Heavy, leaden clouds cover the sky, obscuring the early afternoon sun, promising rain soon, and a brisk wind blows in from the sea, sharp and salty. The doors to the temple are open, for the first time in seeming weeks, but few individuals are coming or going. Inside, there is not the older sounds, of hymns and prayers and readings; nor the more recent and less welcome cries of pain, of misery and shuffled, fearful feet. The temple is quiet, now.

Cynis Chu is in the courtyard, practicing. His robe is rolled down to his waist, and a thin sheen of sweat coats him. He's flushed green, and a number of small cuts cover his hands and arms, where his bowstring snapback has cut him. A poor, often abused tree in the yard is his current target.

Cathak Aoi enters, still wearing her Cathak-in-mourning clothing from her so-called "surrender" to Deled. She bears no Artifacts or Hearthstones, none of the treasures that Cathak has lavished upon her - they would only be stripped away, and perhaps not returned.

"The Inconsiderate Horseman said we had an appointment," she calls out to the practicing monk, without any apparent fear. "I trust this is a good time?"

Cynis Chu's teeth grit at that, and he narrows his eyes, releasing another arrow. "And who are you," he asks, his voice largely affectless. The bow string cracks back, opening another vivid line on his flesh. You suddenly realize, his 'heretic' brand is now gone. "Who are you, to speak of the Antithesis of Sextes Jyles? Do you even recall the story of Sextes Jyles' life?"

Aoi draws a deep breath, seeking to recite from memory.

Aoi closes her eyes as she begins speaking. "Sextes rode across the world," intones Aoi with firm and practiced meter, "for even then when he was newly emerged into the broken world, none could surpass his skill on horseback. He rode day and night, and no where- from the wastes of ice to the north, to the burning sands of the south, to the endless deeps of the west, could he find a place where no life could be found. But in no place could he find where life was not dying- dying from plauge, from famine, from the bitter wine that was pressed from the fruits of the righteous war. And, upon seeing that, he drew his second Breath and Exalted.

"From that day forward, he was known as Sextes Jyles. He walked across the face of Creation, and his hands were healer's hands. Where a mountain had been cracked, he laid his hands upon it, and the mountain was made whole. Where a tree had been shattered, he lay his hands upon it, and the tree was made whole. Where there was famine, because the fields had been burned and salted by the unrighteous armies of the Anathema, he sow grass and wheat and barley, sowed all the green things of the world, and they burst worth- providing food and medecine and all the good things of this world."

Aoi's eyes open. "He did not destroy places of healing, or rely on the claws of a brutish animal to make the world wholly righteous. He was a true ideal, living and breathing vibrantly. He would have stood to defend the weak, and have kept a great Realm from being torn apart by the folly of one."

Cynis Chu hmms, and gives Aoi a considering look. "Did you attend the Cloister as well?" he asks, before shrugging. "In any event, you have missed the critical element of the story; as with the Illiberal Churl, you would seek to stand behind tradition without understanding it, quoting scripture as it proves 'helpful' or 'expedient'. Sextes Jyles ruled well for ten years, and he provided- and saw the people he lead were simply dying more slowly, instead of trully living." He brings the bow back up, releasing another arrow and gaining another cut. "He turned his back on them, and all that he had healed was broken again by his word. His idealism was in the change- the breaking of the old, so that the new could grow forth. And no change can be accomplished without pain," Arrow. Cut. "Without hardship. Without sacrafice."

"Oh, I quite agree," replies the Cathak scion. "And certainly, these are times of hardship. We are besieged by Anathema, distrusted by the people of this province - thank the Dragons there are true heroes, willing to show the world what the Blood of Dragons really means, rather than tell a story of pitiful, murderous thugs who they should bar their hearts against! The change must come through burning away weaknessand breathing out a new future!" Aoi punctuates her remarks with a swirl of blue flame around her fingers, which she hurls into the tree Chu has practiced on, burning up several arrows and causing it to smolder.

Cynis Chu walks towards the tree, pulling out the burning arrow-remains and smothering the flames, barehanded. His licks his lips, arms visibly shuddering as he does so, and sending a smell of charred oak and flesh into the courtyard. "It seems to me," he says softly, "that we have a difference of opinion. Tell me, Aoi. Have you ever tended a garden?" He drops the charred arrow remains into the grass, burn marks visible on hi hands. He returns to his arrow shooting practice, although even holding the bow looks like it's painful, now.

