Flashback Parting Gift (Ayatah)

[Razkar]

”Ismae. My little sister, who doesn't realize that she’ll soon be far too big to throw herself at me.”

The ambush was brilliantly-executed. Razkar had barely even known the spry little girl was there until a brown blur had zipped past him and thudded into Ayatah's arms. It happened so fast that he nearly went for his weapons.

Ismae turned to him with the open, curious eyes of a child and studied him. She looked him up and down and sniffed.

”Who’s that? Is he your friend? Where did you go? Why do you have a tiger fur on your back?”

The barrage ceased for a brief, blessed moment and Razkar found himself swallowing. Children... he was not expecting this. So, he made a classic mistake and tried to treat her like an adult.

"I am Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, and-"

"What's that in your face?"

"Wh... Pardon?"

"Those things?" She tapped her own nose and then started picking it until Aya batted her hand away. "Are you kissing my sister?"

"Ismae!"

Oh, thank the Goddess...

Well, he thought it was salvation, but it turned out to be something worse. The scolding voice bought the girl's head snapping around and she trotted off, pausing only to give a bright grin that only a child could, full of sincerity and well-meaning, followed y a manic little wave.

Then he saw what had called her away. A woman strode towards them, alive with power and purpose, a quiet authority that was in every line of her older but still shrewd face. Looking at the cheekbones and the eyes, the slight curve of the lips... yes... Razkar knew who it was.

Ayatah's mother led the chattering pack of Scattered Bones to greet their daughter, returned from the Jungle with a very unusual souvenir.

[Ayatah]

A horrified look flashed across Ayatah’s face as her little sister interrogated (what other word suited the demanding questions?) Razkar. But then it melted into amusement; she had never been able to stay annoyed at her young siblings for very long.

Plus, children were never known for their subtly, she should have expected as much.

“Ismae!”

The girl ran away, and Ayatah flashed a grin to her lover, ”that’s the worse of it over, I promise.” She whispered, fingers brushing his hand. The adults would at least have the dignity to be more refined in their questions… She hoped.

Ayatah had barely turned back to greet her family before her mother embraced her into a tight hug, squeezing the air right out of her her lungs. ”My daughter… You’re home, and safe.” The older woman’s voice was quiet, and it struck Ayatah just how relieved Paira of the Scattered Bones sounded. Had she really been gone so long as to worry her mother that much?

They stepped away, and inspected each other carefully. Paira’s dark eyes - that matched Ayatah’s own almost exactly - fell to her daughter’s taut stomach, the fading claw marks that puckered and slashed across her skin. She threw Ayatah a questioning look, but the half-Eypharian dipped her head, silently telling her mother ‘I’ll explain later…’

Now was the time for introductions.

”Mother…” She stepped backwards, returning to Razkar’s side. ”This is Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, and-“

”He has your dagger.” The voice was not a welcoming one, and the half-breed did not have to look to know who had spoken. He was male, a close age to Ayatah, and a blatant pissed-off look slapped on his dark face. He, apparently, did not approve of his cousin’s recent adventures,

Ayatah did not ignore the interruption, and instead challenged the young male with a steely gaze of her own. ”Yes, Bennik. I have given him my birth weapon, but that is only a small part of… everything else.” Her voice was faint, gentle. Defiance and stubbornness would not win any favours within the Scattered Bones in this instance, it seemed.

She turned her attention back to Paira, and the two women shared a look, almost conversing telepathically in a way that only mother and daughter could. Ayatah had no doubts that her mother understood the new relationship that her eldest daughter had found herself in. Women - mothers especially - had a sixth sense for such things. ”He only has two arms….” The younger said hopefully, a shamefaced grin on her face.

Eventually, Paira nodded, a similar smile taking form on her own broad face. ”This is true. Greetings, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls. You are welcome here. I am Paira, Ayatah’s mother.” Her eyes bore into Razkar’s, not in a hostile manner, but with keen interest. If this young man had stolen the heart of her first born, she was going to learn as much about him as she could. ”I imagine that the two of you have a story to share, to say the least.” . And with those words, she smiled, dissolving any remnants of attention or awkwardness.

