blood. The peace she felt when steel
sang by her ears was wrong, wasn't it? It worried her family, angered them,
brought them to their knees. The love of the sea was fostered young, but
she knew the music before all of that. Green eyes looked to green eyes,
Irish to Scottish, yet their stories were hauntingly the same. How are you
to be the ruler, the steel-wielder, the mother, and the lover? What do you
sacrifice and what do you keep? How do you change if peace is on your
doorstep and the road is nearly over? (d)

Balian: His blues followed the Ceannfoot long while she began to
spin the tune. Sadness was felt with the melody that caressed the walls of
the cathedral consuming the veteran Knight into its spell, long since had he
forgotten the warmth of music to the soul. His lips parted to exhale a soft breath
while he stared into the nothingness remembering the lives he had lived and
left behind. The places he had been, the deeds that had been done and the
memories that lived forever unspoken. Few would believe them, even fewer would
have understood. It was a soldiers heart. Unsung. The door of the Cathedral
drawing back open had him snapping from his thoughts and turning his head
once more to the entrance to spy the arrival of Aislin and Eamonn, two of a
small handfull that had quickly gained Balians respect and honor. His head
bowed and his right arm lift, closing his hand into a fist to thud against
his heart in a salute to the Marshal. The Sketch was liad against the pew just as
he stood to his full height leaving the long white cloak to snap back against
spurred heels. "Lady Aislin.. ..Lord Marshal." [d]

Eamonn: As hazel eyes scanned the area, the keen Marshal took note
of those about. One was a face that belonged to a woman he had yet to meet,
the other was Balian, and then his half-sister Bess. But, it was the sound of
the harp that made the stoic man inwardly groan. Between his sister and
Eirian, the ballads and songs were becoming old. Moderation...Eamonn could
only tolerated it so long before he would be needing a tankard of
whiskey..the strongest. Eamonn nodded to his sibling, the Duchess, and even a curt dip of thechin to the harpist. However, his eyes turned to Balian, and the Marshal
bowed his head. The man was fastly gaining the respect and certainly interest
of the Cavalry's Commander. Releasing the hand of his wife after a gentle
squeeze, a secret share of affection, Eamonn crossed the ground between
himself and the knight new to the lands of Skye. ``Sir Balian.`` He greeted
flatly, plain with no aversion or favouritism. That damn harp...ignoring it,
Eamonn turned his attention back to Balian. ``I trust you are well this day?
I have come to inquire your interest in Skye's Cavalry division..`` Straight
to the point, a typical Eamonn.

Mairi: There was no reason for anyone to weep from emotion--or be
annoyed. Mairi was through when the tears welled in her eyes. She left the
harp on the pew and turned her eyes from the gaze of the Duchess after some
time. The pair had long since come to the sort of understanding she'd sought,
and Mairi no longer felt any threat. Placing a hand on the instrument, the
Ceannfort stood, and eyes searched out Aislin. The pair had met previously,
but now she seemed shy, much unlike her notorious self. She could face ten
Englishmen at once and feel no fear, but the thought of another loss made her
feel ill. She kept her cloak drawn around her, and approached Aislin. She
would speak quietly enough to remain out of earshot of the men, but not so
quiet that Bess could not take ear if she wanted to. After all, Mairi had
confided in her first, and she was the only one that knew at all of Mairi's
worries until now. "Might I have a word?" Breathy, her alto voice was, and subtle. The
scent of her was a familiar one of herbs, and would complement the incense of
this place. She was dressed not to be noticed, but she wished to pour her
heart out. There was only so solid and stoic a woman --even Mairi-- could be
for so long. (d)

Beathag: Ballads. Oh, they may sound a ballad to some, and simple
side tunes to another. But the harp was the heart of the Celts, along with
the bodhrain, the whistle. A story. Ballads may have bored him to near
tears with whiskey as the only saving grace. But should Mairi wish it, that harp
could groan and release a cry from an epic of long ago. Mairi went to have a
word with Aislin. Her face told a hundred stories for the secret carried
beneath her clothes, the worry for family, the feeling of love. It was a quiet lurch
in the abyss of self that turned her eyes toward an intricate picture of a
saint holding some small child. Women submitted in this faith and found
grace in their purpose.Perhaps that was what was wrong with her, she was malformed
because her body was malformed. Donovan tried to compare the story of one
hero to a saint, and she couldn't stomach the Christ-man's talk of torchure
in the slightest for long. (d)

Balian: Straight to the point was a preference of Balians either
way. "Sir Eamonn, Aye. The best I have been in a long while." His hands came
to clasp together before himself. The black woven hilt of the nameless sword
protruding from left side. "I would be honored to join the calvalry ..
should you have me Sir." His expression was flat to match the Marshals,
onlookers might have thought to two men were near drawing steel or standing
off but neither was true. The soldiers periphials had caught the movement of the
Ceannfoot moving to gather by Aislin, he had made the observation nearly a
week ago that Lady Aislin had a rare part in the likes of Skye. She was the
link that kept all the walks of the Kingdom together, soldier, sailor, outcast,
Lady or noble it mattered not which you were. Somehow it came back to Aislin.
Or so he had seen thus far. He lift his chin just a little and lift his right
hand to brush the fallen locks of wheat from his gaze before his deep tone
would be heard once more. "I just want to serve Sir Eamonn.. and if this is
where my skill best placed.. then thats where I will be." [d]

Aislin: Ocean eyes took in surroundings before she noted the others
inside. To be honest, Aislin felt that the church's order was rediculous, but
she never said nothing on it. Of course, there was a strange beauty to be
found in the wallsof it. Her husband's larger hand was felt as he gave that
silent aqueeze to her before they parted and he went his way. Aislin could
see the woman moving towards her, so ocean eyes laid to rest upon her while a
keen ear stayed on her husband and Balian's conversation. That calm look was
always present while both arms rested at her sides. Her own bump was slightly
noticeable, but not overly so just jet. Give thanks to men's attire. ``Sir
Balian`` She greeted and would have with Bess as well had Mairi not asked her for
a moment of her time. ``Aye. Ah be here looking for ye as it were. Come..let
us go for a walk aye?`` Aislin turned and moved to head out of the Church. As
much as it was a nice scene, she liked the outside air better, having spent
years around the woods. The smell of mint revaled with that of the herbs from
the other woman, making them both mix with the smell of the church. That long
chestnut and dark golden colored braid was pulled over her shoulder so it
did not swing upon her back and keep tapping under her rear.

Jelenah: The Lady In Waiting was searching for Bess as both women's
busy schedules had kept them apart for a while now other than brief meetings
through out the day. She had simply wanted to catch up and just talk, Jelenah
missing that sort of thing lately. Kendrew had informed her that Bess could
probably be found in the Cathedral, as that was where he last known her
heading. So the small Slavic woman would make her way from the castle to the
church, hoping that every thing was find and finding it odd in a sense that Bess
would be here. Maybe Eirian had need of her, she wasn't sure but soon arrived
at the church and she would pass a few as she entered. Nod given to Aislin
and Mairi, then eyes searched about for Bess. She spotted Eamonn and Balian,
giving them both a nod and finally found Bess. To the Duchess side she moved
and waited to be acknowledged, just incase the woman was currently occupied
with something and not wanting to be rude with interuppting. <d