the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes...

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

Morning of 21st June

It's still raining, though not as heavily as earlier, but I couldn't wait any longer to come out here and see what has happened. I was wakened in the early hours of Sunday by a strange feeling of pressure and brilliant light, but my cell was completely dark. I walked through the abbey, and all was still and shadowed. Anyone else would say I had just had a dream - but I know there is no just to dreams.

In the afternoon, one of the novices came back from gathering in the woods to say that there was the strangest sight: a charred circle, as if lightning had struck and destroyed a neat section of the forest. Something about this oddity set my teeth on edge, and I was resolved to see it; but I had duties at the abbey in the evening, and I would not shirk them.

Today I woke to a downpour, but I have borrowed a raincoat from Sister Dove - she is slighter than me, and so it is a little tight, but it will do - and wrapped up my hair with a scarf to help shield it from the rain, since carrying an umbrella into the woods seems foolish - and I start walking the couple of miles to where Novice Diana said she saw the circle.

[OPEN][closed]

Comments

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

She's gotten 'erself dressed pretty inna coat't't's too big for'er anna pretty scarf over'er hair. She's settlin' inta bein' human, I think. Whether'at's a good'r bad thin', ain't m'place t'see. But she smiles when she sees me, an'I smile back. "I woke up with light behind my eyelids," she says, strokin' a burnt tree.

"Wuz smoke'n m'throat fer me," I nod. 'm 'bout t'call'er over, see what she c'n make outta'is...when a snappin' twig catches both 'r ears.

"Fine morning to find ourselves with a mystery. I can scarcely credit it."

Nanshe starts, 'n starts t'say somethin', but she catches 'erself. "I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."

Ain't seen'is fella b'fore, not 'round town, 'n not on th'Lot. Nanshe looks right nervous, an'I straighten, takin' a step closer. "Ain't seen you 'round b'fore," I says, cas'al. "New'n town?"

[samuel-durand.livejournal.com]

The smaller of the two women looks at me with mild shock, and for a moment, something like recognition. She utters something, or part of something, that I do not understand. Phonemes that are assuredly not English, but that I cannot immediately categorize. She recovers swiftly.

"I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."

"No harm done," I say, as warmly as one can when talking loud enough to be heard at some distance over the low rushing hiss of rain. I wonder who she's mistaken me for. While I don't exactly stick out everywhere I go, my Continental features don't usually lend themselves to cases of mistaken identity half a world from the land of my birth. Another traveler, perhaps?

The other woman stands up then, and she is taller than I expected, not far from my height. It is her footprints I am standing in, unless the other woman has someone else's shoes on and a pocket full of rocks. When she speaks, her consonants tend to leap over vowels entirely and mash each other together, so it takes me a moment to adjust.

"Ain't seen you 'round b'fore. New'n town?"

She has somewhat placed herself between the other woman and me, which makes me wonder about the connection between them. Perhaps it will become clear in time. Regardless, the last thing I want to do is to spook anyone. "Indeed, madam. I've been here less than a week. I have a bed in the dormitory at the Whitechapel." I sketch a small formal bow when I introduce myself. "Samuel Durand, Friar Observant," I say, bringing the rosary to my lips briefly. "But I hope you'll just call me Samuel. Or Brother Samuel, some prefer."

I take a couple of slow strides closer, still matching steps. I'd really rather move off to one side, but I don't want to disturb more of the area than I have to until I get to the seemingly untouched middle. "It seems like half the town's on edge about whatever happened here, so I thought I'd come take a look. I have certain skills that I hoped might be of use."

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"A friar?" I say, and raise my eyebrows. "I am surprised you didn't seek a bed at the abbey, then. It's a comfortable place. My name's Noma," I say. I will leave it to Syl to decide whether she wants to offer her name. "What sort of skills do you have, Brother?"

[samuel-durand.livejournal.com]

"I am surprised you didn't seek a bed at the abbey, then. It's a comfortable place.

She's at least the third person since my arrival to openly express surprise that I didn't seek shelter at the abbey. I sometimes wonder if such places are less retreats devoted to lofty pursuits than colonies of a certain sort of leper. It's not just that those like my own order shut out the outside: in another sense, it's as though the world is happier to have walled them away. "I spent a lot of my young life cloistered, but I've spent many years traveling, and to be honest, I'm in no hurry to be put walls between myself and the world again. I do intend to pay my proper respects one day soon."

She introduces herself as Noma, and the other, gruffer woman gives her name as Syl. "Noma. Syl." I taste the names as I say them, committing them to memory. "Good to meet you both."

They ask after the skills I mentioned, and I brush wet hair back from my face. "I certainly didn't want that to come across as arrogant. Meant only that perhaps I can be of service." A thin finger of cold water makes its way down my neck. "I've a scientific education, knowledge of woodscraft, and a number of experiences that could prove salient."

We are joined by another person, and I bow my head politely in greeting. "Does anyone know if there were actual witnesses to the event?"

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

cont here (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/450115.html?thread=11309635#t11309635)