111452-rocios-story-communion

== Content ==
			
Prior Chapter: https://forums.wildstar-online.com/forums/index.php?/topic/110962-rocios-story-the-hero-of-farside/
 
Rocio meets with the Queen of Arboria and reaches out to his old roots.
 
Chapter 18: Communion
 
**********************
 
Rocio focused on working his way through the tunnel that led to the rootstock of the great tree that served as the Queen’s estate in the Arborian Gardens.  His ears were flat against his head and his tail shook with anxiety.  The Queen’s guards at each side looked over at him with worry in their eyes. They walked with deliberate slowness and seemed prepared to catch him should he fall, but otherwise they didn’t provide him much help.  The ground was uneven and full of decorative woodwork that threatened to catch his crutches and send him tumbling. 
 
He felt the need to take a moment to pause and catch his breath, but he saw the end of the tunnel and managed to make it through before stopping, leaning against his crutches.  Even though it had been a few days, he was surprised how weak he felt back on Nexus.  Just a few weeks on the moon gave him a new appreciation of the weight of his own body.
 
The Queen’s guard suddenly fell to one knee. Standing there in the archway leading to Myala’s chamber was an Aurin he recognized only from descriptions of him.  First Consort Arwick Redleaf.  He stood with one hip cocked, his longsword swinging, eying Rocio with a critical gaze, as though counting his ribs and judging his strength.  Having seen such looks out of Dr. Lazarin, Rocio straightened up a bit, feeling defensive.
 
“I heard about you from Barrentree.  From his missive, I expected you to be an 8 foot tall Granok.” He smirked as he spoke, clearly thinking Barrentree’s report had been exaggerated.  He pointed at Rocio’s face indicating his mask. “I’ll have to ask you to remove that.”
 
Rocio’s tail trembled with nerves.  “I cannot remove it.”
 
“Is it glued to your head?” It wasn’t a joke. Arwick’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
 
Rocio anticipated questions about his mask. He had something to say by way of explanation, but now he didn’t think any of his explanations would work. He didn’t even think the truth would work.  He ducked his head down as far as it would go without bowing.
 
Much to his surprise, his expression of submission satisfied Arwick who beckoned him with two fingers and walked inside.
 
The two members of Queen’s guard stood up and walked to the entrance of the chamber, standing at attention. One jerked his head toward the interior. “Go on.”
 
Mystified, Rocio hobbled his way in, trying not to get his crutches caught the layers of beaded curtain that served as a door. Guards at the other side of the entrance saved him, pulling back the curtain to let him through.
 
The Queen’s throne room was full of flowers, and incense. It was bright with firelight and looked and smelled lovely.  An Aurin sat in a corner playing soothing music on a harp.  Rocio’s anxiety immediately began to melt away as he looked around in wonder. Great buttress roots cascaded down the walls and aerial tendrils hung off those roots like a living chandelier.
 
On a raised platform, dwarfed by an abundance of pillows and soft silk throws, sat the Queen of Arboria. Her gentle doe-like eyes gazed at him as though she were staring into his cradle. Her soft smile was reassuring.  “Hello, Rocio Bloodmoon.”
 
Rocio could not kneel or bow.  He just dipped his head. “My Queen.” He said shyly.
 
She clasped her hands together and smiled. “Corporal Barrentree told us about what happened at the moon.  You were amazing and brave, facing so many of the Dominion and in a place so far away.  You’re to be commended for your service.”
 
“I-it was n-nothing.” He stammered.
 
Queen Myala beamed at him. “And so humble!  Why, you won’t even show your face to anyone!” She giggled behind her hand.  She held out her hand and Arwick took it.  She stood up slowly, a translucent cape trailing behind her as she walked toward him.
 
She was beautiful but she may as well have been a giant predator. Rocio’s heart slammed against his chest like a terrified jabbit trying to escape. She raised one hand to him, placing it on his shoulder. “Your leg is healing well?”
 
“Y-yeah.”
 
Suddenly, his mind alerted him that something was wrong.  Geist appeared unbidden.  He restrained the projection right before it could lash out. Confused, he found himself the pressure some sort of influence in his head and he pushed back instinctively.
 