For now, at least.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

Razkar honestly didn't know what to expect when the gaggle of Myrians approached them. Hostility? Well, yes, but that somewhat inevitable with his people. Even those of their own race were seen with a wary caution, an irrepressible hangover from the feuding history. Acceptance? Eventually, but... well, eventually.

So he waited silently until introduced, letting Aya reunite with her mother and feeling a slIght twinge of jealously mingled with grief. He would never be able to hug his mother again in reunion, but he had long since made peace with that pain. Now he just smiled at her softly, happy that she had her peace-

”He has your dagger.”

Ah, now there was the hostility he was expecting... and, yes, it came from the male. The two of them locked eyes in silent contest, even as Ayatah spoke his name and her voice dropped low, as if to placate him. He doubted if the hard-faced male even heard, eyes boring into Razkar with undisguised mistrust. He recognized it very well: every male that took an interest in his sisters was greeted with the same icy manner, so was he really surprised that this Bennik would do the same?

No, and when the conversation steered from him, Razkar knew that the two of them would have words later.

”This is true. Greetings, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls. You are welcome here. I am Paira, Ayatah’s mother.”

He bowed low, as befitted a male meeting a leading female from a different clan, hand over his heart as he pledged himself to her hospitality. When he looked back up he saw... Goddess, he saw so much of his own mother in those eyes. Shrewd and careful, calculating but not cold. The capacity for warmth and love, but... guarded, as with all mothers towards those who could bring both joy and pain to their flesh and blood.

"I thank you for your welcome, mistress. Ayatah had told me much of yourself and your clan. I am honored to be among you."

His greeting was, he would understand later, much more formal and elaborate that the clans of Taloba were used to. The clans there were no less Myrian than their Jungle-born siblings, but they were more... cosmopolitan, Razkar guessed the word was. Much more haste and less ceremony.

”I imagine that the two of you have a story to share, to say the least.”

Razkar managed a sheepish smile and held onto Ayatah's hand as much for reassurance as affection. She squeezed back and he felt his courage redouble, back straightening, head nodding firmly.

"We shall indeed, mistress."

"Indeed. Well... dinner is nearly prepared, and your timing is flawless," Paira's eyes slid to her daughter and her formal countenance dropped to wink in mirth. "Though you always did have a knack for arriving just before meals..."

Chuckling softly, the Scattered Boned walked back to the camp fire where the food was waiting, peppering the two new arrivals with questions as the sun began a slow descent behind the the ziggurats of Taloba.

[Ayatah]

The greeting had gone as well as it could have, Ayatah thought. She had never introduced a male as a lover before. Comrade, yes, even friend. But it was something quite different to bring home a male that her family - even the youngest members, it seemed - knew had been intimate with their clan daughter.

”Quinneth didn’t cook, did she?” Ayatah asked as her mother clasped a strong hand on her shoulder.

Paira laughed, opened her mouth to answer --

But was interrupted by someone. And there was only one person within the Scattered Bones that would dare speak over one of the older female members.

”I am not cooking, my dear night child. I am sure you will be thrilled to know this.”

The Myrians stepped aside, revealing behind them a small, fragile-looking old woman. She clutched onto an ivory walking stick, embedding it into the earth and yanking it back out as she potted towards the young couple. Despite her age, she was still quick of wit, and her dark eyes glinted knowingly as she glanced from Ayatah to Razkar, and back again.

”Raz, this is Quinneth. My Great-Grandmother and head of our clan.”

The elderly woman finally stood in front of them, and her bony fingers brushed Ayatah’s stomach gently. ”A tiger.” The words were barely loud enough for the two lovebirds to hear, and by now the rest of the Scattered Bones had seated themselves around the roaring bonfire to ready themselves for their meal.

”Yes. A tiger.” She spoke slowly, almost cautious about what else her Great-Grandmother seemed to know.

”And this… young man…” Quinneth began to circle the Myrian male, taking in his height, his tattoos, the scars on his body, ”…is who you have decided to share your birth weapon with?” The words were not cruel or cold, but calm and inquiring. It was Quinneth who enforced the many traditions of the Scattered Bones, including that of the very weapon she had spoken of. She knew the importance of clam rituals, and the emotional attachment required to share such a treasured item.

”Yes.”

