2nd September, 2023
Ny’Mkborg, East Atlalandr
(This rp like others are written with Cowlass)
“Do you need something to drink, Mister President?” Ørn heard someone asking, though it took him a moment for him to process it. Just nodding his head.
“J-Just glass of water darling.” He said, giving a weak pained smile as he reached into his bag, pulling out medecine. Nodding his head towards the nurse as she gave him a glass of water. Taking his pills into his mouth and taking a sip of the glass to swallow it down.
“Just call for me whenever you need anything. Alright?” He once more heard the nurse say, only nodding his head towards her in response. Barely noticing her walking away.
The East Atlalandian president leaned his head against the train’s window, feeling its cold surface against his forehead. He looked longley towards his side, even though it has been over six years, he still misses her. “Happy anniversary, Annette.” He said with a weak chuckle imagining his wife leaning against his shoulder. It has been over ten years since she died, and not a day went by that he didn’t think about it. He knows for certainty that she’d be there to give tips on talking with Brewmasters, he remembered the days before the civil war on how Annette would read about Akuan cultures. Specifically about Mkænian culture. He remembered seeing how angry she was when the Våldist dictatorship decided to burn records and archives about Mkænian culture, all in a paranoid action to get rid of ‘counterrevolutionaries’. Made further worse by Våld having promoted state atheism, forcing Akuanists to stop following their own religion. To this day he does not understand why so many among his old party defended such policies. Nor why the Einarists in parliament want the repeat of the dictatorship.
“Mister President, we have arrived at the destination. Do you want me to carry your bag, sir?” The nurse asked, giving a concerned look towards him. Ørn took a moment to answer, taking a moment to look over the nurse. The nurse was a light gray skinned tiefling with dark eyes, with horns of that of a goat. With a necklace that had the symbol of the Sun next to a half moon. With her looking to be around her 20s.
“It is good that you’re not afraid of showing your faith, kid.” Ørn said as he stood up, keeping a hand on his cane. He had a smile on his face though one that while not in pain showed the tiredness behind his eyes. “If you could be a darling and grab my bag it would be wonderful.”
The nurse just nodded her head as she took hold of a bag putting the strap over her right shoulder to carry it better. “I remember my parents talking about how it was before you took over, on how the Atlalandian Religious Uprisings had to be done.” She said in a nervous tone as she followed the aging president.
“Oh? Was your family in the Darwalac?” Ørn asked curiously as he walked towards the train’s exist.
“W-Well, um…” The nurse started to stutter, not sure if she really should talk with the president about her parent’s involvement in a religious group that used to violently oppose the government.
Ørn chuckled at her nervousness before letting out a series of harsh coughing fits. “I-It is quite alright, kid. There’s a reason why I wanted to have peace with them, Våld didn’t give you much option.” He said in a weak tone as the two exited the train, in which upon immediately leaving it there were dozens of cameras taking pictures of them. Reporters and journalists being held back by security guards.
An old looking kemonomimi holding onto a cane, was there to greet his fellow old man. Giving a half-body bow of respect, having to be held up by a strangely intimidating fellow. Pulling him upwards, and giving a pat on his back. “Greetings, President. I hope you don’t mind my assistant here, they were rather insistent on having a few assistants with me.” He gave a warm smile, “I’m Brewmaster Ny’Zekkial.”
The President gave the kemonomimi a bow though having to be helped in keeping himself up as he did so with the nurse ensuring to have an arm around his own. “It is quite alright I have my own assistent.” He said, giving a warm smile on his own, though a clearly weaker one. “It is a pleasure to meet you brewmaster, I thought it would be wise to give your Republic a visit before the election campaign starts.” Ørn let out a chuckle at the notion of needing an election campaign, though one broken by another series of pain coughing.
“Ah, yes elections. I have heard the federal Government has those sometimes.” Brewmaster gave a small laugh before coughing himself, the assistant padding him on the back. “Mr. Ørn, Brewmaster Ny’Zekkial, lets make our way to the car.” The other kemonomimi spoke with an aura of authority.
“Lead the way.” Ørn gestured with his free hand towards the black SUV waiting for them, one that had some small level of armor on it as all high government offical’s cars had.
They get into the seat, the ‘assistant’ of the brewmaster being the last one to enter into the SUV. Inside of the SUV, there was two more kemonomimi with the same disposition as the assistant. “Like I said, a few assistants.” The Brewmaster gave a chuckle, “I hope you can understand why.”
The President sat next to the Brewmaster while his nurse sat next to the rather intimidating assistants, with the nurse trying not to focus on said assistant scars. It went quite against her perception of Akuanists. Ørn shook his head in amusement. “I do, don’t you worry.”
The SUV pulled into a small rural forest. There was no parking here, only a footpath. It was a shrine, an old one to an old spirit of the woods and mountains. Vengeful spirit that wouldn’t think twice about smiting a foolish introlooper which did not pay its respects. Yet, the shrine seems peaceful and quiet. Birds chirping away, and the little woodland creatures roaming the woods. One could assume industrial revolution or war has never happened here and yet, it only took a keen eye to see bullet holes and burn marks on the woods. In particular, an old rope in the fashion of a noose is still hanging at the entrance. The government would claim that it was used for religious extremists but the people who tend to the shrine know the truth.