“Your innocence, weakness and youth… are deceptive.  See how you control your projections.  Ordinary Espers would not be able to wield such great power, yet you do so out of the corner of your eye…”  Queen Myala purred.
 
“Queen Myala… Um…” Rocio started to sweat but whenever he stopped resisting the Queen she pressured his mind harder. 
 
Queen Myala smiled at him. “Who is your matria and tribe?”
 
“Matria Silverroot of the Eastwall Tribe.” Rocio responded, feeling his ears begin to ring. “Can you please…”
 
“Eastwall?” Arwick said, “I didn’t think any of them made it through to Nexus.”
 
“I got separated from them and put on a ship.”  Rocio let out a sigh of relief when Myala stopped poking at him.
 
“That must have been hard on you…”  The Queen dropped her eyes.
 
“Yes, it was. It was hard on everyone.”
 
She looked back at him, her eyes displaying an odd sort of guilt, but before she could say anything, Arwick spoke up. “You are the type we need to fight the Dominion, Rocio.  Tell me, what are you plans after this?”
 
“I’m just trying to get back on my feet.  I go where I’m ordered to go."  He added. "Though, someday I would like to settle down here.”
 
“Here?!” The words out of Arwick came out mid-snarl.
 
Myala touched her Consort’s arm to stop him. “You’re adapting to Nexus?” she asked.
 
Encouraged, Rocio nodded. “After all, this is the new Arboria, like you said.”
 
Her face broke into a smile. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have another Consort.”
 
Rocio flew into a panic, shaking his head. “Oh no! I-I can’t be your Consort!  I um. I uh!” 
 
“Tch.” Redleaf turned his back on them both. Huffing sulkily, he refused to look at Rocio any more. He walked away and sat on a pillow next to the Queen’s Dais.
 
Redleaf’s expression plus Rocio’s horrified stammering made the Queen laugh. Even the guards laughed.   Rocio laughed too, though nervously.  “He’s too young for Consort material.” She gave Redleaf an apologetic glance. “But, he’s not too young to be an honorary member of the guard.”
 
Rocio ducked his head again. “That’s really not necessary.”
 
Those words didn’t meet with the same reception as his refusal to be a Consort.  He winced with the Queen’s smile disappeared. Redleaf glared, staring at him long and hard.  “I- I mean…”
 
Still frowning, the Queen waved her hands. “I need you all to leave please. Only for a few minutes.” Everyone immediately began to file out. “Thank you.  You too, Arwick.”
 
The Consort’s ire was enough to spook Rocio into leaning away when he brushed by him.  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… wh-what I meant was…”
 
Myala shook her head at him and he shut his mouth. After Arwick left and they were alone, the Queen sighed and closed her eyes.  “Please,” She said firmly. “Please remove your mask, Rocio.”
 
That was an order.
 
From the time he was born until he flew away from Arboria, “Pay Honor to the Queen” had been imprinted as absolute law into his heart. But Thresh had drilled an entirely different rule into his head: The law of caution and of secrecy. “You are not to remove your mask for anyone.” was a rule he had strictly obeyed until now.  And it was the one the Queen was asking him to break. The seconds dragged and became minutes.  As time went by her look became sad, her ears flattening, her tail drooping.
 
Rocio took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect but," Rocio looked around the room nervously, as though scanning for bugs.  Surely, the Black Hoods must have this place planted full of devices. "I have been put under orders not to ever remove it.  I will do this for you once but… can you promise me that you won’t tell anyone else?  Not even your Consorts? … Especially not the First Consort?” he added, his eyes flicking to the entrance of the room where he was certain Arwick had not gone far.
 
“I have many secrets, Rocio! This’ll just be another one!” She said brightening up, happy that he seemed to be agreeing.
 
Still, Rocio looked around, making sure that no one else was listening or watching. He exhaled. “Okay.”  Then with one shaking hand he undid the clasp that held his mask shut and then pulled the mask over his head.
 
Rocio looked back at her. His messy hair hid his good eye and framed the augmented implant in his face.  The omniplasm conduits emitted a pulsing light, even in the well lit room. He saw the light reflected in the Queens pale face, in her wide eyes, in her terrified expression. “What IS that?”
 
