Ballads of a Troubadour's Life in Reflection

First Movement: Seve`ana, the History Of Rhana and Kelshinth Yousei

She's got her head in the clouds
No gypsy ever has their feet on the ground, for they are the living essence of a dream. Even at birth, they as their kin were, but distinctly different; without a wail she came into the world, and the first thing she did was grip her mother’s hand and stare silently at it’s palm.

Her brother was just as silent, watching his sister quietly with his large eyes. He did not move, only watched her – like a guardian.

This caused a stir, and their names were forgotten, for suddenly they no longer fit and it was no longer their right. By tradition within the camp, twins were to name each other and their other traditions were put aside for the greater one.

For the first time in many decades, a child’s true name was not whispered in their ear at birth.

She's got the stars in her eyes
Even at birth, she had those large and blazing emerald eyes. They stared out silently at the world in those first few days, taking in everything they could see. Though barely from the womb, her eyes sparkled with mischief and knowledge, waiting patiently for her body to grow.

In contrast, her brother’s emerald eyes were muddied, and seemed to stare out with a brooding darkness. He knew too much, it seemed, and it burdened his soul beyond comprehension.

Many twins are born identical or too different to know they are even so; and some twins are exactly one half of a soul split between two bodies.

She's dancing with a dream in her heart
For two years, she was know simply as schej – girl; there were no other young females in their kumpania then, so everyone knew whom was being spoken about. But they made it clear to her that schej was not her name, but merely something to call her when she was needed.

By now her brother had a name that was hidden, as true names are – given by his twin, though they would not speak it aloud when other were about them. Already bigger than his sister, the boy would take her hand and they would dance about the fires as toddlers do; he’d keep her from falling, and she’d keep him from being too serious.

She knew her own name, even if they didn’t; she didn’t feel inclined to tell them, aside from her twin, since it was, after all, her name. He didn’t argue, already knowing the name but not knowing how to say it.

She's got the wind in her hair
By five years, she was on the back of a pony, riding about the camp at nothing less than a trot. Many times she would gallop the small horse, her long and bright red hair blowing behind her like a banner. Despite braiding it each morning, somehow by noon the girl had either pulled it out or somehow it would work itself loose.

In truth, her twin would untangle her hair from the braid, speaking to her by name when others were nowhere near the pair. His own red hair was kept shorter, and if they would not cut it, he would steal a knife to do so himself. By now he had all three of his names, though he seemed to despise at least one of them; he told his sister he would have one more before they were adults.

She told her parents then that she knew her name, and informed them her twin would find her other two. They smiled and nodded, having watched her name him already. To their people, the enigma of twins was something sacred and not questioned, barring it did not break any of their greater laws.

Moonchild shining bright
They rarely slept long, working during the light hours to learn the things their familia saw fit for them to learn. Taught to speak their native tongue, and that of the Ayr`Dal and the Fier`Dal, they also spoke a third language only they could understand. Most suspected that they did not truly speak at all out loud, and that they spoke through their shared spirit.

At night the twins would walk in the woods or along the river nearby, speaking in their made up language to each other. Even this young, he was still the darker of the two, though they both were children of night – both had been born near midnight under the sparkling full moon.

When they were six, he said he’d tell her the name the camp would use for her soon, but something had to happen first. She only nodded to him, content to only be called by name by him.

And she's dancing, with a dream in her heart
Sometimes they would dance all night, without music others could hear, or they would lay in the grass, whispering quietly in their made up language. She told him of her lover, someone far away from them and he told her of art he didn’t know yet, art that danced upon the flesh.

Their mother had died, for all they noticed – they had known it would happen, and had already cried for her. That night, as they again whispered their dreams to each other, he gave her a new name.


Seve`ana, Seve`ana


She believes in angels
One eve, she spoke of beings of light, spoke of them soon leaving their world as well; she said when they did the sky would fall, and that’s when time would begin. It was something he could not see, and that scared him as he’d always seen what she could. But he trusted her as he trusted himself, and only nodded when she spoke.

