Since it is customary for people to leave offerings to loved ones lost to the Boomer here, there are plenty of small altars - each guarded by one of the new Coalition Police now, instead of various Yodh. The Yodhrephath and Yodhsunala both continue to maintain a presence however, but both are a bit less hard-edged. The Yodhsunala speak in soft voices to those who seek them out, since the question of burial rites is the one that usually comes up. The Daughters of Death assure people that Sunala herself blessed the Wound, ensuring that all who perished made it safely to the afterlife regardless of the disposition of their bodies - which Snowcora knows are well-preserved in the dry vacuum of space.
The Shrine Maiden and her guest depend on their cloaks for anonymity among the mourners. This isn't exactly a tourist destination, and only those who lost people regularly visit. As they make their way up the platforms to one that has a better view of the model they pass people knelt in silent prayer, children setting offerings of candy on altars, and others. Spirit Eve isn't a formally observed holiday, unlike Reckoning, but still gets some recognition in the city, especially for those who prefer the Arcane Calendar to the Temple one.
The Mage's Guild guard and guide that accompanies Snowcora and 'Ningi' is wearing unmarked light armor, so as not to give away who his charges might be. The Eeee is very quiet when they reach the Monument. Nobody would dare cause trouble here, after all. Not with Yodhrephath and policemen and citizens who would no doubt react violently to any perceived desecration.
"A memory to the day a city screamed in anguish," Snowcora says softly as she looks over out the torn earth before her. Being this close brings her mood far down, to somber, bordering on grim. She remembers and can still hear the death screams. She remembers the floating remnants in space where Rephath made her 'place'. Politicians, nobles, people playing with so many lives, and before her sits the result. An attack on a mad 'king', that wanted everything, including Alptraum. His madness cost him part of his people. Pity it wasn't more of the ones responsible for the problems, but such is the way of things; the innocent always suffer the most.
"I underssstand the flowerss and food," Ningishzida Belet'Seri whispers almost directly into Snowcora's ear, with only her hood's fabric to act as a barrier. "But.. the sssmall clothesss and tiny furniture confound me." Sure enough, on a nearby altar a rather aged man sets out a small scene, including a tiny hand-carved wardrobe and a bed, where he is laying out tiny clothes. A nearby Yodhsunala is watching this and writing things down in a rather thick book.
Snowcora glances over to watch this. "It's for children," she offers in a soft reply. "Probably some that served him. They likely all perished from the boomer and he grieves for them. He may be the only person that remembers them, and playing out those memories helps keep him remembering. Sometimes a memory is all you leave behind."
"In the Empire, the legacy you leave iss all important," Ningi hisses. "I sssee now. It iss reverssed here. Little thingsss that remind the dead of being alive, yess? And for the living too, I assume. We Naga are not particularly family oriented."
"It is not easy for most that lose someone so suddenly to ... let them go. IT's a wound of the heart that never really heals. And for the elderly that lose their children or grandchildren, it's also a loss of their legacy," Snowcora says quietly. "This isn't uncommon. In Sylvania some will set small fire-balloons alight every year on the anniversary of those that they lost as a symbolic guide to the afterlife."
"The woman with the book, isss sshe Yodhssunala?" Ningi asks quietly. "I would dearly like to visssit Sylvania someday. But Ksh'atga are discouraged of going there."
"Yes, she is," Snowcora says as she looks at that particular Yodh, trying to see if she recognizes her. "Sylvania is ... not a place for most to visit. It is a troubled land full of monsters, though the real ones are very hidden."
The Yodh is middle aged, and not one Snowcora recognizes from the temple. She may be assigned to this specific altar.
Snowcora tries to extend her senses now, to feel the Yodh, the old man, and even out into the Wound. "I am not sure of this Yodh's name. She may spend most of her time here," she says.
There are plenty of Yodhsunala about - they all have a rather similar aura, but they're also the ones that don't seem to move very much. As for this one.. there's enough in her aura to indicate that she knows who the old man is, and who he is leaving the offering for. Which may be the purpose of the book as well: a ledger.
After setting out the little scene, the elderly Eeee adds a final touch - a piece of hard candy, probably a toffee.
Snowcora watches the candy be places. She sighs and lowers her head. "I'm sorry," she murmurs to herself; the guilt of being part of this still with her.
As if on cue, the Yodhsunala closes her book and tucks it under one arm as she steps forward to help the old man stand back up with her free one. "Thank you, Madira," the man says. The Yodh smiles briefly, then listens to the man tell her who the offerings are for and ramble about other things for a few moments, before he finally starts shuffling downward.
"What happenss to the offerings?" Ningi whispers to Snowcora.
"This place should not have happened," Snowcora mutters to herself as she looks up and watches the old Eeee leave. Her attention shifts back to Madira, for a moment. Snowcora approaches the small display soon afterward and looks down. The human then looks over t the Yodh and asks respectfully, "Yodhsunala, what will become of his offering?"
The sonar pulse from the Yodh causes Snowcora's cheeks to tingle. If she recognizes Snowcora, she doesn't say so. "Permanent offerings sit for ten days, and then are moved to a special House of the Dead on Mt. Sunala. There is only so much altar space here, and most cannot afford family shrines."
Snowcora nods softly at this. "Thank you. For the information and for your care of those gone, and those that mourn," she says and bows her head.
"It is my honor to serve this shrine, and know those who come here," the Yodh says.
There's a tug on Snowcora's sleeve, as Ningi whispers to her, "There are no mortal remainss for these shrines? It iss all memory?"
"The weapon erased all the people and buildings that once stood out there," Snowcora whispers back to Ningi. "There are no remains left on this world of them. So, yes, all that remains is memory."
"Memory is what matters most," the Yodh says - an Eeee this close can't help but overhear. "When no one remains to remember one who has died, they reach the end of the Sea of Souls and are destroyed.. or recycled, according to the Yodhrinala."
