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Vocation – one’s path in life

“Tell me, do I blame this on the beast? You were not so recalcitrant before it took you.”

I look down at the precious friend who rests her head on my lap, “No, reverence. I have had these thoughts since long before she came. The ar’uth’ai do no change those they choose.”

Rustle of cloth, he approaches from behind, “Then why now? Why choose now to rebel?”

I cannot look at him, “Reverence, I do not rebel. We are taught from hatching that we are to find our proper place, find what we can be content with. And this…is not mine. I lack the qualities.”

“‘Reverence,’” he says, his voice bitter. “You are so formal with your own father? Your path was set from birth. Our line of Nobles has not been broken for eons and you are my only heir.” He walks past me, “My son, Tolling-of-Heaven’s-Bells, this stubbornness does not become you.”

‘Tolling-of-Heaven’s-Bells’, he never calls me by my short name. “Is it stubbornness to follow one’s heart? If you must blame Star-of-Guidance, then blame her for giving me the courage to speak.” I look down as he comes to stand in front of me. The tip of one wing lifts my head. I shudder, but do not pull away. The sight of his raveled and flightless wings fills me with the dread of premonition.

“Valued son, will you not see from the other side? You are honored and respected, the child and heir of a Noble. Yet you wish to give it away and lower yourself to the Merchant caste.” His wing lifts, making me look at him, “Tolling-of-Heaven’s-Bells, your whole life has been guiding you to this path. You have never shied from it, and welcomed it when you were young. You have some talent for your art, yes, but you must be honest with yourself.” His eyes hold some sympathy, “You do not have the skill to be a favored Artist. Your creations are well-made, but there is far better to be had. Keep your jewelry-making as a hobby, if it please you. There is no shame in that. But you know there are serious implications if one falls below one’s birth-caste. You will be flawed if you do this.”

I pull away, looking up at him, “Reverence, I will be a disappointment if I follow your path. I do not have the talents, and I will not be content in your role.” I force myself to look at his wings, “And I cannot do that. You may push me onto your path, but I cannot forsake my wings.” I plead with him with my eyes, “Reverence, Father, I beg you. Let the line pass to another. Let Endless have it; she is your niece and she has the skills I lack. Even if it means falling, I will be happy as an Artist. There is no shame in that.” I briefly lose control of my emotions, bitterness leaking into my words, “I lack the skill of a practiced Artist because you denied me the training.” I regret my words when he pulls away, but I cannot let myself bow to his wishes.

He walks away, looking older and more tired than I have ever seen him. “You are certain? Once you fall, you cannot rise again, valued son.”

My hand tightens on Star’s back, “Yes, reverence. I am certain.”

He bows his head, “Then I will consult with the others. One cannot argue with the soul, and duty must yield to vocation.”

He leaves, and I press my forehead to Star’s scaled back, taking comfort from her thrumming song and feeling a glimmer of hope.

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this is an illustration going along with one part of the short story series i wrote about the chaedan'kai. this one is the final virtue: vocation. the others are:
duty - doing what is required
family - those tied by blood; a network of support and shelter
laughter - a vital release; a sign of happiness to be shared
knowledge - the most valuable treasure
peace - inner and outer tranquility; stability and patience
freedom - opportunity to make one’s own choices and mistakes; flight
strength - the ability to endure
art - to create something from one’s soul

the red and gold one is tolling-of-heaven's-bells and the pale blue is his father (name unknown). the black and blue creature is an ar'uth'en, special companion animals. (theyre discussed in another story).

this is old, almost a year, so i hadnt really nailed down their anatomy yet. a little note, look at the father's wings. the highest in the noble-caste have their wings decoratively raveled to show their willingness to sacrifice for the community. this is a considerable loss, as their cities are designed for flight.

i dont know if ill post the other virtues or not.

art, story, characters (c) me

Description
Vocation – one’s path in life

“Tell me, do I blame this on the beast? You were not so recalcitrant before it took you.”

I look down at the precious friend who rests her head on my lap, “No, reverence. I have had these thoughts since long before she came. The ar’uth’ai do no change those they choose.”

Rustle of cloth, he approaches from behind, “Then why now? Why choose now to rebel?”

I cannot look at him, “Reverence, I do not rebel. We are taught from hatching that we are to find our proper place, find what we can be content with. And this…is not mine. I lack the qualities.”

“‘Reverence,’” he says, his voice bitter. “You are so formal with your own father? Your path was set from birth. Our line of Nobles has not been broken for eons and you are my only heir.” He walks past me, “My son, Tolling-of-Heaven’s-Bells, this stubbornness does not become you.”

‘Tolling-of-Heaven’s-Bells’, he never calls me by my short name. “Is it stubbornness to follow one’s heart? If you must blame Star-of-Guidance, then blame her for giving me the courage to speak.” I look down as he comes to stand in front of me. The tip of one wing lifts my head. I shudder, but do not pull away. The sight of his raveled and flightless wings fills me with the dread of premonition.

“Valued son, will you not see from the other side? You are honored and respected, the child and heir of a Noble. Yet you wish to give it away and lower yourself to the Merchant caste.” His wing lifts, making me look at him, “Tolling-of-Heaven’s-Bells, your whole life has been guiding you to this path. You have never shied from it, and welcomed it when you were young. You have some talent for your art, yes, but you must be honest with yourself.” His eyes hold some sympathy, “You do not have the skill to be a favored Artist. Your creations are well-made, but there is far better to be had. Keep your jewelry-making as a hobby, if it please you. There is no shame in that. But you know there are serious implications if one falls below one’s birth-caste. You will be flawed if you do this.”

I pull away, looking up at him, “Reverence, I will be a disappointment if I follow your path. I do not have the talents, and I will not be content in your role.” I force myself to look at his wings, “And I cannot do that. You may push me onto your path, but I cannot forsake my wings.” I plead with him with my eyes, “Reverence, Father, I beg you. Let the line pass to another. Let Endless have it; she is your niece and she has the skills I lack. Even if it means falling, I will be happy as an Artist. There is no shame in that.” I briefly lose control of my emotions, bitterness leaking into my words, “I lack the skill of a practiced Artist because you denied me the training.” I regret my words when he pulls away, but I cannot let myself bow to his wishes.

He walks away, looking older and more tired than I have ever seen him. “You are certain? Once you fall, you cannot rise again, valued son.”

My hand tightens on Star’s back, “Yes, reverence. I am certain.”

He bows his head, “Then I will consult with the others. One cannot argue with the soul, and duty must yield to vocation.”

He leaves, and I press my forehead to Star’s scaled back, taking comfort from her thrumming song and feeling a glimmer of hope.

--------------------------------------------------------

this is an illustration going along with one part of the short story series i wrote about the chaedan'kai. this one is the final virtue: vocation. the others are:
duty - doing what is required
family - those tied by blood; a network of support and shelter
laughter - a vital release; a sign of happiness to be shared
knowledge - the most valuable treasure
peace - inner and outer tranquility; stability and patience
freedom - opportunity to make one’s own choices and mistakes; flight
strength - the ability to endure
art - to create something from one’s soul

the red and gold one is tolling-of-heaven's-bells and the pale blue is his father (name unknown). the black and blue creature is an ar'uth'en, special companion animals. (theyre discussed in another story).

this is old, almost a year, so i hadnt really nailed down their anatomy yet. a little note, look at the father's wings. the highest in the noble-caste have their wings decoratively raveled to show their willingness to sacrifice for the community. this is a considerable loss, as their cities are designed for flight.

i dont know if ill post the other virtues or not.

art, story, characters (c) me