There are many ways and reasons to meditate. In this case, Moriko needed to ask herself some questions. She had made a decision, and it seemed the right one, and still did, yet something felt off. Was she somehow wrong in the change she’d made to her life? Or was it something else?
Following the Lady of Passions was more complicated than many people thought. It wasn’t just doing what you felt passionate about in the moment, it was knowing what your true passions were and following them, which required knowing yourself and being truthful about it, even if only to yourself. And Moriko had long ago figured herself out. But her life had changed, how much had it caused her to change?
So she took the time to prepare herself carefully. Her bathing was slow and deliberate, the soap she’d asked Kazue to make for her was plain and functional, and the only reason the water was hot was to help make sure her muscles were warm and relaxed.
When she was done, she put on a simple white robe, then prepared a stick of slow-burning incense, one she had a long association with for deep meditations. She lit the incense, then opened the new door in her bedroom, which led the way up to the core, the true body of Mordecai and Kazue.
There she took a moment to examine the small orb. It was larger than when she’d last seen it, but she could still comfortably hold it in her hands. Mordecai’s old core had taken up her lap when she’d meditated with it. If this was what held their memories, and half of this one belonged to Kazue, it was easy to see why he’d had to, at least temporarily, lose so much of his memories in order to fit into his new home. Even when that new home had been her head.
Moriko set down her incense, then very carefully and tenderly picked up the core in both hands before settling down on the soft mat that Kazue had insisted on providing. Moriko had been intending to simply sit on the bare floor, but her wife had been insistent. Mordecai had simply stayed out of that conversation.
This gold and purple sphere represented why she was here, all the decisions and connections that had led her to this point. The focus of her considerations this evening.
But there was a little thought intruding on her mind, an idea based on something Mordecai had said previously. They could feel her touching their core, right? Moriko shifted how she was holding the core, freeing her right hand for a moment. Then she ever so lightly skittered her nails across the smooth, almost glassy surface.
The paired mental protests made her laugh, and she sent back her apologies before bringing the core up to lightly kiss its surface. Oh, that felt so much better now. Perhaps she’d been too solemn about this. Yes, she had some soul-searching to do, but she also had a home and two wonderful spouses who would love and support her whatever she decided. There was no need to be gloomy.
The monk settled her cupped hands into her lap and stared down at the soft glow of the gold and purple sphere. She breathed in, and out. The soft flow of her breath, the slow beat of her heart, the steady streams of the chi flowing through and around her. She found her stillness amidst the movement of the world.
Now Moriko teased apart the threads of her passions. Two were easy, old companions well known to her. The first was that she loved to fight, to contest her body, skill, and will against others, to strive to become ever stronger. She was competitive to a fault when it came to fighting. The idea of fighting against Mordecai again now that he was stronger quickened that part of her soul.
The next was that she loved sex. There were similarities between the two, and she loved to explore the possibilities, to get to know new bodies with all their wonderful differences. She didn’t want just that quick and easy heat, she wanted everything a person could give her in all their varieties. This was the passion she had banked, had partially set aside in favor of another passion.
To explore the possibilities of dedicated romance. She examined that decision, that nearly whimsical moment that tipped her choice. The recent discovery of Mordecai’s priorities when it came to forging his options to change shape reinforced that part of her decision. He had the right sort of ego, strong of will without needing to prove anything. He’d never hold her back from being herself. Kazue had been sweet, a little bit in need without being needy, and simply enjoyable at first, but she’d been growing in confidence and strength even then. The pair of them together harmonized with her, making her feel just as alive as her other passions did. And Moriko wanted to see what they became and to be part of it.
In a way, that’s what her decision had been. Even if she had chosen the other way, Moriko would never have been entirely not part of them, they’d have always welcomed her, but her instinct had been that to be entirely part of whatever was to come, she needed to commit. To sacrifice one passion for another was not the preferred path, but was sometimes inevitable. To demand one get everything without cost would be simply greedy.
But that tied into her feelings of guilt this morning. Guilt always meant you needed to look at yourself, but the question was if that guilt was from you having strayed from your path, or if the sense of guilt was imposed? And if imposed, what did that mean regarding that relationship?
Stolen story; please report.
She found herself separating the guilt into three aspects. The guilt for having effectively broadcast her wandering thoughts to her spouses was well deserved. That was rude, hurtful, and the sort of thing that could even become cruel. Whatever else she decided, that absolutely had to never happen again. Even if the hurt or harm was very slight, willfully hurting those you cared about was not right.
However, the guilt for noticing the attractive qualities in all three men she needed to discard. That would be trying to fight against herself, possibly harmful, and would probably take her off the path of passions. She would always notice, and that part was fine.