"For details on the Sea itself and what it is like, the Barsunala would be the best to ask. He visits the place," Snowcora notes politely.
"My main interesst iss how the dead are prepared and pressserved and remembered," the pale Naga with a black skull painted onto her face notes. "The afterlife isss.. beyond my purview."
"Your loss," Snowcora notes quietly. To the Yodh she asks, "This naga is a visitor, learning of our ways. Is there any way she may observe funeral rites that will not be considered blasphemous?"
The Yodh seems at a loss at first, then notes, "The more witnesses there are to a funeral, the better it is. As for preparation of the body... you will have to ask permission of Yodhsunala K'Shasti, who oversees such things."
Snowcora tilts her head to look at the naga. "Which do you wish to pursue?" she asks.
"Both if possible," Ningi replies. "Preparation is of practical interessst, but the actual funeral rites are of perssonal value to me. I work with Eeee asss well, and need to know how to care for them should they.. come under my care."
Snowcora looks tack to the Yodhsunala. "Where may we find Yodhsunala K'Shasti?" she inquires.
"The Shrine on Mt. Sunala," is the Yodh's reply, and then she turns to look in the direction of the mountain.. even though it isn't visible through the city towers.
"Thank you, Yodhsunala. We will not take any more of your time," Snowcora says and steps back. "Thank you for your service."
The Yodh bows, and goes back to overlooking her section of the Monument.
"Shall we go to the Temple, then?" Snowcora asks of the naga. She also has to shift a bit and stop herself from gasping. Her 'creeper' is really going at her at the moment; serious milking and, well, mating. It's only the somberness of this place that is currently keeping her from exploding in Inala's bliss.
"You'll have to climb the Pilgrims Path unless you're allowed to fly in, Shrine Maiden," Raffio notes as they begin their way back down to the ground. "Can you summon your dragon for that? Otherwise I can arrange transport to the base of the Path."
"We should walk as I am not going alone. It is more respectful," Snowcora notes to Raffio, then nods to Ningi. "And it is more of the experience she seeks. The rights and rituals. The path is part of that."
The Path is well lit, even though the day is far from over. In Babel, there is always shadow somewhere due to the buildings and landscape itself. There is a bit of traffic, but it is spread out and clustered in family groups. Some look very well off, but a few paces ahead could be a group dressed in rags. On Mt. Sunala, your station in life doesn't matter (although it's only recently been officially enforced). There are Yodhsunala at the various waypoints along the Path, which can switch from an actual switch-backed path to long stretches of actual stairs and platforms. "It issssn't so bad as climbing the great ziggurats of Nagai City," Ningi notes half way up. "Nobody iss trying to run you over here."
"That would be disrespectful," Snowcora notes, "And such would not be tolerated. This is a place of mourning." Walking is also helpful, it's keeping her mind off her self-writhing underwear. It does cross her mind Gorphat may not approve of the use of this undergarment, but surely as the Shrine Maiden this is fine. "Do not touch anything unless you are given permission to, here," she warns. "Rules are strict."
"I am very good about not touching thingss," Ningi insists, and then looks behind them. There's a group of Nagas further back, and the Mage has been a bit paranoid about being uncovered somehow - despite Babelite Nagas generally following Babelite custom, and probably not even aware of what a Ksh'atga is. "The air isss charged," she notes. "Tomorrow iss the Apex of Sspirit. Not asss infused with wild magic as a holiday, but still noticeable to those sensssitive to Spirit Magic."
"I am well aware," Snowcora admits; she can feel it too, and poor Alptraum was haunted many times on various holidays. "And do not worry so much, as long as you follow rules, you are fine here. You do not need to be from Babel to visit."
"Do the Yodhsunala observe the notion of.. professsional courtesy?" Ningi asks after they pass one of the Yodhsunala overseeing the path. "Or doesss that only extend to religiouss functionaries?"
"I have only ever seen it extended to other Yodh," Snowcora admits, "But if you ask properly and show respect, they may extend it to you as well. Explain it is so that you can properly tend to Eeee in the Empire and they may be very forthcoming."
"Being respectful isss usually something others do towards me," Ningi admits. "I think I have been managing well ssso far though. You do not have an urge to flay me, do you?"
"Not yet," Snowcora notes with a sidelong glance. "Just remember, manners."
"Ssso.. just to be clear.. tasting thingsss iss taboo?" the serpent asks. "Should I restrain my tongue?"
"Licking things is not proper here, no," Snowcora confirms and gives the naga another sidelong glance.
"What about extra limbs?" the four-armed Naga asks. "Should I keep one sset hidden?"
"Extra limbs are fine. Remember, Eeee have giant hands on their backs, they just call them wings," Snowcora points out. She then has to pause on the path and bite her lip as her body explodes in a burst of, well, orgasmic bliss. Okay, so maybe wearing this garment was a bad idea. It sure makes a long walk ... distracting.
"Are you having difficulty?" Ningi asks, her skull-masked face appearing right before Snowcora's. "You have been having small spasmsss in your gait. Do you need to resst?"
"I am ... fine. My clothing is just beeeeeeeing, " Snowcora pauses, "Difficult. It will pass."
"Difficult?" Ningi presses. "The cloak? Iss it necessary?"
"Not the cloak, the undergarment," Snowcora says and waves her hands. "It is nothing."
"Humansss use so many layers of clothing," Ningi notes. "If it iss causing problemss, simply remove it."
"I can't. Don't ask. Lets keep going," Snowcora says a bit gruffly and resumes walking.
Of course, more exertion seems to further stimulate the Creeper. More body heat, after all. Ningi doesn't having any trouble with the path (it's the stairs that slow her down). Of course they can't go any faster than the group ahead of them. "I think I am doing very well," the Naga notes. "I can look up at the sssky without getting dizzy now. And yet sssome people are clausssstrophobic. Which I would conssssider normal."