The old woman nodded, hmming as she finally completed her patrol around Razkar and stood in front of him. Now she stared at his face, squinting her dark eyes. Ayatah watched, part bemused, part confused.

”Look after her, Razkar,” And with that, the old woman began to make her way towards the rest of the chattering clan. She waggled her finger in the air as she walked away, ”I still know my way around an axe if you don’t.”

Ayatah grinned, chuckling as she watched the matriarch of her family walk away. ”I think she approves,” she said, sliding close to Razkar and intertwining both hands with his. ”Now let’s go show the rest of family why I--“ and she paused momentarily before finishing her sentence, ”why I love you.”

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

”Raz, this is Quinneth. My Great-Grandmother and head of our clan.”

Razkar immediately bowed his head in reverence towards the wizened figure that walked towards them. She was slow, and bent with age but one look in those dark beady eyes and Razkar could see a fully-functioning mind working behind the ravages of age. This woman was clearly no fool.

”And this… young man……is who you have decided to share your birth weapon with?”

He felt the careful and close scrutiny as the matriarch circled him, but strangely enough, he was not unnerved by it. There was nothing aggressive about Quinneth, that much was clear within moments of meeting her. She was strength and confidence and... reassurance. For herself, her clan, her family and all those who met her. And when she spoke and Ayatah answered, he felt that same confidence flow through him.

”Yes.”

”Look after her, Razkar. I still know my way around an axe if you don’t.”

Razkar did not doubt her words, and found himself nodding frantically like he did when his own grandmother fixed him in that unblinking stare she did so well. Quinneth walked/waddled away from them, apparently satisfied, and Razkar felt a whoosh of relief escape him.

”I think she approves. Now let’s go show the rest of family why I-- why I love you.”

Goddess, how it felt to hear her say that. He couldn't even find the words for it, even after a whole day. All he knew was that it was... armor. Yes, his warrior mind could grasp that. It was protection and talisman all at once, keeping him safe against the world and his own fears. It made him feel invincible, and he had but to look into those brown eyes to know it was as true as Syna in the sky and Myri on her throne.

Razkar smiled and kissed her softly, but deeply, utterly ignoring Bennik's brief snort of anger. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her nose with his own.

"It would be my pleasure, my love. I'm starving."

[Ayatah]

"It would be my pleasure, my love. I'm starving."

His words, and that kiss, were enough to make Ayatah’s skin flush and her lips crack into a smile. Taking his hand, she led him to the hubbub of clan activity, sitting down on a wooden bench beside the flames. They were between a stony-faced woman who was heavily pregnant, and a young boy who turned to the couple excitedly.

”Is that a gladius? My father uses one but my mother says he’s a terrible teacher and misses more than he hits.” The young lad grinned eagerly, enthralled by the prospect of socialising with a new older male. Like many boys verging on adolescence, Ayatah’s half-brother had reached that age where parental guidance and loving relatives were the last people he wanted to listen to. This phase of youthful male arrogance would not survive long in a matriarchal society like that of the Myrians’, so the Scattered Bones did not bother to lecture the young boy.

”That’s because your father didn’t listen to his dear older sister when she tried to teach him how patience and practise leads to skill.” Ayatah retorted teasingly. ”Raz, this is Tronx, my adorable brother.” She passed a steaming leg of some kind of jungle bird to Raz, before selecting one for herself. The meat was cooked just enough, entrapping the moisture and herbs that had been thrown onto the bird as it cooked.

The boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning at the jibe, ”but that’s boring, Aya. I want to learn to fight, not how to wait around like some little kid.” In truth, the boy was barely out of childhood at thirteen years old. But being one of the older children in the clan, he seemed to believe that he was more mature and adult than his cousins.

”How about Aya and our guest of honour tell us the story behind that tiger pelt?”

The request was from Paira, but the rest of the Scattered Bones nodded in agreement, turning towards Raz and Ayatah. They fell silent, some leaning forwards to hear the tale better over the crackling flames. Ismae shuffled to her sister’s feet, still munching noisily on her vegetables. Out of the corner of her eye, Ayatah saw Bennik stand up awkwardly and march into one of the huts. She had expected him to be hostile, but that was just rude.

