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Peacekeeper is lounging in the central gathering hall of the lodge, seated on one of the expansive comfy chairs near the hearth. There's no fire at present, though the logs are stacked for such an eventuality. It can still get chilly at night, after all. She's plucking an elaborate melody out on her guitar, eyes closed, head rocking this way and that to the music she's probably extemporizing. The lodge is pretty sparsely occupied at present. It's a nice day, so people are out enjoying it.
Mei hasn't actually joined the Children of the Tree, though that's almost certainly coming, but she has been to the Lodge more than once now, in the company of her master and others. When she arrives today she's carrying a large paper bag, rolled over at the top and stuffed full of something.
With a look around she spots Peacekeeper and her guitar, smiles, and heads in the direction of the War Maker, where she bows at the waist in greeting. "Good afternoon," she says warmly. "Thank you for agreeing to take the time to meet with me."
The music ceases abruptly when Mei speaks, a small smile splitting the older woman's face. She carefully sets her guitar back into its case and zippers it shut, setting it down beside her chair before turning her full attention on Mei, briefly rising from her seat so that she may gesture to another of the chairs around the fire place. "It's my duty and my honor to do so. Welcome once more to the lodge. What may we do for you this afternoon?" She resumes her prior seat once Mei is comfortably situated.
Mei holds the bag up and says, "I made a large batch of pineapple buns. It's common practice to bring food when visiting someone in my family's culture, and from the reading I did on Maori culture, gifts from visitors to hosts are also common practice?" She holds the bag out for Peacekeeper as she bows again, this time holding the slightly inclined position until Peacekeeper takes the bag, after which she takes a seat. "I'm not the best baker but this recipe I'm pretty good at."
Contrary to the implication of the name, there's no actual pineapple involved in pineapple buns.
This lack of pineapple will no doubt confuse Peacekeeper, but she'll probably be too polite to mention the perceived oversight of pineapple not actually being in the pineapple buns. Still, she receives the gift with a slightly bigger smile and a dip of the head. "You've read correctly. I don't treat this lodge as I might one in my home. It belongs to many and has, therefore, many traditions. But I thank you for taking the time to better know me and my people." She pauses to fish out one of the buns, "Would you care for one? I'm told they're very good." She holds the bag out to Mei with a grin.
"I wonder if any cultures take gifts of food from visitors as an insult," Mei muses at the mention of many cultures being involved in the Lodge. "I imagine someone, somewhere, has had that perspective." She leans forward and takes a bun out of the bag for herself. They're mildly sweet, soft dough buns with a harder, crusty coating on top that's similar to sugar cookies. It tends to come out patterned and colored vaguely like the outside of a pineapple, hence the name. "Back to the question of what you can do for me, I wanted to learn more about what being War Maker means, both from the perspective of the Children of the Tree on the whole, but also your view on it. What I've learned about the position... it catches my interest."
"I will begin with the view of the children," Peacekeeper begins, taking a nibble from her bun and nodding her approval. Not bad! She brushes some crumbs from the corner of her mouth and explains, "The Children began as a coming together of many native traditions here in the Americas. After the Unnamed War and Gaveston's Great Hubris, the indigenous people's in this part of the world were left reeling. Colonization had begun in earnest, millions of the indigenous people were dying to imported disease in parts of the world that had yet to see a white face. Before there were concepts like 'truth and reconciliation', before white people foisted the Hague on the world, there was only council here. The Children began as such a council. A collection of emissaries from across the continent converged here in an effort to stem the tide, in an effort to communicate the urgency of the matter and the necessity and worth of these cultures which were then at risk of annihilation like the magical traditions of the Lenape. The Warmaker was born out of the first council. A role whose job it was to ensure war only happened when it must. Having exhausted all avenues of peaceful resolution, so that the sin of the thing rested squarely on the shoulders of the aggressor. So that the world knew it, and so that all the disparate parties of the nascent lodge could throw their backing behind the cause with every confidence that their lives were not being spent for pride or treasure, but for the necessity of continued existence as we are. Not as the colonizers would have us become. And once we have exhausted our efforts at peace, it is our job to leave the lodge in a position to win the resulting war. And, if necessary, to wage it ourselves. To lead and bleed and, if necessary, die in it."