"I am not claustrophobic at all," Snowcora notes as she walks and tries to ignore the party going on down below or frankly how much the creeper is nursing on her; feels like a steady stream from her teats now. "But then I am used to flying in various ways. And yes, you do seem to be doing very well."
For most of the rest of the journey, Ningi does the bulk of the talking. This at least serves as some distraction for Snowcora, until things build to where the Creeper cannot be ignored. During one of those, she nearly tripped! The path widens as they near the summit, passing through older shrines and cemeteries. Finally the main Temple is in sight, beyond the more public area set aside for the Yodhrinala hospital. Indeed, some of the pilgrims are heading for that instead of the many shrines and mausoleums.
It may have been a bit of a sight when Snowcora had to stop on the path and disappear into a fit or orgasmic bliss. Might have scared a few people, too. But, at least it means she should be safe from another attack for a bit. "The Temple is ahead. You can ask permission to see preparation up there, from the Yodh named at the memorial," Snowcora says, trying to act as if nothing happened.
Ningi seems distracted by the semi-permanent looking Yodhrinala encampment. "Isss that a hosspital? And why doesss that odd tree dissturb my Spirit Magic senssse. And.. ah, the Temple. It is the big ssstructure then? I don't sssuppose I could meet Ssunala herself?"
"That is a hospital, they treat children, and then those that have fatal ailments," Snowcora notes as she glances toward the hospital. "As for the tree, that was ... from some incident with the Barsunala I think. He stopped a monster invasion somehow by turning it into a tree," The question, though, about the Sunala, though, gives her pause. "I ... rather doubt you would be able to see her. Few are permitted that."
"Yessss.. I can ssee how it would be difficult," Ningi admits, bobbing her head. "I imagine it would count asss.. cutting in line? You are only allowed to meet Death once, usually."
"Well, it's not quite that. It is more that ... it's hard to explain. Onlly the High Priestess and Her son have unfettered access to Her," Snowcora says as she struggles for how to explain things. "There are those that do not believe she is who she is, and would try anything to prove that it is not Sunala. Of course their fate would end ... horribly. But, Sunala has no wish to end people before their time. Death is ... kinder, and more lonely, than can easily be explained. She has the hardest job of all existence, but she bears it because someone must."
"I have never found death to be difficult in itsself," Ningi notes as she slithers towards the Temple. "But I do wish people would put in more effort to be cleaner about it. At the very leassst, if you know you are going to die sssoon, you could try to do it lying in a tub."
Snowcora stops. "No. Just ... stop. That was inappropriate," she says, quietly. "People dying are not jokes, and they don't do it to inconvenience you. I am tied to Sunala, and the Barsunala. I know what he has experienced, what he has had to do. What you have just said denies and takes away what dignity can be afforded to those at their end. Do not say it again, or you may find yourself wishing you had a tub." The last bit comes with an odd, oppressive, air to it, like the shadows have grown heavier and something dark may be coming.
"Forgive me," the Naga says, dipping her head nearly to the ground. "It iss.. different.. in the Empire. Not everyone receivess Ksh'atga servicess. Those who do know that it isss set for them usually feel honored, and do try to make sssure they will be well preserved. It iss hardest for us with Mages and warriors of note. They tend to not die cleanly."
"Death is rarely clean, or fair," Snowcora notes as the feelings in the air dissipate. "Dying is far too easy, living is not. There are so many that deserve death that live, and many that die that do not. No one ever stops to thank those that deal with it all, in spite of the pain it also brings. True, some grow cold, but others do not. I don't see torn meat and bodies, I see a life often ended too early, or a father whose children will not be able to hug them again. I cannot so easily ... forget the person and just see the body."
"Thisss iss why Ksh'atga do not do well in sssocial sssituationss," Ningi notes, looking up again. "We have no tiess, no bonds with the living, generally. We ssspend all of our time with the dead."
"If you want to serve the dead better, get to know the living," Snowcora suggests and heads on towards the Temple. "Come on."
As they climb the steps of the Temple, the pair is blocked by a barsunala guard - a familiar one to Snowcora, because she seduced him and his partner during a previous visit. "Please pull back your hoods and state your names and business here," the guard challenges.
Ningi pulls her own hood back, revealing her rather garish face.
Snowcora draws her hood back. "Shrine Maiden. I am escort of this Naga, who has traveled far to learn the ways of Sunala so that she may better serve Eeee that come into her care in the Empire," she answers with a soft, but firm, voice.
"Maiden!" the barsunala squeaks in surprise. "I.. was there anyone in particular you were coming to see?" he asks.
"She would like to speak with Yodhsunala K'Shasti if that would be possible," Snowcora answers. "Is there a problem? You seem shocked."
"I.. wasn't expecting to see you again," the man sputters, then clears his throat. He turns and waves to an acolyte, sending her off to relay the message to Yodhsunala K'Shasti. Then he stands awkwardly while they wait for a reply. "Have you been well?" he finally asks Snowcora.
"Reasonably so. Taxed, now and then, but surviving," Snowcora notes. "You look well. And with your pants."
The man's ears blush, and Ningi seems confused by the conversation. "Do the men not wear pantsss usually?" she asks. "He is a male, yess? It is hard to tell for me. Does wearing pants mean he hasss been promoted in rank?"
"IT is more that the last time I saw him, he was not wearing any. I was gently teasing," Snowcora explains.
"I.. do not know the context.." the Naga admits, then looks at the barsunala again. "Although if an Eeee wishesss to be unambiguous about hisss gender, not wearing pantsss would be the besst solution."
This makes Snowcora snort. "You haven't seen many Sylvanian Eeee, then. They are more obvious," sh enotes.
"I have met vampiresss," Ninga points out. "They are not uncommon in my Sphere. But Mages all wear robesss, which hide all but the head or handsss." She then presents her four hands, and asks, "How could you know I was female if you only sssaw my face and handsss?"
"Smaller hands and a more delicate face," Snowcora points out.