So she would ignore it, and instead she turned to Razkar, an easy smile on her face. ”I think you should start our story, my Raz.” She rested a hand on his knee, encouraging the retale of their previous days’ adventures. To her left, Ismae giggled at the open sign of affection.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

”I want to learn to fight, not how to wait around like some little kid.”

As someone who had actually been a little boy not too many years before, Razkar knew that he should have shut up, but his training shone through and he couldn't stop himself.

"There's more to being a warrior than fighting, Tronx. There's training, and cleaning your kit and armor, sharpening your weapons, keeping your body in shape, doing chores for your fang, lots of things go into it."

Tronx's brow knited together as he chewed this over with his bird leg. Then he finalyl shook his head with that utter self-assurance of the willfully ignorant and spoke with his mouth full.

"Well, yeah, I know there's that, but I just want to be one of those men that fights."

"I'm one of those men."

"Really?!"

"Yes, and I have to clean latrines, too."

The dazzling enthusiasm with which Ronx squeaked the last word died quickly. Once again thick black hedges combined, and then he shook his head, safe in his ironclad and implacabe logic.

"Then you're doing it wrong."

"... oh."

”How about Aya and our guest of honour tell us the story behind that tiger pelt?”

He'd never been so happy to be called upon to speak in public. If he had stayed much longer Tronx was bound to ask him to fight him or see his collection or toy swords or try band persuade him to smuggle him into the Barracks. He had that kind of relentless adolescent drive to him that scorned the rules even when they clipped him around the ear.

Then he realized what Paira had asked, and the honor of it sunk in. Myrians had always been a storytelling people. Reading and writing weren't new concepts to them, but they loved their culture of oral history and entertainment far more than any that could be found on dry, silent parchment. The elders of the clans could recount entire sagas, entire histories from memory, and make it not a tedious tract by a roller-coaster of adventure and enlightenment.

He had been chosen for that role now, and he was honored... and that petching male ruined the moment.

Ayatah and Razkar were not the only one whose gaze flickered over to Bennik as he got up without a sound and turned his back on his clan and family. Literally. There were rushes of inhaled breath, shocked gasps and mutterings, but Paira just pursed her lips and mirrored that smile Ayatah gave him.

Bennik wold be dealt with, he knew that much. The females did not tolerate disrespect, not from anyone, and if he was lucky, he might just get a birching.

Still, Razkar though bitterly, he knew that, and hates me enough to insult them anyway?

”I think you should start our story, my Raz.”

Her Raz. Alright, then, that made things much better.

Revitalized after the awkward moment, Razkar got to his feet and slowly circled the fire, wanting to build up some kind of tempo to his speech. He'd been listening and watching storytellers since he could remember, and knew they had a certain... flair for the dramatic.

"I had returned to my home, my clan, and may family, after a season serving with the army of Taloba. Three days I trekked through the Jungle, and came upon my village, unchanged in both appearence and its love for me. But whom should come across us..." he stressed the words, turning slowly to Ayatah "... but a stranger! Paler, taller, not entirely all she seemed to be be... but much more than she thought she was."

"He's talking about you, right?"

Ayatah just roled her eyes at Ismae's eyes and continued listening. To Razkar's surprise, he found that he had a captive audience.

"Greetings and welcomes were exchanged, and she was just in time for dinner." He smiled at Paira knowingly. "It seems you were true, mistress, about her... knack. But I had not only returned to see friend and family. I had a vow to uphold-" here he planted a fist across his chest, and the sheer martial gesture make Tronx sit up and take notice "-and I would redeem it. A witch... a mage... an elder with the Power of Bones-" he waggled his fingers before the children, who shuddered and shrunk away (but would claim to never doing so when asked later) at the mention of Malediction "-who had gifted me with her services... and wanted something in return. The whole skeleton... of a tiger."

There was a brief hubub and he paused, letting his words sink in and the scenery take form in his audience's eyes. He kept his pace, slowly circling back to Ayatah.

"By the fire, with my family, the beautiful stranger sat with me. We talked, chatted, until I was bold enough to ask her for aid on this quest. I knew it would be dangerous... but I saw steel in this female. And if she had survived the Jungle and her own time with the army of Taloba, then a tiger hunt she could survive also."

Here a brief round of cheers and Razkar shot his lover a wink.

