Brinn's Sanctuary
Although some may find it bonkers, whenever Brinn found herself home for leave, she would spend the most time with Anthea as humanly possible. From when the bustling woman prepped her store, to when the last shelf was dusted at the end of the night, Anthea never found herself without the company of Brinn.
Neither seemed to mind, they both wanted to make the most of their limited time together, as Brinn would soon be heading out again, in search of new goods to bring home and to satisfy her need to wander.
However, there was the random day in which Anthea woke to the smell of coffee brewing in the apartment they shared above the shop. On a day like today, the owner would rise and pad her way to the kitchen before the sun had time to break the horizon. She'd walk in to find a beautifully written note on the dinette table next to a still warm china pot.
I went out, don't worry, I'll be back.
Anthea tugged on the collar of her silver satin dressing gown, not too worried, but just enough. She has always had an idea on why her friend felt the urge to escape the city, but respects her wishes not to pry or push her own worry onto the Wanderluster.
For Brinn, the walk in the cool crisp air was well worth getting up early for. Even if she did not get much sleep the night before, the air out on the outskirts of the city always seemed to soothe the nightmare's destructful wake away. She paused in her gait to pull a moccasin off her foot and dump out a pestering rock.
Taking in a deep breath, the traveler tried to expel all the tightness in her chest away. The ache did not go away, but she swore the scent of sage from the prairie made her feel less numb.
She continued along the well-worn path, east of the city's' borders, until she could finally no longer hear the clanging, banging, screeching, and commotion of Brigton behind her. The wretched sounds were replaced by the wonderful sound of the wild, which was a chorus of an occasional bird's song, a cricket's chirp and the calming rustle of the soft breeze through the prairie.
You can take the traveler out of the travels, but you cannot leave them in civilization too long. The hustle and bustle of the city, with its merchants and trading got to Brinn sometimes. She started to feel claustrophobic in the rat race everyone played, and those feelings typically manifested a nightmare or two that the young woman would not like to relive.
The ringing of bells caught her attention, and she smiled softly, her dimples just beginning to crease, and she made her way up to the Monastery. The building had been around since Theodosia had been formed but what once had housed philosophers of the ancient Theodosian religion, now housed monks and priests and was where Brinn always stopped on her way out of town.
St. Michael's Monastery sat at the cross-roads where a traveler or trader could split and go to either Sovma or Selim. The two extremes of weather conditions, and this is why many travelers choose to stop and take in what the gracious monks had to offer, before continuing on their journeys.
Brinn enjoyed stopping because even though the worn building was a stopping ground for travelers, there was a sense of lull or complacency, that she had not experienced anywhere else.
She slowed her approach to the worn wooden doors and pulled one of the black iron rings back to knock. The sound echoed through the courtyard out front, and it took a minute before she heard the signs of someone coming to answer.
Dirt was scraped under as the doors parted, revealing one of the burlapped clad monks, in all his bald headed glory.
"Welcome child, the Lord seeks you today?"
The traveler released a pent up breath.
"As I seek him each and every day," she said quietly, the words rippling through the space between her and the monk.
Slowly the balding man nodded his head, and gave Brinn a slight smile. He opened the door and welcomed her in.
"We all journey that path together, even the strays feel the call."
Brinn nodded her head in response to the Brother's statement.
"Sometimes, especially in the city, I feel like it is a forgotten journey to take, and instead people bypass it and they just...erll..just they..."
"Lose themselves," the older man offered as they made their way through the entrance of the monastery. They followed a gravel path that wound its way up and around a couple structures.
"Yes!" Brinn finished, rubbing her face in frustration, "How anyone can focus so much on such little matters, well ok, making sure a deal goes right is probably not little, or ensuring that your store is well stocked and ran is not a trifling matter, and I guess maintaining a customer base in a city as diverse and dynamic as Brigton is not easy either...and..."
"Brinn."
The young woman paused in their walk.
"Sorry Brother, it's just, there is a lot going on in this head of mine today."
He nodded his head in agreement.
"We are holding prayers in the chapel at nine," he commented as he gestured to the building appearing on their left, "but may I suggest that the garden would be a good place to sort out your thoughts? Particularly since Brother Hamish will be leading the service this fine morning."
Brinn cringed at the mention of that particular Brother. You speak your mind one time during confession, and the man cannot let it go.
Truthfully, the garden of the monastery was exactly what Brinn needed, and she took the advice given to her. She went right at the fork in the path, while the Brother went left. The breeze brought the scent of spring, of life, even though the season was turning to fall.
Upon entrance the garden seemed to be a regular shape, with plants covering everything. Closer inspection revealed that it was overall a circular shape, and the path through it was hidden by the overgrowth, only visible once a visitor fully entered the garden and committed to walking through it.
Brinn always liked that. Either she decided to take the time and go through the garden, directed in the path that the plants, rather the Almighty, had made, or she would wander. Wander lost and confused, until she gave up control, and let her feet travel where she was lead.
Taking to the path, she observed that though the colors of many of the plants had faded, there was still so much vibrant life surrounding her. Passing through an arch crafted out of sun tanned brick, she ducked through the various vines drifting through the opening. A speckled finch did not appreciate her journey, and shot out of it's hiding hole inside a small pine bush a few feet beyond where she was, and Brinn laughed at the escape. Definitely could relate to that, especially today.
Bells chimed as their various branches in the garden swayed, and the sound filled the silence.
The greenery began to thin as Brinn made her way into the back of the circular garden, and finally the plants parted ways to show a beautiful sight.
A gnarly tree with exposed roots sat unhindered by the people who visited, and it was the main reason Brinn loved the garden. Candles were placed in the nooks and crannies created by the different paths of roots and branches, and some parts of the tree were completely covered in a thin layer of wax. Not bothered one bit, the tree continued to grow, and visitors continued to visit what became known as the prayer tree. The monks even showed their appreciation to the giant by making sure it was well taken care of, and that there were always fresh candles for people to light.