He was suddenly filled with a deep and crippling shame. He couldn’t be her Consort, even in jest.  He couldn’t be her Guard, honorary or otherwise. When the Queen moved as if to touch his face, he leaned away from her and turned his head, only showing her the unaltered side.
 
“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
 
She halted and let her hands fall to her sides. The young man seemed changed without the mask on. He was no longer shy, cute, or humble.  He was sad and distant. She fidgeted, twining her fingers together and trying to duck around to get another look. “How long have you been like that?”
 
“Almost a year.”
 
“Does it hurt?”
 
He let out a bitter snort. “Not physically.”
 
“I’m sorry.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Because," she gestured to him. "this happened to you“ 
 
Rocio began to put his mask back on.  “It’s not your fault, Your Majesty.”
 
“Yes but I…”
 
“Everything is just," He pulled the cloth portion over his hair and pulled the metal part over his face. "...messed up right now. What happened was my mistake"  He clasped it shut with an audible click. "I don’t blame you.” His face once again hidden behind the mask he turned to face her fully again.
 
She turned her back to him, her shoulders slumped. “Not everyone is so forgiving.” 
 
“Myala?!” Arwick was right outside the room.  “Is everything alright?”
 
She shouted toward the door, trying and failing to hide the upset in her voice. “I’m fine! I’m fine, Arwick!” Queen Myala gazed at Rocio with determined eyes. “I don’t care about whatever is behind your mask. I’m making you Honorary guard and that’s final!” She stomped her foot.  She directed herself back to the door. “You can come back in!”
 
Arwick barged in and planted himself between Rocio and his beloved Queen. Rocio dropped his eyes to the floor in submission.
 
Myala composed herself. “I’m going to have a feast in Rocio’s honor. I want you to make the arrangements, Arwick.  Everyone in Thayd will be invited!”
 
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Rocio asked.
 
Arwick gave him an incredulous look. “Mind your tongue! Can’t you see that the Queen is trying to honor you?”
 
Rocio ducked his head, trying and failing to bow.  “I’m sorry but right now, I think its best that I rest and get well. If you want to throw a party for me, I guess that’s okay.”
 
The Queen looked at Rocio in astonishment. His tail was again stiff with fear, his ears were flat. He seemed to have shrunk again, back to the injured kid from Farside.  His rapid changes in psyche were both fascinating and disturbing. She cleared her throat, realizing she was staring. “As a member of the Guard, you’re free to come and go as you please, but I do hope you’ll attend.”
 
She followed Rocio out of the throne room and directed the guards to show Rocio to his new house. She watched him as he hobbled away, flanked by her two guards. She was not sure what to think but Arwick had already formed his opinion.
 
“I don’t like that kid,” he muttered.
 
“He’s the opposite of you.” Myala replied.
 
Arwick’s annoyance turned to contrition. “What’s that supposed to mean? Have I offended you?”
 
“No. I just find him interesting.”
 
The First Consort took the Queen’s hand. “Well, I suppose then I’ll let him hang around. After all, he did make you laugh.”
 
*********************
 
Rocio’s new home was in an isolated area of the gardens, a small hut fit for one, secluded and quiet, though not as quiet as his Arborian home. It was still Thayd after all.  The space was spare and empty, hardly what one would expect for a guest of honor. However, when the guards left him alone, he felt he could finally relax.
 
Rocio looked around.  He sat down on his bed.  His injured leg was swelling from standing upright too much so he elevated it on his pillow.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  On the small lampstand behind him, there was what looked like a book – woodbound with a carving of a tree on the front - but when Rocio opened it, the pages were blank. He opened the drawer on the lampstand.  Sure enough, there was a charcoal stylus. He was no artist but he scrawled another tree on the first page of parchment. He gave the drawing five branches.
 
On each branch, he smiled and wrote his family creed, saying the words in his head and focusing on their meaning.  Abnegation. Give of yourself and expect nothing in return. Communion.  Become one with the Weave and with the Aurin.  Sincerity. Peace is having nothing to hide. Contentment.  Find joy in the present. Forgiveness.  Let go of the wrong done to you.
 
