((Logged 2/19/2001))

Nisan Cathedral, Main Room
This is the first room to the Cathedral, so broad and wide that one could feel 
quite tiny when dwelling within these walls.  The room is strangely shadowed, 
lit only by faint torchlight and brief sunlight, silent spare the songs of the 
nuns and sisters of the Church.  A single bright light stands in the center of 
the room, the impression of the huge and quite lovely stained glass window which 
stands towards the noon sun.  An altar stands at the back of this room-  led up 
to by a large flight of well kept, fine stone steps.  Sphereical designs of 
features, and designs of the Nisan Cross, stand at either side of the altar.  
Two huge statues stand on either side of you, but from where you stand you can 
not see anything of them in full.  A huge set of double doors serves as the 
<exit> to this Cathedral- and a single <doorway> leads off to the east, to more 
of the Cathdedral.
Contents:
Miriam
Primera

As the voices of worried residents buzz their way down into sleepy talk, before 
the night's rest, Miriam rests a hand against a side of a bench, and takes a 
moment to herself. It was hard to keep up with the flow of visitors; each 
movement of troops glimpsed far in the distance in Jasper stirred up new 
worries, and the floating spectre of the Ezekiel never helped. Miriam shows no 
worry in her face; she does not anyway, but the detachment from stress might be 
of some help. Everything will turn out all right in the end. See? So the young 
woman stops her break, and begins to walk through the church again, stopping 
here and there to smile and murmer the recommendation of sleep to those still 
awake.

Curled up in sitting upon one of the benches, off and aside away from the 
majority of the other people of the church is the slight little form of a girl, 
decked in Ethos robes.  And it is strange to see someone of Ethos sitting in the 
Nisan Cathedral?  In these chaotic days, anything is possible, and everything is 
acceptable among the distress about.  And Primera looks a bit weary- tired but 
unwilling to sleep.  For dreams have been less than kind to her recently, and 
full of more upset than the pastel joy she was promised.  So she sits awake, 
watching others file out and away, unwilling to rest, but frowning softly 
nonetheless.  Things have been less than charmingly wonderful as of late for the 
poor child, after all.

Miriam turns around another row, nodding to herself after seeing a pair of weary 
petitioners retreat to the provided apartments for the night. Her jacket, just 
dark and irregular enough from the traditional Solarian cut to not cause 
immediete distress, is still too close for comfort for those whose minds are 
already on edge. Miriam wears instead simple robes, almost like those of a young 
nun recently starting her training, although no markings of Nisan or the Ethos 
are attached to the deep brown fabric. So when she turns around another set of 
benches and sees another in robes, her eyes go first to check the affiliation; 
not tensing in the slightest after the realization, she checks for identity. 
Silver hair? Was that... a young girl with that badge? Miriam's hair shone 
similarly pale in the church's candlelight, but in a different sheen than that 
of Primera's. Turning her path towards the young girl, curiosity mixed with 
concern in those off-color eyes, Miriam halts near the chosen bench. "Hello 
there?..."

Ethos in Nisan?  It might be a curiosity for another day, but thankfully, in all 
this rush, the little girl is dismissable to the majority.  Why bother fretting 
over wonders when death hovers upon the horizon, guns locked and loaded and 
ready, and prepared to remove everyone and everything here with little to no 
warning at all, after all.  But Primera, distraught as she is, seems free of all 
of that bitter panic, that uneasy edge of fear that draws so many others here to 
jump and worry about their fate.  A long moment draws out before Primera glances 
up at the greeting, drawing out of her thoughts to a voice only after realizing, 
after such a long pause, that perhaps it was directed at her.  And she glances 
up, drawing those curious, youthful dark eyes up to Miriam in a sort of 
distracted question.  Is this one of those times for words?  She wouldn't want 
to be impolite.  So she gives off a tiny sound that might as well be as good as 
silence, lost upon echoes, "Yes?"