She believes in will of the Gods
The day the sky fell, they hid beneath an outcrop of rocks that was near the camp. They didn’t know when it would fall that day, only that it would, so early on they took food and huddled beneath the overhang, waiting. Neither knew why it was happening, only that it was supposed to, and for them it was enough.

She cried when she heard their screams, and his face became like stone. Together they huddled, waiting for their father to come get them because they knew he would when it was over.

From that day, they began to count those that passed. It became how they told the time, and how they kept track of their lives.

To the Kupmania de les Sedrin de le Dest, all was from the day the sky fell.

And she's dancing amongst the magic dust
While their elders searched for more survivors, the twins searched for pieces of the skies. They had a fine velvet pouch that was stitched tight enough to hold the sparkling crushed dust the sky had left. Beneath much of the fallen sky was slick and glossy, the heat and the impact turning it to glass; they nearly cut their fingers gathering up the dust they wanted.

He told her they would need it, to remember what happened, and that later on it would serve its purpose, even if they didn’t know what it was just then; she did as her brother told her, understanding that sometimes they saw things the other would not, and that their trust would be all they had to guide them.

She believes in the midnight trance
For weeks the pair would stare up at the broken moon as they sat along the shores of the coast. One night while the moon was blazing, and the fires within it were bright, he spoke to her the name the world would know her by. Still fascinated by the strange magic that was now the moon, she nodded to him though the name was not really heard.

He would remind her again, she was sure. It was the name he’d taken from the moon, and that’s all she worried about just then.

She believes in love is the law
All gypsies give some sort of acknowledgement to the Lady Erollisi Marr, for they are a people of passion and emotion, a people of deep love. Some have followed Lady Marr with more fervor than others, and their mother had been one of them as had their grand mother – she had been an actual Paladin of Lady Marr; their aunts found it fitting to teach the young girl all about the Lady and bring her up as one of her followers.

The child had known a deeper love that most would never experience, something she shared with her twin that was beyond what her aunts could ever teach her. As they grew older and became teens, they grew closer, and soon she was sharing with him things that her aunts called Blessings of Erollisi – they never questioned whether or not it was right to do so by society, as they always had cared only for themselves.

And she's dancing amongst the magic dust
When they went to sing and dance for the small village within the Steppes, he’d tenderly paint her cheeks with the sparkling dust they’d gathered from beneath the pieces of fallen sky. They’d never found a use for the large bag of dust, but now he teased that it was what would make the men unable to tear their eyes from her as she danced.

He would play the lute, slow and long melodies that spoke of sadness, pain and passion entwined while she would move slowly in time with his song. Swaying, stretching and slow rocking were spun together with long silk skirts and scarves by her body and his music would finish the sentences it made.

If she would start by playing the lute along side him, the music would be lively and energetic; to keep him on that thought, she would play small finger symbols as she danced in a fast and syncopated whirl as though she were a mystical dervish – spinning madly within the air.


Seve`ana, Seve`ana


Star child, baby born of heaven
To her, the skies were but a map of time; sometimes it spoke of the day it fell, with small trails chasing vanishing stars, and sometimes it spoke of magic with brightly sparkling eyes. Her brother saw the night not as a memory but as a chance to escape, to hide away from the eyes of the world alone together – a place where the deaths of their familia were far away from them.

Each day he grew more restless with the direction their dwindling familia wished to take, fearing that someday soon they would no longer be able to see the open heavens as they could here. They would spend their evenings entwined together, laying on the grass and staring up at the stars that they knew would some day be too far for them to see.

Seve`ana, Seve`ana


She's got a heart full of promise
Though she was well into her teens – her exact age long forgotten by everyone – she seemed to somehow remind others of their youth, of what it was like to be a child again. Perhaps it was her bright emerald eyes, full of innocence; perhaps it was the air of naivety that danced about her as she moved, or perhaps she simply was an embodiment of youth.

Despite her child-like essence, there were times when her wisdom was far beyond that of one her age; she held so much promise, so much potential that her familia wondered if even they could hold her for much longer.