"You can tell that?" Ningi asks, looking.. shocked? "Naga vary so much in size and shape, I did not think a non-Naga could pick up sssuch differences. Generally, you sssshould go by the thickness of the split scutes."
"I can tell without any of that. I have senses beyond .... mortal creatures," Snowcora remarks vaguely.
"I just check the scutes," the barsunala says, just before the acolyte runs up and whispers into his ear. "Ah.. Mistress K'Shasti can see you. Please follow this acolyte."
The acolyte (a pretty young one at that) gives a short bow and bobs on her feet a bit, eager to be off.
Snowcora leans over and kisses the guard's cheek. "Don't be a stranger, or too fond of pants," she teases him, then looks to the acolyte. A Yodhsunala in training? She gestures for the naga to follow.
The girl is definitely full of energy, as she tends to rush ahead to an intersection or door, then turn and wait for her charges to catch up. Once the enter a long corridor, she actually slows down enough to ask, "So.. how do you get to be the Shrine Maiden?"
"You get chosen, then must endure ... much," Snowcora says. "It is not a position for most. It involves much suffering."
"How do you get chosen?" the girl asks next. "And.. do you have to be human?"
"The Goddess' choose. And no, you do not have to be human," Snowcora claims. "Why do you ask?"
"There's never been a Shrine Maiden before, I've heard," the acolyte notes. "So.. you're the first one for Babel. Aren't you?"
"Yes?" Snowcora answers as she continues to follow.
"Do you move on to another city later?" the girl asks, pausing to open another heavy door at the bottom of a narrow stairway. There's definitely a chemical odor revealed by the opening door.
"I ... do not know. It is possible I may simply cease to be when I am no longer needed," the albino says and shrugs a bit. She doesn't mention the part that when the Barsunala passes, it will be her end as well.
The acolyte leads them into a large chamber lit only by candles - which burn with blue flames. There are several stone slabs (or altars) with bodies on them, being tended to by Yodhsunala in rubber aprons. One of these turns to approach the arrivals. She's dark-furred, except for her hands, which appear to be bleached white (with other discolorations) from years working with harsh substances. "I am Mistress K'Shasti," she says in a surprisingly deep voice - probably from years of breathing in harsh fumes. "I recognize you, Shrine Maiden. And your companion.. Ksh'atga?"
Snowcora bows, then steps aside. "Yes. She wishes to learn of your art so that she may properly tend to Eeee that pass in the Empire. That is, if you permit it," she says politely. "You may call her 'Ningi."
Ningi bows respectfully to K'Shasti, and presents her own hands.. which also show chemical staining beyond their pale whiteness.
"Come," the Yodhsunala says, and heads for the first slab, where acolytes are packing an elderly body in salt. "This is the most basic treatment for drying the body. It is the first phase for some, the only phase for most. It renders the body suitable for simple entombment or burial. Not the slits made in strategic areas. These prevent the build-up of gasses, and encourage the draining of fluids."
Snowcora stays a few steps back. While she's seen death, this part is ... disturbing for her. Even with all the things she has been through, somehow this just seems ... worse. So, she draws her cloak a bit tighter around herself and grows quiet.
"What do you do with the used sssalt?" the Naga asks. "It is washed and re-precipitated. Some will be set aside for use in memorial candles, should the family wish to purchase them," K'Shasti explains.
Snowcora's face is not the most expressive, her brow just shifts a bit. The good thing here is, this is so bad that even the creeper's 'work' isn't really causing her to build up to anything here. It's just ... too much grim for anything to break through.
"Salt dessication is also the first step in other preparations," the Yodhsunala explains, and leads them to the next slab. At first glance, it seems similar to the first.. except the workers here are wearing rubber gloves, and the salty substance being applied is more yellow. "Long term preservation is done with natron," she explains. "It causes a curing reaction that is much more powerful than salt. Once it is complete, the liquefied organs will be removed and cosmetic work done to make the body more presentable. This is done by some old families, who wish to have the body remain part of the household."
Mummification. Snowcora heard stories of such things in Sylvania. Such practices were stopped long ago, after the necromancer wars used embalmed bodies like that to form new armies and slaughter families while they slept.
Ningi lets out an appreciative hiss. "Momento Mori," she says. "I underssstand the appeal it would have to a multi-generational family.. I think."
"NErcomancers used such to form armies and wipe out families in a single night in Sylvania," Snowcora notes, quietly.
"There are many towers in Babel whose lower levels are filled with past generations, still lounging in their parlors," K'Shasti says. "Of course, necromancers are dealt with swiftly in Babel. But the old families didn't need to fear the dead rising against them so much as the living." She gestures to the next slab. The body there looks like it's been salted, but is also having liquid pumped into it, smelling strongly of brine.
"They once thought that in Sylvania too, but then Amenlichli came," Snowcora continues. "It was once a beautiful country of fields and folk ... and now it is under perpetual storms and the land lies rotting."
"You don't need necromancy to achieve such a state," K'Shasti notes. "But Babel does not have that for an excuse. For burial in limited space, the body may be cured inside and out first, and then taken to a walk in oven. Over twenty days, it will continue to cure and contract, until it is very dry and shrunken. Suitable for an urn or privately owned House of the Dead. We also extract the body fat, for use in ritual soaps and candles. It is considered good fortune to bathe a newborn with soap made from a successful ancestor, and there are many uses for corpse-candles."
"What preservesss the longest with the least.. disfigurement?" Ningi asks.
Snowcora clenches her mostly numb right hand and just steps back. The shadows here are natural, but she finds some comfort simply to disappear into them for a while, as it were. This place is just ... unsettling.
"Petrification via magic," K'Shasti notes. "But that is expensive. Ironically, transmutation of flesh into wood or mineral works best with living subjects. But for those who have the patience, there are the Caves of Eternity. The environment in them is special. A body is placed into a chamber and then sealed in with clay. After several years, the body will produce a waxy substance from its fat that will eventually become as tough as stone, even preserving the contents of the internal organs. It does require deciding the pose beforehand, but the result is comparable to a statue. Even if the statue is of the person in death, rather than life."