His stylus stopped. His lips turned downward.   His eye narrowed then suddenly opened wide. He began to shake as the realization of what his mother was asking him to do dawned on him.
 
He remembered his Mother’s kind face, so serene, concerned for her family but little else. He remembered her leading them through the Boglands and then to the rescue shuttles.  He remembered her telling him to be strong, to stop clinging to her, to say goodbye to Arboria.  He loved her for these memories.
 
 But now they felt like a betrayal. He remembered the terror of being lifted up off the Planet Arboria, the Battle of Kerreg’s Ridge which he had just fought, for which they were going to celebrate their victory. He remembered the ones who were lost in that same battle.  His jaw trembled.  Was he supposed to let go of all of that?
 
“No… no… this can’t be! There’s no way!” He ran his hands over his face. “No! No! No! How could she?”
 
He closed the book but he couldn’t erase her face from his mind or his memory of her, bearing the staff of the Dreadwood tree with the authority of his Matria. He closed his eyes tightly. The memory of her face stared at him behind the lids.  Setting his jaw, he slowly opened the book again and wrote down her words again.  “Obey the one who loves you.” 
 
He stared at the page until a tear fell beneath the words and ran off the edge.  He bared his teeth in a whimper.  “I don’t know how… I don’t know if I can do this.”  His entire being rejected the thought of forgiving the Dominion so thoroughly that he couldn’t even utter the words.
 
“Plant them in your heart.  Water them every day.  It will grow.” He wrote.
 
His vision was blurred and the words he was writing were an illegible scrawl.  But he wasn’t writing to read them anyway. He clutched the book to his chest as though to brand them there.
 
He said in Arborian. “Yes, Mother.”  Back at home, survival was not about strength, intelligence or speed.  It was about obedience to the Weave, to the Matria. Only she could fully understand the ways of their twisted Weave, only she could direct the hunters to the safest spots in the bog.  Now, he was in another dangerous place.  Rocio no longer believed that he could somehow survive on his own. His augmentation and the Battle of Farside told him that left on his own devices, he would only injure himself.  As painful as it was, he would have to try to abide by his mother’s words as best as possible.
 
His datachron rang.  It was Lucy.  Her image floated up in a hologram from the device.  “You’re settled in. Good. I’ll expect your full report tonight.”
 
“And I will give it.  Thank you, Lucy. And I’m sorry… for saying that I hate you.”
 
She waved her hand as though batting his words away. “You were in a deeply distressed state. One can hardly resent such ramblings.”
 
Rocio nodded and smiled. “Can I ask you something else?”
 
“Certainly…”
 
“How much do I get paid… as a recruit?”
 
Lucy paused. “I’m not sure about that, I’ll have to ask. It was my understanding, however, that your medical attention was sufficient payment.”
 
“Oh.” Rocio grimaced. “I suppose that’s true but… If I don’t have any money how will I get what I need here?”
 
“Your deeds have brought you a measure of fame. Try to work with the Aurin. You are with your own kind. As far as I know, Aurin have no issues with generosity.”
 
The datachron hung up. “So cold, Lucy.” He put it down. “How am I supposed to practice abnegation if I don’t have anything to give?”  Rocio looked around and then remembered the things he had stolen back when he was a recruit. A lot of it was still at the Black Hoods base but he still had a few earrings that he wore as a symbol of his training.  Maybe he could get something out of them.
 
He wrote in his newfound journal his plan to give away or sell his earrings. His clothes were pretty fancy and well made.  He could go for something simpler. He wrote that down as well.  Then he remembered the celebration and paused.  He didn’t want to insult Queen Myala but he didn’t feel like celebrating any more.  He thought that going to a big feast right now would be the opposite of what his mother would want him to do. He understood what Lucy meant by a measure of fame, but Rocio didn't really believe he deserved it.  The real heroes were back on Farside, fighting or dead.
 
