Today was the beginning of the rest of her life.
How grandiose of a statement for how little fanfare greeted the start of it; the day's idle humming of birdcall hardly did justice to the tumultuous years leading to her arrival at the gates of the Astenvale Monastery. The abode of misfits and hedge knights. No surprise then that she should find herself surrendered to their custody so that they could help see the young squire through the remainder of her tutelage, something that was initially entrusted to their household knight.
No great expectations of a lofty greeting from either party, nor the endless droning of oath swearing and retelling of old, feeble traditions, but merely the polite deference probably afforded to even the lowliest visitor arriving upon their threshold. She was not an idiot, there was no doubt in her mind that she may have very well played a part in the subdued introductions; the fashion in which she arrived was not exactly an inspiring one.
There she stood at their gates with an expression that spoke volumes of her ambivalence, while her instructor for the past year muttered the customary platitudes in a foreign tongue, though it was one she knew almost as well as her own. By the side of Ayl-Maltene Ranna Anakanos, Sitra was hardly all that inspirational of a presence in comparison.
Not to a knightly order who likely put more value in the former's confidence and platemail as opposed to the latter's undoubtedly expensive attire and... as was said, a face that spoke volumes. At the moment she was much too busy musing her farewells to a life of freedom to wipe the grimace from her lips.
Nonetheless, she could not deny the majesty of her new home - austere and replete with a certain rustic simplicity as it was - there was an undeniable dignity to it. Even the most oppressive places could have the charm that came with being a hallowed institution, and who better fit that description than the Astenvale Monastery, from 'neath the shade of the Eldyr tree? They had songs about it once, and she even knew a few, but she also knew that they were no longer sung anywhere of significance.
Hence, the face speaking volumes.
Sitra was so busy recklessly plowing forward that she hadn't stopped once to contemplate what lay ahead, and so finally took the time to evaluate her surroundings with something bordering on interest; the ennui in her eyes no longer so grave. For a moment she even gave breath to lungs starved of hope, watching the proceedings as she was transferred from one jailor to another with what might be considered enthusiasm. Not that it was all that impressive of a display of emotion, really. As a matter of fact it was a pathetic, quickly fleeting thing.
And yet it was the first time in a long while that she dared to hope.
"This is where we must part, dear girl. At least for a little while. Have you all you need?"
"I think I'll be quite alright, oma. You forget that this is not the first time I've left my family without supervision, after all."
"You're an impertinent thing, do you know that?" Ranna's riposte was vague, and Sitra didn't dare wonder if it was because she referred to the knight as grandmother, or the oblique references to her previous escapades. It could easily be both.
"So they've told me. But all the same, you need not fret over me so much. Truly. You understand more than most what this step means to me and my willingness to take it." The smile on Sitra's face was modest, but sincere. She didn't smile all that often and so couldn't quite manage anything more beyond the demure. She pushed herself away from her horse so that she could reach forward to entwine her hand around Ranna's own, in a final gesture of affection. The knight now comfortably astride her mount in preparation of departure. "You need not worry about the wild child any longer, you've done more than enough for me."
She seemed to pause after the compliment, mentally chewing over the words before her face subtly twisted; disentangling her hand as gracefully as she could from the knight's comforting grasp as if she'd caught herself doing something she didn't like doing. Which she did. She was most definitely not a toucher, something her companion knew well enough judging by the wry smile that graced Ranna's cracked lips. Most others would probably be a little offended, to say the least.
"And so I thank you for everything, especially for tolerating my selfishness in these past years. Without your tutelage I rather doubt I'd be taking this step at all, nor would I have had the confidence to do so. And... that is all I have, I think."
Ranna couldn't help but to laugh, genuine amusement flitting across her face at the awkward display of emotions. Not unkindly, mind you, but they both knew that dealing with her feelings was never one of Sitra's strong points. Something that had caused them both a great deal of trouble over the years, even as the girl made monumental efforts since then to improve on it.
That part of her training was a little less of a success than their other regimens.
"Oh, right. Please do give my parents my warmest regards when you see them next. Tell them that I will write to them when I can, as well as to Uncle Radenne. Tell them..." that I regret a number of things, "that they need not worry about me here, for I intend to bring nothing but pride to them. They may not believe it otherwise, I imagine."