"No," Aoi replies, simply.

Cynis Chu mms. "I did. It's-" he pauses and hisses at one of the cracks, leaving a raised and weeping welt on the recently burned flesh. "ssh... Ah..." He pauses, taking a deep breath, then resuming. "It's one of the elements of training, to become Immaculate in the eyes of Sextes Jyles. Very illuminating. Many, at first, believe the goal is to encourage as much variety and life as possible in their garden. A laudable goal, isn't it?"

"I seem to recall your colleague Hrath using this same metaphor when threatening your death back at the Council," says Aoi. "Here is the goal I find laudable: to build the Realm up, rather than tearing it down."

Cynis Chu shakes his head. "Unchecked growth is not civilization. It's the very essence of madness, of the Wyld." He points outside, out of the temple. "Out there, in this very city, are /countless/ people who forget their place, who mouth only the barest words of the Immaculate Texts once every seventeen days, who prefer comfort over righteousness- and worse, mistake the former as implying the later." His voice starts to pick up now. "And they have been encouraged, outrageously encouraged, by the activities of those who have sought to undermine the Order. You!" He turns, the bow leveled now at Aoi. "You have set the people of Greyfalls back on the road of reincarnation, away from spiritual enlightnment, away from the Dragons themselves! And in doing so, you have weakened the city, weakened the Realm and weakened the Order you profess to have faith in!" His hand, cut and burned, trembles to hold on to the taut arrow.

"Have I?" Aoi asks the question softly, barely above a whisper. "Have I, one of the Dragon-Blooded, lead people further from enlightenment? That is a serious accusation of both myself and the Texts, Brother." She walks, slowly, towards the trembling bow. "When deled arrived in the city, did it become righteous? Did people pray more sincerely, live more mindfully, think more respectfully? No. They became cowards, who could not face their own reflections, or have a civil conversation without brandishing weapons." Almost touching the arrow, she stops. "He cast a long, dark shadow. But he is gone, and you will face the light."

Cynis Chu hesitates at that, before shaking his head. "No. They didn't. They were afraid, because they knew that someone would enforce the Texts on them. And they feared pain, feared change, feared a disruption to their lives. And if the Host of Greyfalls had united behind the Most Enlightened Master- well." He releases the arrow, directly towards Aoi, a sharp shaft whistling through the air. "Not much point in wondering, I suppose."

The arrow whistles breifly, tears through Aoi's fine silks, and audibly snaps. She looks down at it, casually. "Indulge me," she says. "What happens when the city of Greyfalls unites, and one hundred Dreagons fight as one?"

Cynis Chu's eyes narrow at the question, and Aoi's casual-ness. A scowl appears, briefly, before it turns into a hard and hungry grin. "Then the people will prosper, the Anthema will be scourged from the lands, and there will be no cause for moments such as this." And with that, it seems, he's stopped playing around- his eyes break into bright, emerald green and the next three arrows don't have the narrow tips of target arrows, but the broad, scything heads of frog catch arrows.

Aoi moves out of the path of this assault, dodging two of the arrows while a third strikes her solidly, the faintest marks of blood welling around it and staining her garments. "I... agree," she announces. "That is why those who seek only to turn dragon against dragon must be driven away, whatever titles they posess."

The fires of her Anima do not quite flare, but in her eyes, blue flame glows.

Cynis Chu grins and stalks around Aoi, starting to circle her. "Tell me something. I'm told you were present, the morning I was hung on the temple." As he walks, he steps take on an exagerated stride, a steady raise and gait, a rhythm. "Do you know why I was there?" His wounds being to close up as he walks.

"You made contact with Vartabed Cloud Hands," Aoi replies. "You sought to be righteous in spite of Deled. You stood at the Council, and told less wise monks that he was a fraud, not to be followed." She meets his eyeswith a steely gaze, "You were on that door because you were strong. Now you prowly like a wild animal, because you grow weak." Blue flames begin to gutter into being around her.