Could this be? But... the silver-capped hair; can it lie? Primera's voice is 
lost almost as quickly as it is heard, and Miriam blinks against its testament, 
tilting her head another degree in curiosity without the desperate need to pry. 
"I was wondering if you wanted a cookie," she finally ends up beaming, swinging 
the wicker basket in her hands back and forth in a small arc to rock the weight 
of the food within against the edges. What matters it to her if this girl is the 
one searched for so desperately? As much as anything matters to Miriam; she 
opens her eyes long enough from the bright smile that closed them to eye the 
bench, searching for room to sit. "May I join you?"

Perhaps Primera has had a bit of a... Roundabout personality shift in the last 
few months, enough to draw her across the world and into a set of Etone robes.  
But it is strange- almost amusingly so- how other things have not changed at 
all.  Primera is still quite a child in full, for all she perks at the mention 
of cookies.  For those dark eyes widen and a little smile crosses her rather 
fatigued face, as she nods rather simply, shortly in responce.  Words do not 
matter, when it comes to such things- doesn't a smile say just as much?  And 
then she pauses, a little tiny paranoia to heart.. And she murmers merely, "All 
right."  Barely words, barely sound.  But apparently the young 'etone' can be 
bought over rather sweetly with cookies.

Because... cookies are wonderful! Cookies can save the world! At least, such is 
how Miriam has dispensed all of her baked remedies for stress over the last few 
weeks; the flap of cloth protecting the snacks is drawn back, over the hand 
which supports the basket by holding it from the top, and the other set of 
fingers fumble through the packages in search of cookies. Miriam sits down 
absently as she searches, balancing the basket on her lap. A Primera who speaks? 
That's okay! There's no need to worry. There's chocolate chip! And, ever 
happily, Miriam finds the waxed paper package, tied with string about the sides 
to keep things together, and untangles it all to better offer the young girl 
with a cookie. "Here... do you like this kind?"

Cookies can save the world?  Well, they might not be enough to stop a massive 
cannon from shooting down Nisan, but they're bound to make the moments before it 
rather cheerful.  And perhaps that -does- give them a sort of special little 
place in the world...  If Primera were worried about the Jasper and Ezekiel at 
all.  Strange, how in all of this mess, she can shrug it all off and worry, 
instead, about a dream.  And then, among all of the people in this room, -smile- 
because she's being offered chocolate chip cookies.  And she nods, 
enthusiastically in responce.

After all... how to stop a round from Jasper? In lieu of anything else: cookies. 
Because if the world is crumbling down around you, and there is nothing left to 
do but fear, why not spend the last seconds in a laugh? Is... *that* why Miriam 
is always smiling? Because the world *is* dying? And she sees, and so she beams. 
And hands a cookie to a young girl. "How have you been, Primera?" she adds; how 
many children under the young Black's description could there be? "You look 
tired. Are you okay?"

Well, there's nothing wrong with smiling if its just all in good fun at the 
world.  And does Primera honestly care why Miriam might smile, and find so much 
to be cheerful of when this town is so near to its fall?  Not at all.   She's 
giving her cookies, after all!  So Primera takes a cookie cheerfully, and takes 
a little bite before she pauses, and rather -stares- at Miriam.  "How..."  She 
murmers, weakly as can be after she swallows, surprise in those eyes as she 
inches the slightest bit away.  Pity that she's forgetting to complete her 
sentences again, or she'd actually manage out the entire concept of the wonder 
of:  How do you know my -name-?  Forget if she's well or not.  She's unnerved 
quite easily, it seems.

"I remember you from the Orphanage," Miriam beams back cheerfully, setting her 
hands on either side of her on the bench's edge and leaning upon them; swinging 
her feet but half an inch from the floor, she could be a child herself in all 
the innocence with which she addresses and dispenses her answers. "I used to go 
there all the time and look at the roses in the garden. I really like them... I 
like taking care of them too." And mention not that the Ethos itself was a 
fearful place for Miriam on more than one occasion, what with attacks and 
visitations by frightening people. And that the Bishop and she might be at only 
an strange peace so far. "Did you ever get a chance to see the gardens, 
Primera?" Miriam chatters on, leaning back against the bench and putting the 
basket to one side.

