>>40612543
>The skies over Wayrest are stormy and changeable, more often gray than blue, but some mornings in Second Seed the sun rises into heavens blue and clear, and a mild, warm breeze blows in from the Iliac Bay. It was on just such a morning, under trees fragrant with blossoms, that I was welcoming several new novices to their vocation in the House of Dibella.

>They were full of questions, as the young always are. "Holy Sibyl," asked a young oyster-catcher from Aldcroft, "is love truly the answer to every question?"

>"It is—if the question addresses the heart," said I. "Rarely if it addresses the mind."

>"Holy Sibyl?" asked the shy engraver from Alcaire. "Is it true we must dance for the worshipers while … unclad?"

>I smiled. "That is as your spirit shall will—and as the weather shall allow!"

>"I have one, Holy Sibyl," said the clever child of a Wayrest banker. "If the Aedra sacrificed themselves, each to add something to the making of the world, what did Our Lady contribute to the world?"

>In reply, I scooped a double handful of fallen blossoms from the sward and rained them over his astonished brow.

>"I am troubled, Holy Sibyl," said the hostler from Northpoint, "for I know not who is my father."

>"That is naught to the Goddess of Beauty," I gently replied, "for she says, 'No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?'"

>"What if a congregant seeks me as ardor-partner," said the knight's scion of Evermore, "but I find her without favor?"

>"Love whomever you may," I sang, "but love coerced is not love at all."

>The skies over Wayrest are stormy and changeable, more often gray than blue, but some mornings in Second Seed the sun rises into heavens blue and clear, and a mild, warm breeze blows in from the Iliac Bay. It was on just such a morning, under trees fragrant with blossoms, that I was welcoming several new novices to their vocation in the House of Dibella.

>They were full of questions, as the young always are. "Holy Sibyl," asked a young oyster-catcher from Aldcroft, "is love truly the answer to every question?"

>"It is—if the question addresses the heart," said I. "Rarely if it addresses the mind."

>"Holy Sibyl?" asked the shy engraver from Alcaire. "Is it true we must dance for the worshipers while … unclad?"

>I smiled. "That is as your spirit shall will—and as the weather shall allow!"
"I have one, Holy Sibyl," said the clever child of a Wayrest banker. "If the Aedra sacrificed themselves, each to add something to the making of the world, what did Our Lady contribute to the world?"

>In reply, I scooped a double handful of fallen blossoms from the sward and rained them over his astonished brow.

>"I am troubled, Holy Sibyl," said the hostler from Northpoint, "for I know not who is my father."

>"That is naught to the Goddess of Beauty," I gently replied, "for she says, 'No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?'"

>"What if a congregant seeks me as ardor-partner," said the knight's scion of Evermore, "but I find her without favor?"

>"Love whomever you may," I sang, "but love coerced is not love at all."

>The skies over Wayrest are stormy and changeable, more often gray than blue, but some mornings in Second Seed the sun rises into heavens blue and clear, and a mild, warm breeze blows in from the Iliac Bay. It was on just such a morning, under trees fragrant with blossoms, that I was welcoming several new novices to their vocation in the House of Dibella. They were full of questions, as the young always are.

>"Holy Sibyl," asked a young oyster-catcher from Aldcroft, "is love truly the answer to every question?"

>"It is—if the question addresses the heart," said I. "Rarely if it addresses the mind."

>"Holy Sibyl?" asked the shy engraver from Alcaire. "Is it true we must dance for the worshipers while … unclad?"

>I smiled. "That is as your spirit shall will—and as the weather shall allow!"

>"I have one, Holy Sibyl," said the clever child of a Wayrest banker. "If the Aedra sacrificed themselves, each to add something to the making of the world, what did Our Lady contribute to the world?"

>In reply, I scooped a double handful of fallen blossoms from the sward and rained them over his astonished brow.

>"I am troubled, Holy Sibyl," said the hostler from Northpoint, "for I know not who is my father."

>"That is naught to the Goddess of Beauty," I gently replied, "for she says, 'No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?'"

>"What if a congregant seeks me as ardor-partner," said the knight's scion of Evermore, "but I find her without favor?"

>"Love whomever you may," I sang, "but love coerced is not love at all.”

>>40543932
>The skies over Wayrest are stormy and changeable, more often gray than blue, but some mornings in Second Seed the sun rises into heavens blue and clear, and a mild, warm breeze blows in from the Iliac Bay. It was on just such a morning, under trees fragrant with blossoms, that I was welcoming several new novices to their vocation in the House of Dibella. They were full of questions, as the young always are.

>"Holy Sibyl," asked a young oyster-catcher from Aldcroft, "is love truly the answer to every question?"

>"It is—if the question addresses the heart," said I. "Rarely if it addresses the mind."

>"Holy Sibyl?" asked the shy engraver from Alcaire. "Is it true we must dance for the worshipers while … unclad?"

>I smiled. "That is as your spirit shall will—and as the weather shall allow!"

>"I have one, Holy Sibyl," said the clever child of a Wayrest banker. "If the Aedra sacrificed themselves, each to add something to the making of the world, what did Our Lady contribute to the world?"

>In reply, I scooped a double handful of fallen blossoms from the sward and rained them over his astonished brow.

>"I am troubled, Holy Sibyl," said the hostler from Northpoint, "for I know not who is my father."

>"That is naught to the Goddess of Beauty," I gently replied, "for she says, 'No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?'"

>"What if a congregant seeks me as ardor-partner," said the knight's scion of Evermore, "but I find her without favor?"

>"Love whomever you may," I sang, "but love coerced is not love at all.

>>40543932
>The skies over Wayrest are stormy and changeable, more often gray than blue, but some mornings in Second Seed the sun rises into heavens blue and clear, and a mild, warm breeze blows in from the Iliac Bay. It was on just such a morning, under trees fragrant with blossoms, that I was welcoming several new novices to their vocation in the House of Dibella. They were full of questions, as the young always are.

>"Holy Sibyl," asked a young oyster-catcher from Aldcroft, "is love truly the answer to every question?"

>"It is—if the question addresses the heart," said I. "Rarely if it addresses the mind."

>"Holy Sibyl?" asked the shy engraver from Alcaire. "Is it true we must dance for the worshipers while … unclad?"
I smiled. "That is as your spirit shall will—and as the weather shall allow!"

>"I have one, Holy Sibyl," said the clever child of a Wayrest banker. "If the Aedra sacrificed themselves, each to add something to the making of the world, what did Our Lady contribute to the world?"

>In reply, I scooped a double handful of fallen blossoms from the sward and rained them over his astonished brow.
"I am troubled, Holy Sibyl," said the hostler from Northpoint, "for I know not who is my father."

>"That is naught to the Goddess of Beauty," I gently replied, "for she says, 'No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?'"

>"What if a congregant seeks me as ardor-partner," said the knight's scion of Evermore, "but I find her without favor?"

>"Love whomever you may," I sang, "but love coerced is not love at all."