[Aeolwyn Hy`lannad]

Aeolwyn had made the peaceful sojourn from Latherin's office toward the small cluster of homes, groping with his eyes, for a general clamour that might indicate the tavern. But something amiss stole him, something green as the days deem worthy, budding up like water from the lipid calm. He followed criss-crossing fingers of gently flowing water, trailing the path till most of his intentions seeped away, leeched from his steps, into the earth, where life would feed upon his doubts. It seemed that way at least, for a vacant smile became the young baijani, and without a word, he drifted beyond the emerald haunt, and into the leaf green fold. The fountain Latherin had spoke of permeated, ebbing itself forward in a dramatic parade of tranquility, heavy laden by druids gliding on the natural promenade, worshippers making silent offerings, and onlookers held thrall by the power of natural beauty.
Standing before the great book, his eyes wandered over this place, peering into a slow-coming nether; a sensation of peace. All was well here-- of that, he felt certain. Prostrate before the rising mound, Aeolwyn opened his vest and slide out of his tunic. Tying the arms around the waist, he turned the shirt into a cloth skirt of sorts, then for no obvious reason rose up and breathed a heavy sigh. Cool air kissed his gold flesh, and then in some panoramic state he straightened and stretched his arms out, almost looking as if he were groping through the air of this forested domicile. He felt irregular, even awkward, but he was alone in senses, and by his gaze, alone in his little space, for the most part. It was pleasant to have that personal release. The right to be strange, and go without judgement was a rare commodity. His thoughts were amusing and his thin lips twisted into smiles from time to time.
He whirled in absolution, longing to make some earthly connection with the ancient Telath - with the energy - spirits and dreams. More than anything, he longed to give an offering of dance to the primal world. To dream, and to venerate those feelings pure and sacred to the barbari hiding within.
His unflinching strides fleeted across the grassy tufts as if he were a phantom.
In the peaceful hours of dusk he embraced the air, lent himself to soft, flowing movements; some bearing striking resemblances to a dance. Gently caressing space, he traced archaic sigils into the night, moving to the hidden music in his memory, hypnotised to the flicker of shadows playing against the forest wall. Aeolwyn was a shimmering thing of bronze and brown; every movement made painted one shadow upon the ceremoniual mound after the other. Relevating on the tips of his toes he spun once, then hovered to the floor; pantheresque, he lowered to all fours in a feral manner then digressed to a dramatic opposite of prostrate calm.
His hands came up to sleek black locks that streamed down his back like a waterfall. With a leather cord he ensared them, tieing them into several fanciful serpents. His movements were slow, practically ceremonial. His serene expression seemed to bask, and it was coy pleasure that painted itself across his baijani countenance. He looked upon the bubbling fountain like a lover- like a suitor championing the affection of the coming twilight. Hands slithered down from a barbarians throat, unlatching a keepsake of family, and then slowly laying it at the foot of the grassy mound.
In the final moments of his ritual he felt reassurance swell inside him. The feeling was awe-inspiring, and he loved nothing more than to shed skin and dance for the lost places where ancients and spirits dwelled- where legends stalked, and where primal ethers flaunted their power. He was slave to their balance. There was one last thing to do. With care he fashioned a small altar out of dirt. In his travel pack was a single bowl, and from his own rations a honey comb. He set the offering away then danced back several steps. Kneeling in complete veneration. It was time to vibrate his presence. He meditated on the intangible feelings inside-- loneliness, displacement, and veiled apathy. He gave release to the emotions that whirled over him-- what the future of Jaedaxia would bring for his family, now that the Empire despised them. His mind replayed ancient songs, haunting drums, cooing flutes, and violent strings borne of a gypsy caravan. His thoughts became supple and alluring- or shifted to intensity and focus: dances upon the Jaedaxianne hillsides of en voi` resse with a childhood sweethart, Corra'nyan; Imperial forces siezing father Morrowyn and dragging pappa to the Refugee Camp.
He opened himself to an audience, and lent his ears to the sound of nature before he finally rose to begin the dance.
An offering, a dance, a ritual. It was a very spiritual practice, one that too few people performed amongst the prominent pantheons. The worship of the Aetherian gods was more 'sophisticated,' many would have claimed, than the sacrament Aeolwyn executed this evening, instead constituting a liturgy of prayers and pledges of devotion-- or int he recent case: alligience. No longer did people make offerings from natural inclination, or dance to revel in the glory of their deity. People deemed it primitive and tribalistic. Such ceremonies had been how heathenous barbarians worshipped their false gods, the rites of primeval cultures done in the worship of their heretic temples. Those savage, unsophisticated civilizations had all but been wiped out by the expansion of the Allerian Empire, and the dominion of urbanization that had come with it. Last of all of the primal, antediluvian peoples encompassed in the borders of Alleria had likely been the tribes of the Carmelyn plains, the Baijani and their viking-like predecessors simply referred to as Northern humans. Often the savage clans of Arkdun had proved a nuisance to the northern border of the Allerian Kingdom during its fledgling eras. Thus, with the conquest of the Medonian continent, those barbarians were either eradicated or tamed.