Mei is the sort of student who teachers tend to like having. She listens with rapt focus but not interruption, clearly taking things in, sorting information around, filing it away in her mind in a way that makes sense to her. She's the kind of student who listens instead of just hearing, and she's also clearly not only paying attention to Peacekeeper's words, but her tone and body language and everything else as well, to build context for the words, at least as far as Peacekeeper herself perceives that context.
"I think I understand, at least partly" she says when Peacekeeper finishes. "People like to refer to 'Native Americans' like they were a collective group, not hundreds of different cultures with different traditions and languages and perspectives. It must have been incredibly difficult to bring them all together to face a common existential threat, in a way that balanced as many of their interests as possible. I'm amazed that such a feat was accomplished before it was too late -- more so than it already was, no doubt, for quite a few peoples. The Cortical Precepts also make a good deal of sense from that perspective, even not accounting for the individual traditions of each group."
"Very good," Peacekeeper agrees with a nod, continuing the dialectic, "compromise and consultation were a feature of many of the cultures that participated, and for those unaccustomed to it, they learned to see the value because it ensured that their outside perspectives were heard and valued, if not always followed. I will not lie to you and say that in all things, always, we are of one mind. I will say that we became one body. And while some disagreed, none argued when it came time to act. Union gave us power and a voice that we lacked separately. Not, in the end, that it spared the continent the pain of colonization and slavery. Not that it prevented revolution, nor civil war. Not that it stopped fascism then or now. But what it did do is retain the spirit and integrity of the people to oppose these things, to surmount and survive them. We are a people first and an ideology second. And neither one matters without the other."
"I know I can't begin to understand the reality of the challenges that any of those peoples faced, or yours," Mei answers with a wan smile. "The land my parents come from has certainly had its own history with European colonialism, though. Not just European occupation, really. Historically, and now. Both my parents are from Hong Kong, and I lived there for a while when I was younger. I have a lot of my own perspectives, and I suspect there's a bit of overlap." She nibbles on her pineapple bun between statements. "Coming back to the specifics of what your role is, also historically and now, it seems like an important part of it is working to ensure that physical conflict isn't needed, but if it is, that as much of that conflict is already won before the fighting starts?"
"Yes." Peacekeeper nods her head slowly in agreement with that question. "At the point we have exhausted diplomatic options we know your stated motives, your moods, your personality. We have visited you. We have met your warriors and your healers. We have met your spouses and children. We have eaten your food and read your holy books. We know what you eat and when you eat and how you pray or don't when you eat. We know how you sleep. We know how you marry, how you bury your dead, how you mark your holidays, how you celebrate your life events, how you interact with gender and sexuality, who your friends are, who your enemies are, what weapons you carry day to do, and therefore what weapons you fear in the hands of your people. We know your laws and customs." Her shoulders shrug very slightly, "The US invaded Iraq with troops who didn't know the difference between Sunni and Shiite. You'd think they'd learn, but they don't."
"I think people who are used to being obeyed and getting what they want from others start to feel like they don't have to learn," Mei responds with a disappointed shake of her head. "You see that in the way that people from European backgrounds look at the languages of Europe compared to the languages of China. They call Spanish and Italian and French and Portuguese different languages, but Mandarin and Cantonese and Gan and Xiang variations of the Chinese language, even though the Romance languages are actually more similar to one another. For the most part, they simply don't care to understand more than they need to understand in order to retain their power. That's not the way I want to look at the world, and I try hard not to, even though I started learning how to fight when I was four. I feel like if I have to fight I've typically failed somewhere important leading up to it, and usually that's a failure of understanding the other party." She pauses before adding, "usually."
"And, usually, you are correct. Sometimes people just need to be put in their place. We do plenty of that, to be sure. But, yes. Generally speaking if we are engaged in violent conflict it is because someone along the way failed to make themselves understood. That is typically me. Which is why I say that when we go to war it is the job of the Peacekeeper to lead, also to fight, also to bleed, also to die. When we make war, we must apologize to our people for failing them in keeping the peace. We must make it clear that the position is one of integrity and give them no reason whatsoever to doubt our intentions and our efforts on their behalf. This position is, in essence, a death sentence. I treat it as such, in any case. If I fail my people I promise to die with them if it comes to it. And I am not perfect." Her shoulders lift and fall. So be it. "If my answers are somewhat vague and lacking in specifics, I apologize. You are not yet my sister, and I cannot treat with you as though you are yet. There will be better answers when you are ready to hear them."