"That soundss fasscinating," Ningi notes, sounding excited. "Are there any such ssstatues I might see?"
"None are ready to be exhumed at the moment, and the others are all in private possession," K'Shasti says. "The reasons for the more elaborate forms of preservation vary from family to family, of course."
Snowcora thinks it sounds grim and disturbing. People should not be treated as statues.
"Vary?" the Naga asks. "What other purpose than remembrance could their be?"
"The survivors do not always have fond memories of the deceased," K'Shasti says. "Some of the more elaborate preservations may even be funded by the deceased's enemies, so that they can be used as.. coatracks.. and such. A final humiliation. Such things are no longer allowed, thankfully."
This makes Snowcora twitch and feel rather, well, angry. But, she minds her manners here and says nothing.
Ningi is also a bit speechless. "My patients require preservation for.. posterity," she eventually says, remembering at the last minute not to talk about why they require such preservation. "The mummification with natron interestssss me. Iss the formula very difficult?"
Snowcora lets out a sigh of relief. The naga at least remembered to mind leaving out certain parts of her job. That's something.
For some few minutes, things descend into technical details, including the best means of transporting preserved bodies should it be necessary. Once the chemistry lesson is over, Ningi remembers to ask, "The Yodhssssunala at the Monument kept a ledger of offeringsss, and mentioned a ssspecial House of the Dead for them all. I am curiousss as to how such a thing isss.. realized."
Snowcora perks up a little at that, at least. It's not her interests, but it could be fascinating to see. She still remains in the darker part of the room for now, though.
"It is my understanding that a large section of the old catacombs was devoted to the Monument, but I have never seen it. Your acolyte attendant should be able to take you there, however."
"Will that not be too much trouble? We do not wish to disrupt the activities of the Temple," Snowcora says from where she stands.
"I am not familiar with the record-keeping group, so I cannot say if it will disrupt them or overjoy them that somebody is interested in their efforts," K'Shasti admits. "They show their devotion with ink-stained fingers instead of bleached ones is about all I know of them."
"Then all we can do is ask," Snowcora concedes, "If Ningi wishes to."
"Yess, I would very much wish to see a memorial archive," the Naga says. "Such recreationsss of a person's life and achievements have been suggested in the past, but have been difficult to organize."
"All right. When you are done here, we will speak to the acolyte," Snowcora says and bows her head.
There are a few more minutes of details, and a promise from Ningi to try and get the Yodhsunala techniques officially practiced in the Empire before the Naga is ready to leave. The acolyte knows the way - apparently that's what 'page' acolytes are for. Some of the catacombs are familiar from Alptraum's original stay with the Yodhsunala, but those are also left behind. Then they arrive in area that is.. bizarre. There are fancy chandeliers, mismatched furnishings and very old rugs forming arbitrary rooms, broken up with walls of cabinets and boxes and somewhat harried-looking Yodh.
Snowcora finds this ... rather different and on many levels, disturbing. "Please do not let us distract you," she says, quietly, to the Yodh present. "This Naga is a guest from the empire and is learning the burial practices and rites of Babel."
"We.. we just handle the Monument.." the Yodh they are brought to says. Her desk is covered in several of the same sort of ledgers the one at the Monument was writing in. "But you aren't here to find any particular personal shrine are you? We do our best, but we aren't set up for visitors. We.. have a few years of unopened crates to process still."
"No, no one in particular," Snowcora confirms. She would only be curious if Alptraum's 'mother', the srinala, had a place down here, but that is highly unlikely.
"Oh well in that case.." the accountant says, and then seems lost for a moment. "In that case," she repeats, "I suppose you can just.. wander around? You don't get lost easily, do you? I've learned to navigate by furniture style.. We have a lot of donated furniture here. Can't use it, of course. Wouldn't be proper."
"I don't get lost easily," Snowcora says. This is generally true as she can navigate by aura, after all.
"Well, if you do just.. uh.. grab whoever you find along the way," the Yodh notes. "There should be a few dozen curators in the maze at any given time."
"All right," Snowcora says. She's surprised this Yodh seems, well, a bit of a ditz, but she supposes it must take all types. To the naga she says, "This is your interest. Look where you wish, but remember to not touch anything."
The pair don't get very far before running into an obstacle - a literal wall of crates, each with a series of numbers and symbols on their sides. Getting around that leads to another wall, and so on, until they have to backtrack and take an entirely different path, always making sure they head into furnished areas. The odd rooms are divided not by walls but by shelves, bookcases and cabinets stacked to the ceiling. Some shelves are crammed full of things, and others are comparatively bare, but every room has more of the coded crates in them, from one to a dozen. Everything on the shelves has some sort of tag tied to it, with more code on it written in very fine script. There are tiny bits of furniture, small paintings, jewelry, toys and.. miniature weapons and even dolls.
They do come across another Yodhsunala in one of the rooms - this one furnished like a bedroom. She has one of the thick ledgers open on a portable podium, and is bent over sorting through an open crate, oblivious to the new arrivals.
"Ahem," Snowcora says, trying to be polite and to not surprise the Yodhsunala. Granted she looks like a freaky ghost, but surely that will not cause any problems with them. "Do you have a moment?"
"Just.. a.. moment.." the Yodh mutters in reply, finally pulling up a small hand-mirror. She makes a mark in the ledger book, then moves a few things aside on one bookshelf to carefully place the mirror. "Just put the next crate anywhere but under the bed.." the Yodh says, before noticing that she isn't talking to another Yodh. She looks from Snowcora to Ningishzida and back again slowly. "You're here.. so I'm going to assume you belong here," she eventually says. "What did you want?"
