Without wearing any mask we are conscious of, we have a special face for each friend.

[sapphira_ststep]

[Late morning of Saturday, February 20 (day 265)]
[Market on Main Street]

I have not seen the woman from last week, the one who was happier when she wore and bought my blue one. At least I am fairly sure I have not seen her; I do think I could place her again, mask or not. But that doesn't mean much, a young woman hiding in drapes of cloth not

Comments

[elanna_bailey]

Excolo. If there's one place I really had no intention of winding up again, it's here, wagon-full of milk and eggs and all those other daily requirements I thought Pa would handle forever. But now he's gone, and it's my job, along with all the debts he ever-so-kindly left for me to pay back. God knows his creditors ain't going to find him where he's gone

[isidore_excolo]

"Isidore," they repeat. "Good sort of name. Ain't it Spanish in the way back?" I shake my head. "It's a reference to a goddess from a long time back," I explain. Perhaps another face of Asherah, in a way.

They hold out their hand to me, and I take it in mine. "I'm Nu," they say by way on introduction. "Town seems settled some, aftah all that went on. Saw you in the thick of it. Good horse you got."

They don't sound too pleased, but I still doubt there was much else to do. A community cannot tolerate the breakdown of order, not to that degree.

"Boaz and I have been together through a lot," I tell Nu. The maskmaker, St-Stephens, looks to us. "I don't know that I heard about that," she says. "I hope no-one was hurt too badly. And yes, I'm quite glad to see Excolo settling back to a quieter state."I shake my head. "A few broken bones, some cuts and bruises. No one was killed though," I tell her. I'm sure there were serious injuries, and I regret the necessity, but that is all. "I understand the man is on trial now," I say

[nunaunet]

"It's a reference to a goddess from a long time back," he says, an' that makes me look at him. Think of the language of it, what it could be.

"Gift of Isis," I say, an' for a moment I smell the Nile.

"A few broken bones, some cuts and bruises. No one was killed though. I understand the man is on trial now," he says, an' I just look on back at him.

"So I heah," I say. Ain't giving nothing away to him, ayuh.

[sapphira_ststep]

"A few broken bones, some cuts and bruises. No one was killed though," Isidore says to me, and I touch my knuckles to the table again, murmur may they heal clean.

"I understand the man is on trial now," he adds to Nu, and-- Oh, Nu, so much yourself for a moment when names are spoken and then so little to be seen, a shell like a hard gloss of varnish.

Some shall be pardon'd, and some punishéd... I shake my head a moment, to clear it. There is so much to be found in trials. I would like to have seen it, people trying to deal with some horror by casting it into old lines and roles, but I do not think I will say that now.

He was an old man. Half the time he was confused. How could he be positive about anything?

"It must be terribly hard to deal with," I say, picking up my pendant again, and shaving away more of whatever does not fit with the shape. I can look at them both as I do that, rather than at my hands; I have had long practice, and trust that any nicks if the knife does slip will not be a problem. "Having someone like

[isidore_excolo]

Nu looks closely at me, finally saying "Gift of Isis," in a tone that knows, and I look closely back. It might be she knows the old language, so foreign to us as well, or there might be more to it. But Nu just looks back at me, their eyes like a wall.

A movement out the corner of my eye draws my attention, and I see St-Stephens shake her head quickly, before taking up her knife. "It must be terribly hard to deal with," she says calmly. "Having someone like that in the community and trying to understand... I wish no-one had gotten hurt, though."

She looks at me, and I wonder if there is accusation there. "I have no doubt the law will be executed," I say to her. "Excolo, for the most part, seems to work as a community, and not individuals fighting amongst themselves."

[nunaunet]

Sapphira moves her knife smooth and swift. Pleasing to watch, ayuh; always like seeing folk as is good at theih craft.

"Excolo, for the most part, seems to work as a community, and not individuals fighting amongst themselves."

"Ayuh," I say. "Though community's an interesting word," I say, drily. "Difficult to know who it covahs." I turn to Sapphira. "Was good to meet you," I say to her, an' with some warmth. "You should come by the carnival. We've got all kinds of masks theah." Glance at Isidore. "Go with youah goddess, Isidore," I say, an' I go on back to my stall to finish packing up an' head on home.

[sapphira_ststep]

"I have no doubt the law will be executed," Isidore says, and I don't think he's punning, he doesn't seem the type, but I smile a bit as I nod. "Excolo, for the most part, seems to work as a community, and not individuals fighting amongst themselves."

And Nu agrees, but "Though community's an interesting word. Difficult to know who it covahs," and with that I can quite definitely take Isidore as firmly entrenched in the community--the town, that is, and not the Carnival that's setting down roots across the river. I think the local goddess is meant to be some sort of community guardian, but can't tell if that means she's expected to see the Carnival as new members or intruders... Oh, the walls people build.

