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Dec. 7th, 2007 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notfromthraThe Nexus is one big cheat. The mutability and elasticity of its very reality means that any part of it can be as new or as old as one wants it to be, can have whatever climate is suitable, whatever character of land is needed, et cetera.
To wit: The original valley of the urRu was occupied and thus shaped to suit their needs for over a thousand years. It carried that ambiance of time and use and constant adjustment. Its energies were the energies of something well-used. Lived in. It was uniquely theirs.
Now, so is this one.
The Standing Stones had been carved, placed, and aligned by urTih the Alchemist, their shape and position and the sigils and patterns carved upon them reflecting energy back and forth between them in a crisscrossing web that protected the entire valley. Intricate circles of them stood not only on the floor of the bowl-like thalweg at the valley's lowest point, but around its rim as well. Too, the part of the valley where their dwellings lay curled inward on a descending spiral, caves spaced at precise intervals among the heavily carved and embellished rocks.
It is probably needless to say that the gardens and waterfalls, streams and pools were all also subtly changed, planted and arranged to a complicated scheme that guided their energies to a specific purpose.
And when all of this was done, after several days of ceaseless slow, patient work, chanting, the spiral whirling of stones and the singing of numbers, the Nexus answered. The reality adjusted itself, as though a bubble of time popped in the centre of the valley.
And now, everything is as it was, which is how the urRu are most at ease, after all; surrounded by the dust of aeons, the ancient hum of energy that had flowed in these patterns for so long that it had become part of the rocks and the trees, the water and the sand. Now they could listen to new songs of realities from the familiarity of their ancient surroundings.
That did not, however, mean all would be at peace.
It was urSu who noticed it first--maybe a vague feeling in his ancient bones or a disquieting pattern in his tea leaves. But soon the others suspected something as well. Something was drawing near. An inevitability. There was nothing for it, they had to know if that inevitability was what they thought it was and they had to know just how near it was drawing.
So the central circular courtyard in the thalweg was staked out for a sand painting. First, urUtt the Weaver spun cords of precise thickness and length, of a certain kind of fibre that proved oddly resonant; while urNol the Herbalist prepared incenses and urAc the Scribe located amongst their dusty records the tellings of how these things had been done before. The others gathered the necessary objects for this work of divinitory art, anything from the actual components for said painting to the carved sticks with which the cords would be strung about the area to the harp and singing bowls placed over there near the tallest of the Standing Stones. The sticks urTih stood upright in the earth in specific locations in accordance with a hypercomplex chart.
Meanwhile, as though strangely removed from all of this, urAmaj the Cook simply continued preparing the evening meal. Some things, after all, continue despite whatever the other events of the day might be.
This preparation took all morning and somewhat past noon. The sun had passed its zenith and was now casting slightly angled shadows against the ground. The painting itself would take hours to create. As a few of the others secured the cords to the sticks in their crisscrossing lines, urZah the Ritual-Guardian made his way to the centre. At the tallest Standing Stone, urUtt had taken position at the harp, urTih amongst the bowls, and urSol the Chanter stood ready to lead the others in a sonorous chorus. For this was the way of the urRu--everything done with song and ritual. Those who did not stand at the centre or by the tall Standing Stone arranged themselves amongst the other stones to form a tetraktys, and were still able to easily reach the cords. Even urAmaj had stepped away from the simmering pots.
A circle was drawn along the ground. The strings plucked in turn, emitting tones that were taken up by harp, bowls, and chanting voices. The grooves that were made in the dusty earth by the plucked strings were filled in with bright sand--aspect lines. And within the circle, along and around, over and under the aspect lines, a spiral formed--a spiral within an elongated isoceles triangle, with great arcs creating paths off of its curves and smaller spirals marching in a line down its center. Colours flared in circles and ellipses and lesser triangles. And all the while the song continued, mixing with the thought coming from and going into the great spiral creation forming on the ground. For hours lines and curves and shapes were created and music soared until at last, when the shadows touched the tip of the painting's triangle, urZah held up a hand and all struck a great chord of harmony that faded into the distance.
Once there was silence, there were only a few beats in which all could examine this painting for what signs it gave them. They stepped toward it. Regarded it meditatively. Then, as the ritual dictated, urZah obliterated the entire painting with a mighty sweep of his tail.
A wind blew, scattering the sand.
"So," urSu intoned quietly, slowly heading for the caves. "They shall come, the Skeksis. They shall come and this time their castle will make the wind howl in our nighttimes."
Silence, again, as the others meditated upon this concept.