Snowcora draws back her hood. "I am the shrine maiden. This is a guest from the Empire here to learn how to properly care for departed Eeee. But, my questions are somewhat unrelated. Do you ... have any shrines to the Cenesta family? Or to anything connected to the Barsunala?" she inquires. "And ... have you had an increase in donations lately? Or any ... odder than usual donations?"
"The Cenestas have their own House of the Dead, I know that much," the Yodh replies. "It's in the necropolis." She then turns to one of the shelves, and picks up a figure. It's hand-carved and painted, with fabric for wings. But it has white hair and eyes, and a symbol on the chest that is different from the Grave.. the Traveling Grave. "Plenty of Barsunala tokens though. Not unusual for the Wound offerings. Traditional for family that dies abroad and can't be returned.. because that have further to travel to reach Mt. Sunala. I.. don't know about recent offerings though. I'm only up to the seven-thousands, which would be.. uh.. two or three years back."
"Only specific sorts of offerings are preserved here though," she notes. "I'm not sure that any 'odd' things would be cataloged."
"Then I would suggest you do check to see if there have been an increase in recent ones," Snowcora says as she peers at the statue. "Because ... the general tried to use corrupted still-birth Srinala's as weapons. You know about the tree in the Courtyard? The General could potentially used poisoned offerings for here as a way to get into the Temple silently as well. She has ... likely has information on how to build things called a God Box, for example, which could be used to transport spirits and other ... creatures. Not to say such has happened, but it's worth checking."
"There.. are supposed to be alarms around the Monument to detect magic or enchantments," the archivist says. "And we know the families that bring permanent offerings. There is a size limit, after all. How big would these things be? We don't keep any of the temporary items, like flowers or candy. Not even the tiny cakes."
"They would be the size of a jewelry box, for example," Snowcora notes. "And feel a bit cold to the touch."
"We'll have to do a detection sweep of the crates," the archivist sighs. "At least the we put a stop to the curse dolls. I'll send word to the Chief Exorcist. Nobody has reported anything odd during packing though that I'm aware of."
"The horror, you have to do your job," Snowcora thinks, a bit exasperated by the attitude. But, instead of voicing that, she asks, "Curse dolls?"
"Hmm?" the Yodh replies, a bit lost in thought. "Oh yes.. you know.. to curse the dead? People always try to sneak them in on some enemy's grave.. and the Boomer took out a large chunk of the nobility. They always have enemies. The curses are pretty weak ones though, without any Yodhzakaro selling them."
"They may be making a comeback. The Yodhzakaro, not curse dolls," Snowcora notes. "I have heard a new one was anointed recently."
"Oh.. not sure what they'd do nowadays though," the archivist says. "But I suppose they'll change too then, right? You'd be the one to know!"
"I believe so," Snowcora says, "And pardon my manners. This naga here may have some questions regarding these shrines. Perhaps tell us about the ones in this room?"
"The Naga isn't your familiar?" the Yodhsunala asks in surprise, then looks more closely at Ningi.
"No, but she can be overly familiar," Snowcora comments.
"You sssaid you are up to the ssseven thousandss?" Ningi asks. "What doesss that signify?"
"Well, besides that we are hopelessly understaffed for this.. it means that this hall is for the seven-thousandth-and-such family to register," the archivist explains. "This shelf is for seven-thousand-and-forty-two, the Hafnishes. There are about twelve-thousand registered now at the Monument. And we don't expect any more to show up at this point. Most of those lost are.. lost. They were entirely wiped out by the Boomer, no outside relatives."
"Do you resent this job?" Snowcora inquires.
"Job?" the Yodh asks, then says, "This is not a job, or a task. It is our duty as Yodhsunala. I resent that we'll never have enough space or time to complete this, and that.. that we don't have all of the records we need!" Now the Yodh seems a bit more worked up. "The Palace, the nobles.. they had huge holdings. Dozens of Houses of the Dead, thousands of vassals and workers and who knows in those towers.. and we don't know their names!"
"There is a solution to that," Snowcora says calmly and quietly. "A way to get the names."
"We record them at the Monument, but.." the Yodh winds down, then looks at Snowcora. "What way?" she asks.
"Ask the Barsunala to find them. I know he has walked the remains of the Wound, amongst those lost and forever now held in timeless cold," Snowcora explains. "He may be able to get their names for you."
"His time would be better used to bring them where they belong," the Yodh says softly. "Our duty is our duty. The Avenger and Rockmore had the memories.. but no one mind can hold all of that and still function. I can at least curse the High Princess though. Her name I know."
Ningi begins staring at the shelves, and then deeper into the complex, seemingly random and endless array of rooms. Something seems off about the Naga.. different from her usual sense of being off.
"As you wish," Snowcora replies. "I just wanted to offer that he is here to help all, you included. I am not trying to imply that ..." And now Snowcora trails off and peers at the naga. "Is something wrong?" she asks of the serpent.
Ningi seems frozen, except for her tongue. It takes several moments before she responds. "The Wound. I thought it pressserved sso Babel will not forget what wasss done to it. But that'ss not it at all. It's a grave. An empty grave, and the Monument isss the headstone and.. Names. Thirty thousand names. The Imperial Catacombs hold.. less than a thousand, I think. I want to ssstay underground. I don't want to accept thisss."
"A great many horrors have happened in the world. No one wants to accept this. But, we must remember it, and strive to ensure it can never happen again," Snowcora says, gently, and rests her hand upon the naga's shoulder. "These places are hard; to those lost and to those who survive. But, they are important."
"But.. but we did it!" the Naga hisses, sounding in pain. "We had the Boomer! It.. wasn't ssstolen at all. It wasss all arranged. We were allies, the Empire and Babel. They could ssstill be alive. Still be in power there. The Emperor purged ssso many ministers when he returned from the dead.."
"A handful of people did it, and those are gone," Snowcora says, though she would want to pursue what that meant. "Many in power sit in ivory towers, moving and using people like so many grains. Few ever see the effects of the decisions or the costs. Take what you see here back with you. Help others understand the costs, so it never happens again."
