WINDCHIMES | A PACT TO AIR

[Tav 4338]

 

A pact to the lesser spirit of Fiarza. Mozigla, the Spirit of Windchimes.

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

“Animism will change you. You may find certain impulses and fixations arise. There is a reason I made this trial - I need to know that whomever I teach can control themselves under the spirit’s influence.” came the warning words of his mentor, a batch of weed secured within her grasps.

 

“.. I climbed this mountain alongside you, Hera. I’ve no reason in my mind to back out now.” He spoke affirmingly, a tinge of excitement lying beneath his voice.

 

And so, she tosses the herbs into a nearby fire, and the duo lets their woozieness succumb to them. 

 

 

---

 

A blinding light overtook their senses, but soon dissipated. The pair investigated their surroundings, and in fact found out they were floating - standing, even .. on mere air. From their height they caught glimpses of valleys, and bustling crowds nestled within hefty cities. 

 

“Oh dear,” She exclaimed, careful steps taken in case she’d made a lapse in her judgment. “That’s curious, isn’t it?” Out of Varys’ sight, she points to something. 

 

Several avian figures flew past them, every single one of them making way for one tower that stood higher than them all. Both of them make the smart decision to follow behind, and start their climb before all was too late. Tired, they were - and the cackling of nearby birds helped none to boost their morale. With dead skin scraped off the tips of their fingers, they’d finally reach the top.

 

.. And what they met was some sort of temple. Amidst the clearing sat a ring of pillars - each bird similar to the last flying right into it, turning into naught but feathers.

 

A sucked in breath echoed from Varys as the birds met their unfortunate demise, “Are they okay?” He idiotically asked his mentor, to which she didn’t respond. 

 

Though the ‘ker soon bit his tongue, as the fallen feathers soon conjoined into one; morphing into the image of Fiarza, a bird-like woman bearing sharp avian features, and wings of mottled brown and gray attached to the bottom of her arms. 

 

“Who might you be?” Came her imposing words, sharp yellow irises latched onto Varys - unbreaking, like that of a hawk stalking its prey. 

 

“.. Varys,” He kindly introduced himself, quick to shift to his knees and offer the woman with a respectful dip of his head. “I wish to take the path of wind, it is she who assisted me to reach you.” With a vague gesture, his palm swished to the fire-haired woman. 

 

“I seeeee…”

“-Why?”

 

“Because,” - “I believe you are what’s best for me; a path beneath your wing will take me to great measures.”

 

With the help of her wings, did she creep closer to Varys. She had to be at least 8 feet tall, crouching down to look into the Ashwood’s eyes.

“But why?”

“Who are you, that I should gift you with my guidance?”

 

A tinge of nervousness sprung from Varys’ demeanor, gathering a second or two to himself before letting words exit his lips; “.. I am someone wayward, like your birds - like you. It is I who contorts the air with a simple string of a guitar, and I who creates chimes to give the winds a voice.”

 

“.. A bard!” She almost cheered, abruptly flying upwards into the air - quickly descending as she did before. Her head eerily tilts back, before expelling a sharp whistle.

 

Nearby thicket easily moved with the mere breeze of air, a figure made up of swirling winds and idle dust appeared. The faint sound of song and silver pipes followed its every move, several chimes accompanying its form. “Mozigla - the Wind which chimes.”

 

“They will act as my tether to you, fair bard. Do you accept this?” The bird woman spoke, making way for Mozigla to have clear way to Varys.

With the figures stride, came his own in tandem. Much like with Fiarza, he spared a respectful dip of his head towards the lesser spirit. “Of course I do,”                                                              

                                                                                                                                              

That series of chimes continued with their singing, the faintest of smiles curled within Mozigla’s dust-formed face. Before it then dispersed, those windchimes burst into a cacophony of sound. Some of it was harmonious, but the majority of it was deafening - forcing both Varys and Hera to jolt awake, finding themselves within their home realm once again.