In between she found herself contemplating the brief time she’d spent ‘speculating’ on those three guests. This one was harder to figure out. She wasn’t harming those she cared about, and it was true to how she had enjoyed much of her life, but in the end, she decided that indulging that sort of thinking would make it harder to be as fully invested as she wanted to be in her relationship. So a soft acknowledgment of something she needed to work on, an improvement to make upon her path, but not the guilt of having done something wrong and harmful to people she cared about.
With that worked out, Moriko felt a lot better. Her path choices fit with what she truly wanted, and she had only strayed briefly from the path she’d chosen to follow. She hadn’t chosen wrong.
There was still something missing though. And she couldn’t quite figure out what. Fortunately for the monk, there were wiser heads than hers that she could ask, now that she’d figured out this much on her own. Even if she still was technically on ‘vacation’.
There was no more analyzing to do or decisions to make, so Moriko let herself slip into silent mediation, worries, and thoughts beyond the sensation of being in the moment fading away, surrounded by the soft flow of the dungeon’s mana, her breath, and chi coming to match a subtle fluctuation in that flow.
All through the evening, and into the early morning.
Until dawn broke.
And the dungeon reset, while she was holding the core and in tune with the flow of its mana.
The building sensation was too fast for her to have many decisions and despite knowing it was actually tough, just flinging the core away was just not a real choice. So she curled protectively around it, holding the crystal sphere tightly to her chest as the energy suddenly pulsed.
If she could have, Moriko would have screamed. But every muscle in her body was locked up as that agonizing sensation swept through her, like every single tiny piece of herself was being pulled off and put back on, one at a time but all inside of a second.
They were there instantly of course, holding her close as they tried to figure out what was wrong. Mordecai soon reached for the most obvious potential problem, the core she was clutching so tightly. “S-s-s-” Moriko gave up on using her mouth. “Stop!” He did, and Moriko forced herself to slowly begin breathing again as her thoughts cleared. “Give me a moment.”
Her muscles didn’t want to unlock, every ounce of her flesh was convinced that more pain was coming. But this was her body, and mastering it was one of the fundamentals of her training. She worked her way down from her head, loosening each muscle group as she took inventory of the state of her body. Despite what she’d felt, she could find nothing wrong, no damage anywhere, just the lingering effects of the memory of that pain. When she could move freely, Moriko held out the core for Mordecai to take. “Here. I’ll describe what happened in a moment, but it was over already by the time you got here. You’d have had to break my fingers to loosen my grip, and it wouldn’t have helped.”
He looked guilty as he carefully took their orb from her hands. “Sorry, you were in such a state that I panicked, I didn’t think about that.” He placed the orb gently back on the pedestal, then sat down at her side and took her hand. Kazue was already curled up against her other side with that hand held tightly between her own.
“Moriko, what happened?” Kazue practically whispered, her green eyes bright and shimmering with unshed tears. Moriko gathered her thoughts and then described the state she’d been in, and what she’d felt immediately before that pain had hit. Mordecai frowned thoughtfully, then glanced upwards.
“It’s dawn. You were holding our core during the reset. Normally, there’s no reason that would be a problem for any contractor or inhabitant. But I think I figured out what happened this time.” He sighed and shook his head. “At least it won’t happen again unless you are meditating with the core when dawn hits.” Moriko felt a bit of relief at that, though mild disappointment that she’d have to be more careful with her time in the future.
Hmm. Yes, despite that awful moment at the end, she’d enjoyed being in tune with them like that, and wanted to do it again. But only without that unhappy finish.
“So, I think it’s our soul link that is part of the problem. Combine that with you not only being in contact with our core, and you being in harmony with our mana, and I don’t think the automated processes could distinguish your state from you having been killed in the dungeon and your soul resting in our core waiting to be respawned. It tried to rebuild your body and resurrect you while you were still alive.” Mordecai looked a bit frustrated. “And that’s automatic. I know there are ways to accelerate aspects of it, any dungeon of sufficient depth and power can do that eventually, but fine-tuning it to that state from a soul being held safe? That would be harder. So much harder that I don’t even know where to start yet. I can add some sort of pre-dawn warning to the chamber though. Um, if you want to meditate here again.”
Moriko looked at her husband closely, then over to Kazue. Both of them looked a touch abashed? “I take it you want me to do it again?”
Kazue flicked an ear. “Yeah, um, the first part of your meditation didn’t feel much different, but when you slipped into that deeper state, well, we could feel that. And it was nice. Like, really nice. Though maybe not when we have company again. It’s kind of a bit distracting.”
Moriko couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, then looked to Mordecai again, who shrugged. “It’s a new one to me, but yes. Pleasantly distracting is a good phrase for it.”
Huh. That was certainly interesting. She’d have to investigate that further, but not right now. “Well, if it’s dawn, then we’ll want to have breakfast with our guests in a couple of hours. And I’m kind of a mess now. So why don’t we catch up while I bathe again? I think I need to take a trip back to the capital, so I want to get started shortly after everyone leaves.” Her body was feeling good now, a warm bath and some food should help any lingering ache.