Primera calms a bit rather visably at those words, although she does grant a 
tiny, fleeting frown in responce to the mention of the orphanage.  Horrible 
place, that.  And remarkable how quick her young mind is to villainize it.  Too 
much a symbol of isolation, of -orphans-.. When she was left to be one, despite 
having full a family.  But that is a passing worry, a passing upset, and soon 
Primera visually calms, nodding a little bit.  And there is guilt in those dark 
eyes as she turns her gaze to the ground, for being so utterly paranoid in the 
first place.  And she gnaws on her cookie for a quiet moment before glancing up 
and shaking her head weakly.  It was a rather quick flight from Aquavy, after 
all.  And she didn't even take the moment to say goodbye before she was gone 
away in full.  But flowers, flowers were everywhere.  And that, perhaps, was one 
thing that Primera acutely missed from Aquavy.

"Never?" Sorrow colors the edge of Miriam's voice in that word. How terrible to 
have not seen roses. "I'll have to bring you some sometime. Or you'll have to 
see them. They're everywhere in the Bishop's garden..." She turns away to search 
through the basket, absently, and find a treat for herself to nibble upon; after 
the first bite, she returns to a muse or two. "I have some dried ones in my 
room, but they're so beautiful fresh. They're everywhere... I really like the 
layout of the garden. It was taken such good care of! Even some white roses here 
and there... really rare kinds, and ones that require lots of attention to 
blossom." Is there a point to Miriam's prattling? Is there ever? But she smiles, 
smiles ever onwards and through it, even as her words could be easily attached 
to any more significant notion. "I wish I could go back there soon..."

And the young Etone smiles and nods through the most of it, eating her cookie in 
delicate little bites while she listens.  The Bishop was infamous for that 
pretty garden at the back of Ethos- it was a pity, of course, that Primera 
hadn't the time to see it before she left Aquavy.  But there was Miss Erine, 
after all, and that rather complicated visiting the Ethos at that time... Ah, a 
pity that situations worked against her.  But that is how things sometimes go.  
And she pauses at Miriam's words, to note a soft, "I don't."  For why would she 
wish to return to Aquavy?  It was a silly place, and full of so many memories, 
ill and good...  And while she missed quite a bit of it, she also enjoyed this 
freedom, this ability to wander the world and see it all.  It was better, not 
sitting around and worrying all day.  Why go back?

Not missing a beat in this, much like a river gives token nod to rocks in its 
streambed to note that it had been going that way all along, Miriam happily 
takes another nibble of her cookie. "Would you like me to bring you some roses 
sometime then? I know that no one ever really sees them anymore after the 
Bishop," and she uses the old title for Stone, true, for there is no need not 
to, "hasn't stopped by. But I like taking care of them. Everything deserves 
being taken care of, doesn't it?" She turns the force of that rarely-dimmed 
smile onto Primera, swinging her feet again as she talks. "I'll bring you some 
sometime?"

Primera finishes her cookie- its late enough for the child to be hungry, after 
all.  Then again, who expected something sweet to last very long before a child?  
Primera, for all of her complete turn around of her mentality, still does not 
prefer to use words as her primary source of communication, though, and still 
she smiles lighlty, nods lightly, to the most of it.  Always at the right 
moment.  Yes, it would be nice to have some roses..  She smiles a little at 
that, although she murmers a light, "Maybe.." In contradiction.  Well, would 
Stone mind?  Ah, so many little things to consider.  And only half of them 
manage to occur in Primera's youthful, distractable, and rather tired mind.  And 
a rather strange look crosses Primera's face at the mention of everything 
deserving being cared for.. And she drops her gaze to her feet once more and 
nods, rather sadly.  And yet the expression on her face is.. Mixed, of all 
things, of reminiscance and wonder and worry and upset.

At Primera's expression, ever fleeting and filled with so much, Miriam finally 
tones down her relentless cheer. "Is anything wrong, Primera?" To give her hands 
something to do, she wraps the basket of snacks back up again, fingers busy with 
their precise tasks. "You can tell me if something's bothering you. It's all 
right." Simple and sweet. For Miriam does not speak with the adult's way of 
warning that the answer would be forced out, one way or the other, or with the 
undercurrents to her voice that mean that the words Primera does voice will be 
turned against her later. This is... the simple cheer of a child, for a child. 