"The dead are far less treacherouss than the living," Ningi hisses. "I still prefer them.. jusst not in.. numbersss like this. And.." she waves her hands at the shelves and crates of hopes and memories.
"Not all. There are also a great many good people," Snowcora says, her hands still upon the naga's shoulder. "Don't curse the many for the actions of a few."
"I don't want to curse them," Ningi claims, clenching her four fists. "I want to.. oversee their remainsss.."
"The many, or the few?" Snowcora asks, sounding confused. Is she angry at those who did this, or...?
"The few.. and the many," Ningi says. "Because then.. they would not be lossst. And the few.. I could punish them over and over.."
"They will be punished," Snowcora promises. "All things come to final justice."
"Ssso isss it wrong of me to wish it sso?" Ningi asks.. seriously... of both women.
"Vengeance is the path of Rephath," the archivist notes.
"It is ... best to come to peace with things, before it consumes you. You may discover otherwise that you become the monsters you hated," Snowcora advises.
It isn't clear if the serpent calms or not, but her fists unclench. "I am jussst a Grave Wyrm, it iss not my place to passs judgment," she hisses, with a bit less venom.
"You are a person, and you care," Snowcora counters. "No one is 'just' anything. Think about it. About how large the world is. The likelihood of you even being born is so amazingly small. That makes all special. All important. What you do, what the Yodhsunala do, is important. You preserve the memories of those who were, so that their special light remains."
"Only those deemed worthy of it though," Ningi notes, and gestures again to the huge catacombs-spanning memorial. "All thiss.. for people that could not afford a private memorial. This iss at odds with Babel's reputation, where life isss cheap for all but the wealthy. Which isss the truth then?"
"All are equal before Death," the archivist replies.
"I could not say it better," Snowcora says.
"Then thisss is the truth," Ningi says, indicating the memorials. "Death isss not uncaring and life isss alwaysss worth something to family."
"Of course Sunala cares. Greatly," Snowcora says quietly. "And family matters."
"I have no family," Ningi says. "Few in Nagai City know their parentss. We are cast out into the ssstreets as wigglers. Some survive on their own. Otherss are taken in as apprentices. Sssome get spared because of.." and here she gestures to her pale scales.
"Being different," Snowcora adds.
"My type end up ass Ksh'atga.. if we can master Ssspirit," Ningi explains. "Certain markss are favored."
"My type are usually burned at the stake," Snowcora claims. "I envoy that you have a better ... path."
"I will not have a shrine to me," Ningi notes. "Unlesss I do sssomething exceptional."
"Do you want one?" Snowcora asks, curious.
"I have to earn it," Ningi claims. "That isss our way. That iss.. why I am trying to learn more about other culturesss. If I can introduce sssomething new to my profession, I will be remembered."
"There is much you could learn here with the Yodhsunala," Snowcora claims, then rubs her chin. She looks to the Yodh, then asks, "Would you be willing to take on an apprentice to help with the cataloging here?" She then glances back to the naga, and asks, "And would you be interested in helping?"
"I would like to help Mistress K'Shasti, but.." Ningi says, and looks around the memorials again. "More hands are needed here. And thisss isss important, too." She also raises up her four arms at the mention of 'more hands'.
"You could still offer one or two days to Yodhsunala K'Shasti, but spend most effort here," Snowcora suggests. "It would provide the widest range of ... experience. But, they would have to approve first." then she looks thoughtful. "And Sunala herself may have to approve as well."
"Well.. you can learn the cataloguing system without official approval," the archivist says, and looks to Snowcora. "Can you put in the request? I.. don't know what your position with the Temple is, since you're part of every Temple.."
"I could. I could also ask the Barsunala to pretition the case if he feels it is appropriate. I meet with him fairly regularly," Snowcora claims.
"If that is the case then you should probably carry enough weight yourself," the Yodhsunala asks.
"Perhaps. He does not have to listen to me, after all," Snowcora points out. "I will consider the best course here and act upon it."
"Chief Archivist Vashline is the one to seek out," the archivist says. "She authorizes the training of all acolytes.. if we ever got any acolytes."
"Where is she?" Snowcora inquires. "We could go ask her now."
"She should be deeper into the catacombs," the Yodhsunala says, and gestures in a general direction. "Just.. wait, you are both practically deaf. Listen instead for the swearing. The loudest swearing will be Mistress Vashline."
Snowcora's bare brow arches a bit. "So, listen for swearing. All right," she says. She doesn't comment on how swearing here might be a bit blasphemous.
The pair does encounter several more archivists as they venture along, and each is able to point them more accurately. They come upon a parlor layout, with the table covered by a leather mat. An older Yodhsunala is sitting at chair, hunched over and wearing some sort of magnifying eyepiece as she tries to apply glue to a very small piece of pottery - it looks like a miniature teacup with a broken off handle. ".. thrice-damned bandy-legged butter-toes.." she is muttering. It's not exactly loud.. but probably counts as such for an Eeee.
"Ahem," Snowcora says, again trying to announce their presence without too much noise so as to not startle the sewer-mouthed Yodh. "When you have a moment, we would like to speak to you."
"You can speak to me now," the Eeee notes without looking up. "I do not have moments. But.. if you tell me that another crate was dropped, I assure you that I am fully trained in assassination and still have pretty good accuracy."
Ningi subtly shifts over to coil behind Snowcora.
"I hope you do not associate with Sutrana, then," Snowcora says, simply. "I am the Shrine Maiden and I am guiding a visitor from the Empire. She is a guardian of the dead for them, and wished to also learn how to care for departed Eeee that may come into her care. This place has ... moved her heart and wishes to offer to help with the cataloging, if you will allow it."
Tweezers hold the two pieces of ceramic together in silence for a minute or so, and then the tools release it. Another moment passes until the Yodhsunala is certain things aren't about to fall apart. Then she looks up at her visitors. "So you are the Shrine Maiden?" she asks, flipping the loupe up so she can see clearly with both eyes. "I thought you worked naked? And you have a Naga that is also white as a baby's tooth. I assume that is the visitor from the Nagai Empire then." To Ningi she asks, "How much can you carry, and do you ever trip?"