"Ah well," urAmaj said at length. "The quiet was good while it lasted. Dinner's on."
For few can argue with the wisdom that sometimes one simply has to move on with things.
To wit: The original valley of the urRu was occupied and thus shaped to suit their needs for over a thousand years. It carried that ambiance of time and use and constant adjustment. Its energies were the energies of something well-used. Lived in. It was uniquely theirs.
Now, so is this one.
The Standing Stones had been carved, placed, and aligned by urTih the Alchemist, their shape and position and the sigils and patterns carved upon them reflecting energy back and forth between them in a crisscrossing web that protected the entire valley. Intricate circles of them stood not only on the floor of the bowl-like thalweg at the valley's lowest point, but around its rim as well. Too, the part of the valley where their dwellings lay curled inward on a descending spiral, caves spaced at precise intervals among the heavily carved and embellished rocks.
It is probably needless to say that the gardens and waterfalls, streams and pools were all also subtly changed, planted and arranged to a complicated scheme that guided their energies to a specific purpose.
And when all of this was done, after several days of ceaseless slow, patient work, chanting, the spiral whirling of stones and the singing of numbers, the Nexus answered. The reality adjusted itself, as though a bubble of time popped in the centre of the valley.
And now, everything is as it was, which is how the urRu are most at ease, after all; surrounded by the dust of aeons, the ancient hum of energy that had flowed in these patterns for so long that it had become part of the rocks and the trees, the water and the sand. Now they could listen to new songs of realities from the familiarity of their ancient surroundings.
That did not, however, mean all would be at peace.
It was urSu who noticed it first--maybe a vague feeling in his ancient bones or a disquieting pattern in his tea leaves. But soon the others suspected something as well. Something was drawing near. An inevitability. There was nothing for it, they had to know if that inevitability was what they thought it was and they had to know just how near it was drawing.
So the central circular courtyard in the thalweg was staked out for a sand painting. First, urUtt the Weaver spun cords of precise thickness and length, of a certain kind of fibre that proved oddly resonant; while urNol the Herbalist prepared incenses and urAc the Scribe located amongst their dusty records the tellings of how these things had been done before. The others gathered the necessary objects for this work of divinitory art, anything from the actual components for said painting to the carved sticks with which the cords would be strung about the area to the harp and singing bowls placed over there near the tallest of the Standing Stones. The sticks urTih stood upright in the earth in specific locations in accordance with a hypercomplex chart.
Meanwhile, as though strangely removed from all of this, urAmaj the Cook simply continued preparing the evening meal. Some things, after all, continue despite whatever the other events of the day might be.
This preparation took all morning and somewhat past noon. The sun had passed its zenith and was now casting slightly angled shadows against the ground. The painting itself would take hours to create. As a few of the others secured the cords to the sticks in their crisscrossing lines, urZah the Ritual-Guardian made his way to the centre. At the tallest Standing Stone, urUtt had taken position at the harp, urTih amongst the bowls, and urSol the Chanter stood ready to lead the others in a sonorous chorus. For this was the way of the urRu--everything done with song and ritual. Those who did not stand at the centre or by the tall Standing Stone arranged themselves amongst the other stones to form a tetraktys, and were still able to easily reach the cords. Even urAmaj had stepped away from the simmering pots.
A circle was drawn along the ground. The strings plucked in turn, emitting tones that were taken up by harp, bowls, and chanting voices. The grooves that were made in the dusty earth by the plucked strings were filled in with bright sand--aspect lines. And within the circle, along and around, over and under the aspect lines, a spiral formed--a spiral within an elongated isoceles triangle, with great arcs creating paths off of its curves and smaller spirals marching in a line down its center. Colours flared in circles and ellipses and lesser triangles. And all the while the song continued, mixing with the thought coming from and going into the great spiral creation forming on the ground. For hours lines and curves and shapes were created and music soared until at last, when the shadows touched the tip of the painting's triangle, urZah held up a hand and all struck a great chord of harmony that faded into the distance.
Once there was silence, there were only a few beats in which all could examine this painting for what signs it gave them. They stepped toward it. Regarded it meditatively. Then, as the ritual dictated, urZah obliterated the entire painting with a mighty sweep of his tail.
A wind blew, scattering the sand.
"So," urSu intoned quietly, slowly heading for the caves. "They shall come, the Skeksis. They shall come and this time their castle will make the wind howl in our nighttimes."
Silence, again, as the others meditated upon this concept.
"Ah well," urAmaj said at length. "The quiet was good while it lasted. Dinner's on."
For few can argue with the wisdom that sometimes one simply has to move on with things.