And the young child pauses in contemplation of such, her expression quieting a 
bit to wonder.  For it is odd, for someone to be so utterly nonthreatening, to 
be so utterly accepting.  It is odd, for someone to be so kind, so utterly out 
of the blue.  And yet it is appreciated.  But Primera pauses, thinking of this a 
moment.. For there is a lot on her mind, but... Remarkably, expression can not 
convey such.  What is the fretful frown that means 'brother', or the glance that 
stands alone as 'abandonment'?  She does not like the concept of fluid 
sentences, long and full of too much breath to say so very little.  So her 
words.. Are faint, murmered so that it takes effort to hear, quiet, dying bursts 
of sound that hold only meaning, short and soft, "I'm fine.. But..."  A sigh, 
weak, before she continues, "Big brother and..." A bitter, fleeting frown draws 
to her expressions as she tries to fit a word in, and finds another better, 
"..Jesiah...  Left me.  Long ago."  And she seems a bit distraught in hearing  
those words aloud, quieting for a long moment before finishing, barely lucid, 
"Now... I'm free.  But they..."   Broken sentences, broken thoughts.  But she is 
-not- -fond- of words.  Nor of the things she's saying, which burn within her 
throat.

Miriam only smiles, a little sweeter, a little sadder. Dream? "It's nice to be 
able to dream though. But if you tell Citan and Khiea that you don't want to, 
I'm sure that they'll try and... I don't know what they /do/, exactly. But they 
might be able to keep people out." She brushes stray crumbs off her jacket; the 
smooth surface of the cloth making it easy to clean away the few specks. Miriam 
finds no trouble at all in following Primera through her half-worded sentances. 
Why should there be? A person only had to /listen/. Another smile, and Miriam 
searches through the basket for something to wash the snacks down with. "You're 
young, Primera. You can do what makes you happy. It lets you discover who you 
are."

"But..."  Primera looks a bit distracted, thoughts far too many and heavy for 
how late it is.  And while that fatigue all its own- that heaviness of why 
things wont just settle themselves, or things turn out to be perfectly well or 
not, but simply...- only draws her expressions rather distant.  And yet, she 
still listens, still turns those dark eyes up questioningly and curiously to 
Miriam.  And a sort of question rises in her eyes at that thought- they would.. 
Allow her not to come if she wished?  She does nod as Miriam says so- that would 
be the polite thing, wouldn't it?  To explain that they have a perfectly pretty 
dream that is enjoyable... But to ask to keep her dreams away from theirs, if 
just to avoid...  Well, Him.  And yet doubt rises- for all her youth and 
inexperience, it is a hard decision to come to.  For they were nice people, and 
the dream was nice, but the people in it were not always... It drew itself more 
complex than she wished to think of.  But she does still manage a small smile, 
nodding lightly.. Although she does murmer a faint broken words, in hearing that 
last line, "What makes me happy.....  Upsets others."  For how many were content 
to find that you suddenly decided to take up guns, and follow your Uncle Stone?  
Oh, if only things would simply -be-, and be, in simplicity, just easy, without 
such complex problems, or loopholes to deprive you peace of mind.  It frets a 
child.

"Oh. Why does it upset them?" Miriam hms to herself, swinging her legs back and 
forth as if thought must be partnered by motion for processes to work. "You 
know... it's impossible to not upset others," she finally concludes. "There are 
some people who will hate you just because you exist, without knowing you, or 
caring about you--they only hold onto your image. They make that, and they're 
happy with that. Is /everyone/ upset by what makes you happy?" She finds a flask 
of juice at last, in the basket, and takes it out with a cup for Primera. "We 
can like trying to make other people happy, but we also sometimes have to know 
that that can't be done, and not because of our own faults. Would you like some? 
It's strawberry."