Cynis Chu shakes his head. "You have some of the facts, but none of the essence. I was there by choice. It was a penance, a chance for me to atone. Atonement is hard, however. I was there because I had forgotten the most important lesson in the Immaculate Order- that of the Perfected Hierarchy. I had thought myself wise, being blind to the greater truths. Having found my interpretations to be better, easier, than simply accepting what was true- that the Most Enlightened Master was a force for righteousness, and that those who opposed him did so from corruption and weakness."

"Oh?" Aoi's eyes narrow. "And when did you come to this realization? Was it at the Council, when you first denounced him? Was it when you and the Vartabed were ambushed? Was it when Deled struck you with such force that you fell unconcious? Was it when your still-unaware body was hauled to the door and nailed up? When Maruko came to see you, filled with feeling, and risked her life against Deled to save you from death?" The flames are swirling, now, and her next word is a demand. "WHEN?"

Cynis Chu swallows hard, licking his lips again, his feral grin fading, being replaced by a scowl and a sneer. A moment later, and that fades as well. "Your voice is great, lady," he says softly. He glances to the side, and lowers the bow to the ground. "And when you speak, I can find myself questioning, again. So often..." he stops, and shakes his head, walking towards Aoi, hands spread wide. Still in the rolling gait of his Form.

Aoi walks forwards, too, smiling at the monk. "Good. 'It is better to light the flame than to curse the darkness,' after all." Her smile fades slightly as she comes within reach of the monk, "But, brother-" she says, before being cut off mid-sentence.

Chu's hand darts, in the middle of Aoi's sentence, as swift as a darting serpent, aiming for the base of her neck. It's not a /hard/ strike- two fingers, moving with unnatural speed and guided by will and essence. "Pay attention now," he says in a low hiss. "And stop quoting the texts, you just embarass yourself."

Aoi, comment about the importance of being honest and forthright still fresh on her lips, falls suddenly silent at the lightning-fast blow, he hand moving too slowly to stop it. As the fires around her gutter out, her eyes widen for the first time since she entered the courtyard, even as the look of supreme confidence freezes on her face.

Cynis Chu's own anima explodes around him, the green light tearing against Aoi's exposed flesh like brambles. He regains his smile at that, and pulls from his quiver a flat, broad-headed arrow. "You know," he says conversationally. "I don't think the Most Enlightened Master really wanted you to die. After all, your blood has the potential for greatness- it's really only your tongue that's proven to be a problem." And so he leverages the flat, sharp arrow into Aoi's mouth, leaning close and looking her in the eyes. "I would really... really... not move. Not that you have a choice." With which he makes a hard, sharp cut, near the back of Aoi's throat, and at the same time, trips her nerveless form, sending her sprawling face first to the ground. Her tongue bulges forward- not cut quite all the way through, but you can feel it, sliding towards the front of your mouth, surely only connected by a few thin strips of muscle. "There. That's consideribly better."

Cynis Chu hmms, leaning over Aoi's fallen form, and pulling her hands behind her back. "Of course, you did challenge the Master of the Hunt, and thus did raise arms against the sanctity of the Wyld Hunt itself in a very meaningful way. So, perhaps something else is appropriate as well..." And so he stabs the same broadheaded arrow through both of Aoi's wrists, chaining them together, behind her back.

Aoi brathes faster and faster, her eyes darting around in her face, looking for any escape - but she cannot move. When her wrists are stabbed, only a wet gurgle escapes her lips, along with a few shreads of her tongue. She writhes, weakly, hoping for any way out - and realizes that she is writhing, now. She can move, if only a little. Slowly, with supreme effort, she turns her head back to face her tormenter. The fear still shows in her eyes, though. She is furious at the indignity, but frantic that she, Cathak Aoi, might actually be reduced to so little. The fear and rage are as one, and with the full force of her Dragon-Blooded will, she forces Chu to that, too.

Cynis Chu's eyes widen, as he hops away from Aoi. "What?" he whispers softly. He licks his lips again, dropping almost unconciouslly into a guard stance, as if the broken woman was going to rise up and kill him for his termity in being in the room, any moment. "You..." he says softly, half-stumbling as he goes. The stumble spooks him- he turns and runs, for the depths of the Temple.

Overhead, thunder rumbles. It begins to rain.

In the rain, Aoi cries at her weakness, and the failure of her plans, and waits - helpless for the first time in her life - for someone to find her.