"I understand. I could still be planning to pump as many of the Children of the Tree as possible for information just to run to your potential enemies with it," Mei says, nodding like she gets the position that Peacekeeper is in. She finishes her pineapple bun, at least one of the probably two dozen that were in the large paper bag, and brushes crumbs off on her jeans. "A lot of my perspective, and why I find your position so interesting, comes from my history before I Awakened. I'm one of those people who is extremely sensitive. I could read minds and auras, pick up the history of an object even accidentally when I touched it. I could shift my thoughts to try to match someone else's, to better understand what they might do, and used my skills to try to find people who hurt others. Hurting people myself is painful for me because even when I'm doing it, I put myself in their shoes, sense their pain. When I'm more prepared for the right than they are, their powerlessness." She spreads her hands and smiles at Peacekeeper. "Which hopefully explains some of why I find your job's existence so interesting."
"It does. I would be interested in tutoring you if and when you decide to become our sister. I would hate to have you as an enemy one day. You might make them see what is before their faces before we blind them with it." Peacekeeper's serene smile has a slightly ominous cast to it with those words. Or maybe the words themselves make the smile ominous? "My gifts are the reverse of yours. I am gifted at making others see matters my way. Or through the lens and viewpoint of another, in any case. I can make them empathize with us, which has its uses. At the point where I am putting bullets in bodies and breaking bones, I admit to being largely remorseless. But I suppose that is why I am Mastigos and why you are Obrimos. Iron and gold do not alloy well."
Mei turns her head to look across the Lodge, not at anything specific but briefly, thoughtfully, not at Peacekeeper. She makes no effort to hide that there are thoughts turning in her head before she offers any response. When she does have the words she wants to say she turns her attention back to Peacekeeper. "I'm coming to realize I have decided," she says. "I just haven't acted yet, and that's not typically like me, which gives me some food for thought going forward." She runs her fingers through her hair. "I need to find out how I make that happen, which I realize might not be a question for you."
"You are a Jew by choice," it's not a question, "so you are already somewhat familiar with the idea. We will convene the emissariate and any who wish to be present will come to meet you and talk with you. Question you. At the end, if you satisfy those who have come to question and test you, you will become our sister. It's very rare that a petitioner is refused. It's mostly a custom held over from less certain times. As you can imagine, initially the Children were very protective of their culture and people. Even other indigenous people like myself would be grilled if their tribe was not well known or trusted. So do not take it personally if you are treated like an outsider or asked aggressive or unfair questions. In part that is to test you. There are no right answers, really. No one will be keeping score. If you wish, I will inform Balm and have her convene the emissariate soon."
Mei thinks all of that over briefly before she nods. "I would appreciate that," she says. "I try not to take much personally, so I'll just try to continue that trend. I'm not worried about it." She smiles. "You can learn a lot about people by the way that they grill you, anyway. I'll consider it a two-way interview."
Peacekeeper's smile grows wider at that response, nodding her head in full agreement. "That is exactly so. It is as much to warn you about the values you are about to adopt as anything else. Many have a romantic notion of what it is to make your life's work decolonization. You are less likely to fall into that trap, given your background. But it's a risk that remains, even so." Peacekeeper lifts the bag of buns and notes, "Thank you. Will you be offended if I set these out for the lodge, or am I to retain them as a personal gift?"
"People have a lot of romantic notions about a lot of things," Mei agrees as she stands up. "Anyway, thank you again for your time. I will not be at all offended. I kind of expected them to be given away to other people, since I made an awful lot of them. I'd be a little worried if you ate them all yourself." She smiles. "Thank you, too, for helping me realize I'd already made a decision and just been putting off voicing it."
"Deliberation even amid seeming certainty is not thought a fault here among the Children. Often times it is when we are most certain of our course that a second opinion and further consideration is most beneficial. Please go in peace. I hope to see you again soon, Mei." Peacekeeper rises from her seat in time with Mei and offers a slight bow of her head, moving to escort her guest to the door.
Mei returns the bowed head with a slight bow from her waist, then joins Peacekeeper in the journey to the door. "Deliberation has its time and place, for certain. Have a good afternoon," she says when they get there, and then she leaves.
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