In reply, Ningi.. lifts up Snowcora in two of her arms. "I do not think a Naga can trip," she replies.
Snowcora opens her robe to show is is completely naked, save for the creeper. "I did not feel it would be polite to come here naked," the human claims while she dangles from the naga's arms. The things she puts up with.
"Probably would have scared the acolytes anyway," Vashline says. "With the tattoos, you'd look you had two extra heads on your chest to the unwary. As for you.. Ksh'atga? What's your name?"
"Maybe I do have two extra heads," Snowcora comments rather dryly.
Setting Snowcora back onto her own feet, Ningi introduces herself as, "Ningishzida Belet'Seri, Mistress," and follows with a bow.
Snowcora collects herself and closes her robe. "She didn't answer about Sutrana. Could be good, or bad," she thinks.
"I recognize a few old death-gods in that name," Vashline says. "Fine. I'm.. deputizing you as an archivist. Yes.. deputizing. That'll let you collect crates from the Monument and carry them back. See if you can't get a dozen more Nagas to volunteer while you're at it. I'll deputize them too. No more tripping.."
Somehow Snowcora stands there looking solemn. What she wants to do, though, is laugh.
"Oh.. and you can help with the sorting and shelving too if you like," the Chief Archivist says, then carefully sets the teacup with the rest of the miniature tea set.
After scratching something onto a piece of note paper, Vashline holds it out towards the Naga. "Take this to.. whoever is at the front desk right now. I don't even know what damned day it is anymore."
"It's Spirit Eve," Snowcora answers. "I can feel the tickle in the air."
This gets the Yodhsunala's attention again. "Go wait five chambers back along your path, Ningishzida Belet'Seri," she says to Ningi. "I need a private moment with the Shrine Maiden."
This causes Snowcora's brow to arch again. "Hopefully not related to your assassin training," the human comments.
After Ningi casts a worried glance at Snowcora, she obeys and slithers out of listening range (for a Naga).
"That depends," Vashline says. "You are the one who mentioned my old student. How do you know Sutrana? She isn't the sort to have friends."
Snowcora sheds her robe so that she is mostly nude. The Yodh did expect her to be naked, after all. "I know of her through the Barsunala," the human comments. "She made attempts on his life twice."
"Yes, attempt," Yashline says sourly. "Sutrana has a rather poor track record, what with her official target still walking around and all. You'd do well to avoid associating with her. Certainly don't ask her to kill anyone for you."
"It is more that the Barsunala may want to deal with her more completely this time," Snowcora notes. "He is not as kind as he once was, and a bit less forgiving."
"And I should note if you were also part of that, he may wish to deal with you, too," Snowcora adds.
"Sutrana is... teaching... now," Vashline says. "That's the best she can hope for. And not even assassination technique."
"Where?" Snowcora inquires.
"Why do you wish to know?" Vashline asks.
"Because I will tell the Barsunala, and he will claim what he is owed for what she put him through," Snowcora says simply, and rather coldly.
"I didn't know he was prone to such feelings," Vashline says, and then begins putting the tea set back into a small box. "You'll have to ask Sunala. I don't know where Sutrana is, but Sunala sent her to wherever it is."
"Is that all you wished to talk to me about?" Snowcora inquires. she doesn't mention she doesn't believe this woman doesn't know, but decides to not push it.
"You're new, so it surprised me to hear a name that.. nobody speaks anymore," Vashline says. "I'm also curious as to what you do. There's no defined role for a Shrine Maiden in Babel... although I'm sure the Yodhinala had such a position, but probably only in the most literal sense."
"I act an an emissary between all the temples, and serve all Goddesses," Snowcora claims. "I sometimes met out judgments of the Goddess' too, if they deem someone has vastly violated their purview. Other times I provide mercy and healing of the sick and injured."
"So.. you keep the Kindly Ones from getting their hands dirty.. in endeavors that they would traditionally disavow," Vashline says, "like cooperating or helping people.."
"You could put it that way, yes," Snowcora concedes.
"Well, thank you then," Vashline says, and even cracks a reluctant smile. "Keep it up, and once enough people think they should be worshipping you, the Kindly Ones will get the hint."
"I have no wish to be worshipped," Snowcora says and waves her hand. "I am not doing this for gain to me. It was more a sacrifice."
"Well that's up to the people, isn't it?" the Yodh asks, as she reaches into her crate and plucks out a very delicately carved Eeee man, with his wings broken off. She turns it in her hands, her face returning to one of frustration or sadness. "Only the gods think they deserve to be worshipped just for being who they are," she notes, then stands the man up on her mat, and starts looking for his wings.
"Do you want me to help with that?" Snowcora offers as she approaches the table to take a look at the figurine. "As for the Gods and those related to them, not all think that. The Barsunala, Alptraum, doesn't either. Most things he has done have been from the shadows," she comments.
"That's why things get done," Vashline claims. "And I appreciate the offer, but this is my.. sacrifice," she claims. "I get tingles too. I'm a psychometrist. I feel the emotions put into the creation of things."
Snowcora actually generates some shadow tentacles from her right hand. "I can help hold things together," she offers, just in case. "But, I also understand."
Vashline already seems a bit lost, gazing into the tiny carved eyes of the figurine. Then she blinks, smiles briefly and checks the crate. "Where's the other.." she starts, but the rest is above human hearing as the Yodhsunala starts swearing again.
Snowcora retracts the shadow, then returns to gather her cloak. "Thank you for your time," she tells the Eeee. "And if you ever want to meet the Barsunala. Well, before the normal time, anyway, do please let me know. Or ask Sunala. Both of us can contact him at any time," she offers, then draws her cloak about herself. "And thank you for your help here. Memories matter."