"My love," he said with a short, polite, almost theatrical bow to Ayatah, "would you care to continue?"

[Ayatah]

She had not expected him to be able to tell a story so well - but as Razkar explained their meeting, she watched the faces of her relatives. All were entranced; even her mother leant forward like an eager child.

It is quite a story, I guess… It had been easy for her to not appreciate the drama and danger involved in the task of killing a tiger. Not that she was completely unaware of it - she would never shake the fear when that beast hung over her - but after everything… It was Razkar that were her memory the story, not necessarily what they achieved together beforehand.

The Scattered Bones laughed along with his comment about Ayatah’s timing skills, making her skin blush and her mother nod fervently.

But it was Tronx, who had seemed almost unimpressed with Razkar’s apparent latrine-cleaning responsibilities, who was truly enthralled with the male’s story. His jaw dropped when the word ‘Power of Bones’ were spoken. He turned to Ayatah, whisperingly desperately:

”Is he a magic warrior?”

She was almost childishly annoyed that the young boy had disrupted Ayatah’s attention to the story (even if she did know how it ended). ”Yes, and he’ll come after you if you interrupt again.”

With that, the child snapped his mouth shut and turned back to the older male, eyes still wide with amazement.

"My love, would you care to continue?"

Ismae sighed dreamily, stirring laughter from the adults around the bonfire. Ayatah ruffled her little sister’s hair - much to the child’s disgruntlement - and stood to make her way beside Razkar.

The older Myrians were glowing with pride already, wide smiles on their faces, despite having not yet heard about the actual hunting and killing of the tiger.

But for Paira, there was something more meaningful in those last words that the Myrian male had said. My love…. This young man had called her daughter - and Ayatah was truly her daughter, nobody else’s - his ‘love’. The words had a huge weight to them, and for a chime the older woman wondered if the two youngsters know the importance of such a word.

But then she saw the grin on her eldest child’s face, and how it was mirrored on this newcomer’s own. It had taken many years - and a half-Eypharian daughter along the way - for Paira of the Scattered Bones to find someone that she could say she loved. But even now, after ten or so years and two more children with the same man, she could not remember ever looking at him with such adoration.

She is no longer just mine, she realised. The thought was a sad one… but there was hope in there too. She had always prayed that her eldest daughter would not have to wait so long to find love -- and it seemed that Myri had listened.

”So after sleeping at the Shorn Skulls’ village - yes, sleeping, Quinneth! Don’t look at me like that, I have some self control.” Her words broke down into laughter, albeit slightly embarrassed. Eventually, she restarted her part of the tale, ”after slee-eeping, we set out into the jungle. Our plan - or rather, Razkar’s plan - was to head to the Kandukta. As we all know, that’s the one place where a tiger will always appear eventually, so I approved.” Another chuckle, and she toyed with his hand as she spoke, almost unconsciously. It was strange retelling a story that had happened just days ago, and so much had changed since.

”To get the tiger’s attention, we decided to use a deer as bait.” That got approving nods from the Scattered Bones. In particular, the heavily pregnant woman that Ayatah had sat next to, for it was her that hunted the majority of their meals (when she wasn’t on the verge of childbirth, that is). ”So we sat, in a tree for… Myri knows how long. And eventually, the deer’s bleating bought towards us a tiger.” Her hand jerked towards the skin, still folded behind the Myrians - and well away from the crackling fire. She walked around her relatives and to the striped pelt. In a grand gesture, she pulled it up, letting the sheer size of the skin speak for her. The silence spoke volumes; even Quinneth was shocked. ”as you can see, he was a big boy.”

She folded the pelt back up, eyes glazing over in marvel. Then she continued. ”We started with arrows - both of us firing together,” Now her attention was on Razkar, wearing a knowing smile on her face as she recalled their competition for first-shot. ”The tiger didn’t appreciate our arrows at all, and so he came towards us. Now this is where my memory gets foggy, but one thing I remember clearly is the beast hanging over me, swinging those damn claws downwards…” A hand went to her stomach, touching those still-sensitive scratches. ”Without Razkar, I would be dead. And that part, at least, is as simple as that.”