The truth being a commander who was ordered to burn the shrine to the ground, was found next day naked and filled with stones jammed into his mouth, tree branches piercing through their body. No Ny’Sænuri clan nor foot soldier has ever claimed to kill the commander, not under pain of torture or under the influence of the drink. It was simple to the Akuanists of the land. The spirit of the woods and mountains will not tolerate such imprudence in its home.
The president took notice of the old noose but decided to not say anything as his nurse helped him out of the car. Taking a small moment to get a good footing, as they walked towards the shrine entrance. Though stopping for a moment to let out another series of coughing fits. “Sorry, just a small cough.” He said bowing his head towards the brewmaster as an apology.
Brewmaster gave a pat on the old president’s back. “That’s alright, I been there and still am.” He remarked, one of his assistants handing a reusable water bottle to the president. “Take a drink, it helps you. If you want, I can ask for a wheelchair to be brought but you find the trail to be quite rough.”
The president weakly grabbed the water bottle taking a sip from it before giving it to his nurse. “I’ll be alright, just give me a small moment.” He said with a weak smile on his face as he slowly followed after his fellow old man.
“There is a bench near us, just after the entrance. Do you believe you can make it?” The brewmaster waves away the assistant taking out a wheelchair in the back of the SUV. Speaking briefly in Nys’tat’en towards the man. Another assistant took a moment to check the entrance to the shrine just in case.
“I think so, let’s rest there when we get there.” He gave a nod towards the Brewmaster as he took another sip from the water bottle.
The old people, and their assistants made their way past the gates. The Brewmaster takes a moment to bow before the entrance, having to be helped back up by a scary assistant he ever-so often traveled with. Then taking a seat at a bench crafted out of fine wood. “There is enough for three if you wish child.” The brewmaster spoke to the nurse, being helped down by his assistant.
The nurse just nodded as she helped the president down into the bench, sitting down next to him. “I used to have a far easier time walking this path.” Ørn said in a joking tone as he let out a tired sigh. “How the times have changed.”
The brewmaster started to have a coughing fit himself, two assistants jogging over to him. “Spirits be kind to me, so have I. Didn’t need ‘assistants’ and nurses back then. No offense to my child.” He accepts a reusable water bottle from the assistant, drinking it down after taking a few pills.
“As much as time hasn’t been kind to us, I do genuinely think it has been kinder towards the people.” Ørn said a weak smile. “Young folk have an actual future to look to now, one they hadn’t had for a long while.” He lets out a weak chuckle. “Well I guess the reforms were over 20 years ago, but still.”
“Young folk don’t have to hide in the woods or the mountains, having to hold your breath everytime a car passes the Drek pass.” He takes a drink of his water, “Don’t have to worry about seeing your family again.” He gives a warm smile, “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“I only wish I could have done it earlier.” Ørn said, letting out a sigh as he shook his head. “But I’m glad I was able to do it, you all deserve the right to practice your religion. No more secret police to hinder your practice.” For a moment almost a small bit of youth came back to the president as he spoke as he straightened his back, though he was quick to slouch over again.
“There is an old story, about a boy and a tree. The boy planted a sapling, watering it and caring for it. As the tree grew old, and its trunks grew stout the boy failed in love with a girl. Yet he cared for the tree regardless. Everyday, the boy thought about planting another sapling, yet never did he have to work for his family and when he became a man. He had to provide for his wife and children. Yet, the thought never stops coming in his mind about planting more trees in the forest. When he was old, children cared for him. He asked the tree he planted all so long ago for forgiveness that he didn’t plant more trees so the tree wouldn’t be lonely. Yet, the tree waivered spoke to him in the tongue of the spirits, then have your children plant them, I can wait.” The old man gave a smile, “I always like thinking about that old story.”
“It at least has a good message.” The president nodded a long, his smile being a bit warmer now. “Thank you, oh before I forget. I had a gift for you.” He gestured to his nurse to give him his bag, so he could look through it to find the gift for the Brewmaster.
“Oh a gift? It’s not even my birthday.” The elder kemonomimi gives a chuckle.
Ørn chuckled alongside the Brewmaster as he took out a small book. One with the title of ‘Early Mkænian Forest Spirits’, written in Nys’tat’en. “Found this when I looked through my wife’s old belongings. Should have given it earlier but well, my wife’s death was a hard thing to deal with.” He said with a sigh. “My wife studied Mkænian culture a lot when she was young, even learned Nys’tat’en. Though from what I’ve heard she had issues with pronunciation.” He let out another weak chuckle as he gave the book to the Brewmaster. “I think my wife would have liked you to have it, a lot of these books were erased by Våld.”
The old man held the book closely to him, his fingers feeling across the edges and the title. His fingers flipping it open, checking a few pages. Quickly closing it, handing it to his assistant. Speaking something in Nys’tat’en when he tried to put it into a bag. Requiring the assistant to place it in a plastic bag that would cover it properly. Trying to hold back a few tears, but a few of the salt droplets crawled down his face. “That… Might be one of the best gifts my people have received in a longtime…”
The president placed a hand on the Brewmaster’s shoulder, patting it. “I’m glad I could give it back to the people who deserve it.” He said with a warm tone. “Shall we continue on into the shrine?”
“Just… Give me a moment, that was… Quite a gift, not even the Grand Shrine of Lilith held it in its vast libraries. We won’t make that mistake again.” He said in a shaken tone, simply looking at the forest, at all the small squirrels roaming the grounds.
“We can wait here for as long as you need to, my legs certainly won’t be complaining.” Ørn said in a joking tone, keeping a hand on the brewmaster’s shoulder as the two sat there in silence.