“I know what Mother would want me to do.” He said to himself, opening the shutters of the round window next to his bed into the world outside. The mid afternoon sun was warm and welcoming on his skin. “She would want me to commune right now.”  He closed his eyes and focused his mind, catching a thread of the Weave in the ground which extended to the roots of the grass outside.  His connection was awkward, wavering and shallow, as though he were squinting in a bright light.  He realized he hadn’t communed properly since his Augmentation procedure in Whitevale.
 
The connection ended, broken by his lack of focus. Rocio’s ears drooped. He lay on the bed and closed his eyes trying again and again to rekindle that old connection that he had.  But it was as though he were trying to remember the lyrics of a song he hadn't heard in a long time.  How did it go?
 
He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until the cricket woke him up with a single loud chirp.  His eyelids snapped open and he met the gaze of rose-colored Aurin male. "Ah! Sorry! Did I wake you?"
 
"No. The cricket did." Rocio sat up. "Is everything okay?"
 
"Cricket?" The Aurin glanced out the window.  A cricket was sitting there on the window sill, waving its antennae and rubbing its legs together.  "Oh..." he waved at the insect and it hopped away. He closed the window. "I came to check your dressings."
 
When the wound was unwrapped, Rocio had a first glance at how grievous it was.  The cut had penetrated completely through one side his thigh just above his knee.  Had he been turned at a different angle he would have lost his leg completely.  He winced as the Aurin probed the stitches with his fingers. 
 
"You've been doing too much on it, but it doesn't seem to be infected." He opened a small pouch and applied a sticky sap to the wound with a brush, then to the sap applied several herbs.  The wound immediately became warm to the touch as the vessels opened and blood rushed to the site.  "This will help speed the healing. It's going to make an impressive scar."  He rewrapped the wound in fresh cloth. "You're the hero everyone's been talking about."
 
Rocio nodded, pulling his pant leg back down over the bandage.  
 
"My name is Notra Ferntip.  The Queen has assigned me to your care. If there's anything you need, just ask."  
 
"Thanks, I do need to know when the next group communion is... I've been trying to commune on my own but, it's not working."
 
Notra nodded understandingly.  "Many Aurin are suffering the same sad distance. The group communion was supposed to be today but that all got moved until tomorrow to make way for the feast."
 
Rocio was horrified. "What?"
 
"Well, if there's anything else you need, just let me know." Notra closed up his medicine bag. 
 
"Wait."
 
He looked back at Rocio who was staring down at his hands which were balled into fists in his lap. 
 
"Will you commune with me?" He asked in a soft, shaky voice.  "I'm sorry the group service got canceled. I didn't even want a party."
 
Notra smiled. His hair had grown paler with age. He had no use for parties either. "Certainly!"
 
He returned to where Rocio was sitting on the bed.  He took both of his hands.  "I'll start off to help you. I get the feeling that's all you need. I'll start simply with Water, you take over after that."
 
Notra closed his eyes. Rocio followed suit, taking a deep breath and clearing his mind.
 
"Water, shaper of life, bearer of spirits
Unalterable fate, unstoppable force.
Fall from the sky, flow through the land."
 
Rocio could picture it, the great and perilous river, the true soul of his home.  It was called the Silverriver, due to its white crashing rapids, he heard the roar that carved out the deep canyon. He felt again swept along, down over the falls into the boglands.
 
Notra cracked open one eye. "There you go... now..."
 
Rocio continued.
 
"Land, swallow the river deep in your core
Consume it's power, release it."
 
Notra frowned.  What was this?  This was not the chant he was expecting.
 
"Bear us, your children, across your shoulders
Guard our bodies, our souls as your treasure.
Preserve us, yes, preserve us."
 
In all his days, Notra had never heard an Aurin chant like this.  Preservation was the antithesis of the Weave. Things must die, decay and be destroyed so that life was to begin anew.  "Stop!"
 
Rocio startled. Did he say something wrong?
 
"Why?  Why are you saying these things?"
 
"Why?  That's how my mother taught me on Arboria?"
 
Notra's eyes narrowed. "Your mother...?  Perhaps you don't remember correctly. Well... I suppose that's enough for now."
 
"Th-thanks for your help."
 
Notra looked back at him. "Be careful, Rocio, who you say such things to."
 
Rocio just seemed puzzled, but nodded anyway.	
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