The Scattered Bones turned in unison from Ayatah to Razkar. Paira dipped her head in thanks; a simple gesture but it was extremely uncommon for an older woman to show such a mark of respect for a man, let alone a younger one. And even more rare, and perhaps more significant, Quinneth did the same.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Razkar]

”Without Razkar, I would be dead. And that part, at least, is as simple as that.”

It was... heady, Razkar had to admit. To see her clan look at him with respect and thanks, not to mention the bows from the elder females. That alone was enough to freeze him in surprise. Even ancient Quinneth bent her frail form to him, if only for a moment.

But the young male did his best to rally and not preen or strut, even inwardly. He had tried hard, relentlessly in fact, not to allow pride and hubris to manifest themselves within him through his actions. That was the slow death of a warrior, to be corrupted by his prowess, not enhanced by it.

Looking at Ayatah, speaking of him with such reverence, he found it easy to cast those fears aside.

"Foggy?" He said, slipping back into his role of storyteller well, but without the flourish now. Just intensity, and his eyes did not leave hers. "Then let me remind you, and regale your clan, Aya. I remember the beast leaping for us-" he stressed the world and made his hands into claws for the children, who shuddered again "-and I went tumbling from my perch. I hacked at the beast but it bore me to the ground, wounded but far from dead, and backed me into a corner. It was huge, children. Fierce and proud and furious and as close to me-" he bent down to nose level with Ismae, half-hiding behind a cushion "-as I am to you, little one..."

Razkar stood back up, voice lowering a touch, becoming more intense, if possible. He remembered the sight of that monster in front of him, huge and blotting out the sun and hope. He had but his gladius in hand and against the power of the tiger, it would merely buy him a fighting death, not a victory. He remembered...

"But your daughter dropped from the tree, light as a leopard. Her eyes, Shattered Bones... her eyes were clear and cold as polished stone." He reached back and held up the dagger she had given him for all to hear. "She struck clean and perfect with this, opening the monster's side and distracting it. She bought me the perfect moment to bury my gladius in its head."

Now Razkar bowed to her.

"She saved me. Of that, I am most sure."

[Ayatah]

There had always been an electric chemistry between them, even if to say so was a cliché. But that night, as the two of them jointly told their story, Ayatah realised the chemistry was not simple sexual attraction. There was a harmony, a synchronisation between them that lingered in their eye contact and how their sentences simply… bounced off each other’s.

”She saved me. Of that, I am most sure.”

Ayatah smiled and mouthed her own thanks, though words would never truly represent just how… gracious she was. Not that he had saved her, or even that he had given to her the great gift a tiger pelt; but for loving and accepting her.

”We saved each other,” she added quietly, and it was not clear whether she specifically meant the tiger, or something else.

”And then afterwards?”

Ayatah turned to the little voice. Ismae had shuffled forward, and she now sat right at her sister’s feet. The half-Eypharian smiled at the eager child, but did not answer her question straight away.

Aah yes... Afterwards. Now this memory bought a different smile to Ayatah’s lips. Once the tiger had been slain, her predatory attention had switched to another victim. She recalled how she had prowled towards Razkar, in the same way that she had seen cats stalk their prey - but her actions had been driven by another animal need; lust and desire and attraction. Then they had kissed, for the first of many times.

It was hardly the stuff to share over a family meal, but Ayatah delighted in the recent memory all the same. Ismae poked her calf, pouting and whining after being ignored for all of two or three chimes.

”Afterwards…” She crouched down, gently brushing loose dark hairs from her little sister’s face. Oh, how she loved the wde-eyed little child, ”we returned to the village. And Razkar did me the great honour of gifting me the tiger pelt.”

”And is that why you’re kissing him now?”

The adults laughed, whilst Tronx and the other children pulled faces. Kissing?! What a disgusting thing to do. ”Well, it certainly doesn’t hurt to give a girl a tiger pelt…” Ayatah’s obsidian eyes danced in the flames as she spoke. ”And that is why I decided to give Razkar my birth weapon.” She no longer spoke to just Ismae, but the entirety of her clan. In the shadows, where the great bonfire flames could not reach, she could have sworn she saw the moody figure of Bennik keeping his distance, but listening all the same. ”Because not only did he save my life, but because… I love him.” She nodded in affirmation, just to drive the point home.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||