Re: Chapter 2, Phase 4 - Seven-Day Island
The poem was a little unusual in its phrasing, Kiana thought, but that was mostly due to her education and upbringing, her induction into the fine arts that the Realm considered masterpieces--many of which these fine people she had allied herself with had never heard before. As she had written the words of it down, however, she had grown accustomed to it, and after hearing the spectacular arrangement that Jadira had produced, she found that she actually liked it. It had a forbearance to it that highlighted the mood of this occasion quite nicely--no one knew what to expect.
She stood there at the edge of the ship, looking into the setting sun with a small dagger in her hand. It had been easy enough to procure a sharp blade in the armory, even one that had a bit of an elaborate handle--not that Rakatau would care much about what cut her hair, she was sure, but just that she offered something of meaning. And her hair was something of great meaning. Many times her father had commented on how beautiful it was, and had ran his hands through it as they had studied the stars after a hard day's training. It was a thing of rank, to have hair so beautiful--and now that the moment of truth was upon her, would she so carelessly cut such ties willingly? Would she sever one of the few things that connected her with her previous life?
Yes. She would.
The Cobalt Alliance meant a good deal to her now, and why wouldn't it? Captain Lasuri had given her more than she could have ever asked for. He had offered friends (no, family), a home, and most precious still, a way for her to give honor to her father's name by taking up his banner as a general; yes, she was only Head of Defence for the Dryad, but it was an incredibly potent role, and one that had not been given lightly. The Captain had seen the profit of Kiana's training and education at her Father's hand, and had rewarded such devotion. Now as she controlled the lives of many men and women, she again did whatever she could to ensure their continued survival and success, and though most on the ship wouldn't realize how much strength it took to cut those locks of ebony silk, the smallest of tears flitted from her face as the blade cut true.
One moment her long braid was curled around her fist, laying over her shoulder--and the next, it left her shoulders completely, leaving the remaining length of hair neatly at the base of her neck. "I, Kiana White-Fist, Daughter of Kiando, Daughter of Pasiap, and Defender of the Cobalt Alliance give this offering willingly, Mighty Earth Spirit. Please hear our cries."
As she released her hair over the ship, the wind caught the strands and began to quickly unravel the band that held the locks together, dispersing thin black lines into the wind. If one tried, and tried hard, it almost looked like the individual strands formed letters in High Speak--but it was just an illusion, and the idea quickly faded from any who might have entertained it.
"And..." She added, choosing her next words carefully, "If you are so kind as to entertain our audience, Mighty Rakatau, know that never again will my hair grow this length. It is offered to you, and you alone."