Primera listens with that sort of unique attentiveness that children do, when 
worried and wondering of advice, those dark eyes focused neatly upon Miriam as 
she speaks.  And is it not amazing how only a few simple words can state so 
complex a thought so simply?  That is the sort of logic which seems to  bring a 
calm to Primera's face- as she nods mildly in responce, if just to agree, or to 
say that she's listening.  Either way, its true.  It does unnerve one softly, 
though, to think that happiness is so hard to bring to others- that some will 
ever be displeased, and that every reaction shall not be always accepted..  But 
she does have the opportunity to calm such a thought with the mild note of, "Not 
everyone..."  Certainly, some people are fine with her decisions as of late.  
And happy enough with such to make her time in Nisan much more amusing than an 
average day at the orphanage would.  And there the child pauses, and gives a 
milder grin- if nothing else, such words have brought -some- peculiar calm to 
her expressions, as she nods cheerfully in responce.  Strawberry is nice.

Then the smile broadens! Miriam's eyes close happily as she nods her joy of the 
thought that there are people whom Primera might get along with still. "Then 
stay with them, if they don't mind you and you don't mind them. If they take 
care of you and you're happy and not being hurt... that's one of the most 
important things in the world these days. Here you go." Tipping the flask in one 
hand carefully, she allows the ruby fluid to rise to an inch shy of the lip of 
the cup, and offers it to the girl. "Because happiness is hard to hold onto. So 
try as best you can."

That is far more a cheerful thought, and something to find a comfort in.. And 
Primera can not help but grin brightly in response- what -is- it about Miriam's 
smile which is so addictive?  Such that Primera finds herself calmer than she is 
often around strangers, and smiling for an honest cheer.  Admittedly, it is 
confusing, to hear so many odd things from some perfect stranger.. But there is 
some odd assurance in it all, even if Primera does not understand all she says, 
entirely.  Perhaps it is just that smile.  "I will."  For she can understand 
that- the need to keep a happiness she has found.  And, for once, finds words 
more polite than silence and a smile.  And she takes the cup with a light, but 
honest, "Thank you.."  Before she takes a little sip- carefully held with both 
hands out of a mild terror of spilling.

Miriam nods happily as Primera smiles back. Even if she didn't, there's that 
aura about Miriam that just shrugs and acknowledges either way as just fine. 
"It's so /nice/ to spend time with you, Primera. We should do it another time. 
And I'll remember to bring you roses too, if you don't think that Stone will 
mind." The young woman finds another cup for herself, and pours, wetting her 
throat afterwards with the cool beverage. "I have to finish cleaning up around 
here soon, I'm afraid. But thank you! It was a lot of fun."

Primera grants a bright little grin before she turns to drink the rest from her 
cup, offering it back to Miriam lightly.  And she does look happier now, if not 
a bit more tired for sitting out more hours of the night, and yet a shade lost 
to some of what's happened.. But it matters not.  For happiness is happiness, 
and something to be grateful for, when everything, everyone else is confusing, 
and lending to nothing stress.  This is nice.. And her smile only brightens- 
some shade of a beam- at the mention of being nice company, and nods 
enthusiastically in response to the lot else.  Roses are nice, and Stone 
couldn't possibly mind someone so nice dropping by with such harmless things...  
And how could Primera mind the company?  Especially when so many are too swift 
to be judgemental of what has come.  And what words meet this little mass of 
reaction?  But that lasting smile and a short note of the very cheerful sound 
of, "Thank you.."  For the lot of it, company, thoughts, and something to smile 
over.  Merely, and simply, thank you.

Miriam takes a cloth from the side of the basket, between the other cover of 
fabric to protect the contents from the wicker and the weavings themselves, 
wiping the glass clean after taking it back with a laugh. "I've kept you so 
long! You should rest a little bit. I'm so sorry for being selfish!" Miriam 
ducks her head, still beaming, and begins to get to her feet; dreams might come 
or not, but a child still needed their rest. After standing, she bounces on her 
heels, energy restored from the brief snack. She gives a wild wave of her hand 
to Primera. "Take care of yourself, Primera! And stay happy."