Brinn loved the tree, and lighting a candle when she had sorted through what she need to was a way to release the bad thoughts, and be warmed by the good. Although the tree was bare, the leaves fallen and beginning to prepare for winter, visitors would still make the trek and candles would still be lit, even when the snow had fallen. It was truly a beautiful sight, but even the faint memories of those wonderful times were not helping Brinn. Her head was full of negatives, and her chest was starting to ache because it was getting to her.
Brinn wrestled herself into one of the gnarly roots, and dug into a comfortable position. She had no idea how long she'd be nestled among the wax covered tree, but as the candles flickered in the warming morning breeze, she knew it could take awhile. The latest venture she had taken had shaken her to the core of who she was.
Normally a venture was the perfect thing. The worst part of it would be having to leave the place that had managed to capture her attention. Thinking back, she always loved the suspense of traveling out to a new country, city, or meeting new far away people. Getting acquainted and immersing herself in their lives', living the way of whatever land she wandered to, formed some of her greatest memories. From sand surfing with the nomads of the Selim dunes, to riding bareback with the plain people in between Brigton and the Northern Forest, she had always found a way to worm herself into cultures. She had so many amazing memories, with so many breathtaking mementos as reminders.
Some she gave to Anthea to sell to the people of Brington, to remind them that the city they called home was not all that was out there. Others were more personal and physically reminded her of the places she'd been. The scar running along her wrist from when a enthusiastic carver had tried teaching her the craft, small gouge marks in her shoulder from where a Sovman falcon had made it's perch while she had tried mastering falconing a few years ago, and of course the ever present callouses on her barefeet were prideful reminders of the miles she had walked.
Yet other reminders were ones only she could see in her mind's eye.
Like the way she always approached new people with a slight amount of caution and an air of calm, the way she made sure to always pack extra water and keep food on her person at all times, or how she would always hear the crack of a whip before it landed a hit on a plantation worker in the East.
Brinn twitched at that particular one.
The boy couldn't have been more than ten and though she did not know what he had done, in her mind, it could never have warranted such a punishment.
His cries would be forever etched in her mind.
Venturing East had been a trip she had looked forward to, she hadn't been to Sovma or the border in a long time but after the disaster that the travels had turned into, Brinn did not know if she'd go back. Could go back.
Young and old, Theodosian workers tirelessly strove to meet their masters wishes. From planting and harvesting, to mining and digging up precious metals hidden deep within the mountains, they worked. And worked, until many could not anymore.
Just passing along, through one of the trading trails that cut by near a plantation field, she had seen two workers pass out, only to be beaten heavily by an overseer.
Bile rose in her throat again at the reminder, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
How one human being could treat another like, like that puzzled her beyond what she could fathom. Just where did people lose the sight of the Almighty's teachings, and how did they get so lost, that their own profit would cloud them enough to whip a child's back bloody.
The wind picked up, and Brinn opened her eyes to watch the candles' flames dance, about a hundred vivid blazes swaying to the rhythm established by the breeze. The flames could not control which direction or path they were sent, and she could not help but compare it to her own life. She could not control what other people did to others, her effects would be too small to make a difference, what would be the point of trying.
Feeling small, the tightness in her chest intensified to her breaking point.
All she could think of was the small boy that she didn't do anything to help. How she just left those two workers to deal with the aftermath of their beatings. She didn't do anything. Just continued on her journey, with a heavy heart.
Though, in her defense, what could she have done? One woman against years of hate and people who fully believed in their own superiority. That the demise of one group of people was acceptable because it brought another's fortune.
What could she do, as one person.
The thought rolled around in her brain, and she was reminded of a conversation before she had seen the world. Before she knew what wonders and horrors existed out there.
"Don't know why you want to be a wanderluster cuz, not like you're going to be very successful at it. Not too many wanderers walking around with money in their pockets."
"Sometimes Reighline, it's not about money."
"That's stupid. What's the point of doing anything without money being made?"
"Well, maybe I just want to explore other cultures, experience what they do, and maybe expose Brigton to what the world has to offer outside city limits..."
"Brinn, you're one girl. It's not like you're gonna change the world."
Starring up at the bare branches swaying, she came to a conclusion. Why the hell couldn't she change the world? Even if it started small, like showing kindness where others would turn to anger. Something small could start a ripple.
Her career choice could be the beginning of a new era where people of Brigton started to look outside their manufactured borders, and treated people like people, instead of goods to be shipped, bought, and traded.
Everything seemed to settle within the young woman. The tightness loosened to the point she could no longer feel its pull, and she welcomed the deep breath she took. Expelling what was left of her memories, she took in the calmness that was around her.
Clearing her head, and finding her peace, she rolled to a seated position and pulled herself up. She noticed that half the day was gone as she brushed off some bark from her leggings, and made her way to where the candle lighting equipment laid on a stone slab. Kneeling, she struck the long wooden wicker along the rough surface and a flame burst forth. Brinn located the nearest unlit candle and left a burning token of her afternoon of finding inner peace.
She sent a prayer to the heavens, thanking for the wonderful way in which the Almighty works, and for help in how she can start to change the thoughts of Brigton's people. Another breeze commenced through the garden, and Brinn smiled. It seemed even the Lord was in agreement.
Brinn gathered herself and walked back towards the front of the garden, strolling past a few of the fountains, admiring the late fall blossoms, and foregoing a jaunt through the labyrinth that was settled in the middle of the circular maze of plants. She had to get back to civilization, she couldn't put her plan in motion from way out here.
Also Anthea might have also saved her some lunch.
It's the small things that really provide the sanctuary that we all crave.