All it took to silence the young squire's rambling was a firm pat on her head from Ranna's elevated position as she leaned over in her saddle, knowing that this might very well be the last and final time she'd be able to do so. When next they met it could be as equals, and the child would be a child no more. It was a bittersweet fact of life, yet one she had long since come to understand; the girl's insistence on being treated as anything but had made it abundantly clear.
"I'll be certain to tell them, not that they don't already know."
"You really don't have to walk me to the gate, oma."
***
That was yesterday, however. Today was the beginning of the rest of her life.
Sitra didn't know what to make of it, at first glance. The Astenvale Monastery was a rather unassuming place, hidden from nearly all eyes of civilization beyond a few paltry villages dotted around the forested countryside. To match it, she quickly found that the dormitories were equally unassuming, bereft of a great deal of creature comforts that she was accustomed to after all her twenty years.
She could at least say that the beds weren't entirely intolerable, though it was one of the few virtues she could discover upon first glance.
And of course, the day's idle humming of birdcall was again to be the young squire's fanfare, causing her to blink and shift in affirmation that it was indeed morning. Then, without missing a beat, she proceeded to throw herself into the newly creased sheets - catching the majority of the impact with a face made swollen by sleep - and permitted herself a few more precious seconds in the place she'd so blissfully dreamed moments before.
There was a surprising dearth of activity after she'd arrived, at least initially.
Aside from the oath swearing and initial walkthrough of where she'd be spending most of her time for the foreseeable future, the bulk of the next few days were spent in relative isolation while they seemingly figured out what to do with their latest squire. And so she did what she did best - haunt the premises like a ghostly apparition. At first she spent her time finding appropriate stables for the thoroughbred gelding that had served as her complacent mount for the past several months, then came the less arduous task of finding where she wasn't allowed, before rooting around the places she was allowed.
Which she did, of course, with commendable enthusiasm. Even going so far as to wander far enough to an old well on the outskirts of the grounds, lured by the noise of squires doing things they shouldn't be doing. Rather than chiding them, she instead placed coins in coinless hands and watched fascinated while an absurd amount of money was thrown down the dark abyss, quickly learning that it was a tradition of sorts.
She was not blind to the fact that some simply pocketed the change, yet said nothing.
Information was a valuable currency, and Sitra considered it a bribe well spent for what she learned from children with lips loosened by her generous tribute. Not all of it was relevant. Indeed, most of it was the mundane gossip that permeated practically every tightknit community from one end of the continent to the other. All the same she tucked it away for future reference; not knowing if who was buggering who would ever be particularly useful to her, but she was prudent enough not to casually toss aside such tidbits. You never really know.
Eventually as the hours turned to days she had finally run out of places to go and pliable young minds to pry information from, now choosing to walk the gardens in the hope of catching a particular someone coming and going from any of the outlying buildings.
That she had family in residence was something she was already made aware of, but had not caught a glimpse of the elusive Bebin Theros since stepping foot in this place. Wondered briefly if he existed at all, even. Although she had asked to that effect and was in turn assured that yes, such a person did exist. And no, they didn't know where he was right now.
On a mission, perhaps?
With no further leads to follow, Sitra Vené Tanyakoettir discovered an inconspicuous place to sit amidst the overgrown flora that seemed to threaten at any moment to climb up and over the squire in order to claim the seat she'd just taken. Not that she terribly minded the encroaching overgrowth, finding the isolation a nice change of pace to the madness of the multi-roomed dormitories and accepting that it came with a few weeds that might contest with her peace and quiet.
There she sat, waiting. She wore an approximation of the same outfit that she came to Astenvale with - an elegant doublet, blouse, and plain breeches this time. Not exactly an inspiring mix-up, but the idea of stockings and long, pleated skirts outside of the rare occasion that she was given a moment of freedom from the increasingly expanding list of chores was soon abandoned.
Somehow she doubted it would improve as the days wandered into weeks.
Before she was carried away entirely with life in this place, she would have liked to hear the wisdom of a cousin she'd met only once. To ask the questions that begged to be asked, at least from her. And who knows? Perhaps she'd find something in common with her own blood, however removed they might've been by time and ties.
Then again, probably not. There were... more than a few differences between the two.
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