"Was good to meet you," he says, and I smile. "You should come by the carnival. We've got all kinds of masks theah.""I believe it," I say, "and I shall. Good to speak with you as well, Nu; I'll see you at Market if not before." And he passes a goodbye to Isidore and heads back to his stall

[isidore_excolo]

"Ayuh. Though community's an interesting word. Difficult to know who it covahs." Sounds like they've noticed, that the Carnival isn't part of this one. Been brought home of late, I expect. Either way, Nu isn't too fond of me. They look at me as they depart. "Go with youah goddess, Isidore," they say, and the words hit me like a blow to the chest.

I hardly hear St-Stephen's question, and I need to shake my head and think back. "No," I tell her. "not long." But I think and then tell her "No, I'm mistaken. Nearly two months now, it must be. And I'm living at the Abbey." I look at her curiously. "You're not with the Carnival. Where do you stay, if not in town?"

[sapphira_ststep]

If I didn't think Nu the sort to mention that he and Isidore knew each other--or to hide it better if they ere trying to keep it quiet--I'd take them for acquaintances of some standing, deep if not old. There is a weight to the words passing back and forth, and Isidore seems quite distracted for a moment. I set them aside to mull over later, foreshadowing that may make sense in time.

"No, not long," Isidore answers me, and then "No, I'm mistaken. Nearly two months now, it must be. And I'm living at the Abbey." Wonder whether it's boredom or distraction that has time slipping by so quickly for him. I would guess not boredom--he does not seem the kind to be slothridden--so I suppose whatever he's doing he keeps busy. "You're not with the Carnival. Where do you stay, if not in town?""I'm renting the Merton farm from the town," I say, gesturing vaguely in its direction. "The family moved on after harvest, I heard; it's quiet, and pleasant to work, and I come into Excolo for market and supplies. Although it is a nuisance to get

[isidore_excolo]

I nod. "You could trade for the wood," I suggest. "There are likely people around town, who'd be willing to do the work for a mask in wood." She seems happy about warm weather coming, and I can't help but agree. It will be nice to feel warm again, though I've never felt hot in these northern lands.

"Why Excolo?" she asks.

"The Abbey, mostly," I tell her. "And I'd heard some stories on the road, and thought I'd look into them." I look around where the market's growing quieter. Not closed yet, but easing there. "Yourself?"

[sapphira_ststep]

"There are likely people around town, who'd be willing to do the work for a mask in wood," and I make a note of that.

"I'd thought of making a mask in wood," I say, running my fingers over the piece I'm carving. "But not so much about offering it... I keep forgetting how often people treat a mask as something to be embarrassed to ask for." Which I understand, with the polite fictions around masks and faces, but it still seems strange to me.

"The Abbey, mostly," and I wonder what face the goddess is expected to wear, and think I might go by the Abbey and look, see if and how she's represented. "And I'd heard some stories on the road, and thought I'd look into them. Yourself?"

"Thought it time to take a pied-a-terre and work a whiles," I say, "and Excolo was the best of the places nearby. Market that draws people in, electricity, kind of place might not bat an eye over a mask-maker..." I smile, tilting my head a little to one side. "I couldn't earn a living here, but for wintering? I could do worse." I brush aside the

[isidore_excolo]

"I'd thought of making a mask in wood," she says as she works, "but not so much about offering it... I keep forgetting how often people treat a mask as something to be embarrassed to ask for." It's not hard to see how she might feel that -

"I think masks are seen as something apart," I tell her. "As they cut away part of one's expression from the world, rendering one strange. I think it would be true even if everyone wore them." For all that we wear our own certain masks, flesh does not conceal like matter.

St-Stephens explains her own travelling, and I nod along with her story. It makes sense, and I am wary of judging someone for hiding their face - still, it would be good to make sure of when she arrived.

"I've found their edges," I tell her. "And some of their middles." I do not tell her about the chayot. "Stories are mercurial, if you don't repeat them aloud."

[sapphira_ststep]

"As they cut away part of one's expression from the world, rendering one strange. I think it would be true even if everyone wore them."

Laugh a little at that--not to mock, but by way of disagreement. "As do heavy clothes," I say, "and yet people aren't so strange to each other in winter. There's more than the look of a face to know another by, n'est-ce pas?" Shrug and wave it aside. "I don't disagree with what you're saying, for how they're seen, only find it strange that there's so much weight to the face of a woman or man."

"I've found their edges. And some of their middles," he says, and I nod. "Stories are mercurial, if you don't repeat them aloud."

"True enough," and I think they change if you do repeat them, but not the same way; more a measured wearing and shaping than anything slippery enough to be suggested by mercurial. "Is that a problem, when you are seeking them?"