In contrast, her twin seemed to be the embodiment of age; he was quiet and contemplative, his eyes seeming to gaze from beyond the grave. Few could be near him for long, as they seemed to only be able to see the end of all things within his essence. Even those who were young would feel old beneath his constant stare, and those who were old could feel death at their heels.

Despite his ancient essence, there were times when he seemed as lost as a child; for him, things were bleak with despair and failure to a point where his familia knew it would only be a matter of time before he was gone.

She's got a hand in her heart
Daily, she would look at the hands of her brother, sensing lines that she could not yet see. She knew he would fall, and it would be soon, and she wanted to know why so she might stop it; each day she found no trace of his future within his hands, which was unsettling to her.

For quite some time she had read lives and hearts by the lines of a being’s hand, to where many times she did not need to question them to know them. She had become nearly dependant on a being’s hand to tell her the things she wished to know, and for her own twins to remain silent was too much for her to understand.

His silence did little to ease her troubled mind.

She's dancing by the light of the moon
They were to move within the walls of Qeynos soon, and she knew things were to change forever, but she couldn’t find a way to stop them. All but five of their familia were dead now, and life within the Steppes had just become far to dangerous to continue the life that they knew. They knew that once they turned to the city for protection, for a time they would be separated from each other at least a little bit while they earned their keep.

The night before they were to leave the Steppes, he took her down to the shores of the ocean. Dancing slowly with her one last time, he spoke of his plans because he did not want her to panic when she realized them; crying into his shoulder, they danced beneath the sparkling full moon until she collapsed and he carried her back to the camp.


She's got a head full of secrets, sworn to the faith of love under will
All day the camp had been busy, despite there being only four of them left who could work. Over night, the last of their aunts had fallen ill, and lay upon what could be her deathbed as they worked swiftly to break the camp for travel.

With sad and quiet eyes, she watched her dying aunt, knowing what had caused her sudden turn for the worse. Slowly, barely able to choke back her tears, she prepared a broth for the woman that would kill her. While she fed the broth to her aunt, all she could do was cry – not for her aunt, but for her twin.

The woman’s breath grew ragged and uneven after the broth was finished, and like a ghost, the girl gathered her father and cousin to aid the woman. While the three of them tended to the woman, her brother gathered together what he could carry and slipped away into the shadows.

Her aunt died then, and before they even began the journey to Qeynos, her brother’s absence was noticed; her cousin became enraged when they found so many important things missing, and demanded he be made Marhime. Though sad, her father agreed to the bayo of the rather informal Kriss.

Kes Ay’inthar Kelshinth Yousei was no more, and in his place was the Marhime Kelshinth – his nav Romane never to be uttered again. They knew she knew his true name, and the forbid her to ever speak of it as well - to the Kupmania de les Sedrin de le Dest and the natsia of the Rom, he was worse than any gaje ever could be.

And she's dancing by the light of the moon
That night she danced on the shores of Coldwind Point, her eyes lifted to the skies to watch the burning moon above her. Part of her was gone now, and nothing could fill that void for a long time, and in her sorrow she believed that if she danced beneath the starry skies, she would wake up and find things different.

She's a gift to the gods and she's dancing
As she danced, she could almost feel him, could almost hear his voice whispering on the wind. She knew that fate would move her as it was won to, no matter what she wanted anymore. Either she could fight it, or she could become like the wind – flowing, uplifting, and moved by the will of the Gods.

And she chose to be what she was – a child of the wind.

‘Ana, Seve`ana
Rhana


[Footnote: Bold and italic text are the lyrics from Severina by the Mission, UK - some lines were changed for flavour.

For those who are unfamiliar with Rom culture (which is what most gypsy societies even in fantasy settings are based off of), a gypsy has three names - one whispered to them at birth that no one else knows, one within the Gypsy Nation and one that the gaje know them by. Names are very important, to say the least.

Marhime are a very real part of gyspy culture - they are those who have broken serious laws or abandoned their familia. The gammut of what is done to and about these unclean traitors varies from camp to camp, but once a single familia declairs someone Marhime, the entire nation treats the person as such.]