Always More to Learn (Reaver)

[Irriari]

Irriari continued listening, and ruminated on the information that Reaver presented to her. It was comforting to know that the god was not going to swoop down and kill them both at this instant, however, the thought of a guard or poor beggar deciding her fate hardly seemed to be palatable either. Such things would only happen if she spoke ill of the god, she reminded herself. And she didn't hate Rhysol, so she would be fine. After a few more encouraging thoughts, she almost believed.

“Write down their stories?”

Irriari nearly pulled out her catalog of poisoncrafting recipes she had written in her own home made code, but decided against it.

“We don't write. My race doesn't read. We only speak common if taught by our slaves, and few even manage that. We have no need to write, though I truly wish I would have learned. Our history is passed down through stories, though there is little of it, due to the constant breaking of colonies. Some would say that Xy has a richer culture, but I do not know. I have only been there once, and I have never been to Din. Everything we are, have been, and will be is caught up in battles and passionate matings. That, more than anything, is what my people represent. Even if we could put it to pen and paper, who would wish to read it?”

Irriari knew that her last statement came off as bitter, but the humans had made their feelings clear about her people. She posed her next question to Reaver,

“What do you mean marked by the god?”

Irriari had never seen any ethereal markings on the members of the Ebonstryfe, but they could have been hidden by the uniforms they wore.

[Reaver]

“Write down their stories?” Reaver nodded. “We don't write. My race doesn't read..." Reaver's mask hid... much of his shocked expression. He listened, learning a great deal. It didn't stop him from commenting, however. "Nothing but battles and passionate matings? I think more then you suspect would enjoy reading about it. More-so, I suspect, if survival wasn't such an issue." “What do you mean marked by the god?” "Like it sounds, a god can mark people. I haven't met any beyond the Ebonstryfe who have markings they show, but I assure you they are out there. Most gods mark the ones among their followers they feel deserving, but I hear rumors that you can be marked for other things. Some even at birth. Beyond that, and what I've said, I'm not sure. I'm no expert." Reaver paused, thinking again about what was said. "No reading, no writing. The idea kind-of bothers me, actually. I suppose there's just that much world for me to get used to. Well, given some time, would you mind if I wrote some of those stories down later? I happen to have a collection of stories I've picked up around here. My handwriting is nothing special, however, so you probably couldn't read it even if you learned how." The last line was meant to be a joke, but given the lack of emotion present in Reaver's voice, it might be hard to tell.

[Irriari]

Irriari could hardly believe that anyone would enjoy reading about the day to day life of her race, but Reaver had lived much longer than she had, so maybe he knew someone somewhere who would enjoy reading about the struggles of her race.

Irriari nodded as Reaver described how gods and goddesses. She appreciated his short definition, as it was more than she had learned during her months in Sahova and Ravok. The zith had no idea why a god would care to mark a human but it didn't truly concern her.

Irriari smiled at his interest in writing down her stories but then frowned at the last part of the statement. Something about the joke stung, though she didn't know what. Perhaps it was the fact that he said 'even if she did learn'. Irriari knew she had wanted learn, and the comment struck too close to the insults humans had used to make her feel as if she was less.

“I do want to learn to read and write, Reaver, though not all of our race does. We are a passionate race that takes pride in the few things we make and cultivate, whether they are slaves or weaponry,.”

Her hand absently wrapped around the bow her sister, Murder, had made. Aside from being useful as a weapon, the bow provided a measure of comfort and tradition that the city of Ravok lacked. Irriari let the words hang in the air between them. She had her own passions, of course, but she didn't care to elaborate them, not yet. More than anything, she wanted to hear what Reaver would say.

[Reaver]

Reaver wasn't new to conversation, a sudden frown at a joke can last a while. He stood a touch unsure of how to continue from there, and she spoke up. “I do want to learn to read and write, Reaver, though not all of our race does. We are a passionate race that takes pride in the few things we make and cultivate, whether they are slaves or weaponry.” "You do, but... most of your race does not? I'm sorry if my assumption is wrong. If someone went to teach your race, would they learn? From that comment, perhaps the Zith should make their own written language. Their own form of writing, unique to them. Wouldn't that be something? Should such a thing come to pass, I'd enjoy learning your written language. I'm not a very fluent writer of languages, however. I can barely write mine." Another joke, but part of a test that time. Reaver was testing to see what part of what he said insulted her. He watched carefully for the changes in emotion that would inform him a touch more. He noted her hand on her bow, and made another slow step twords the water's edge while waiting for her response.

[Irriari]

Irriari continued to wait, one hand one her bow, the other hand displaying her claws as she clenched open her fist and slowly released it, spreading her fingers as far outward as they would go. Often, when she was younger, she had laughed at the other colony members for doing the same. They all stretched their fingers and fingertips as far back as they would go, and then back again, over and over. Finally, when Irriari's first airborne attack had come, and she had swiped downward at an enemy, she was shocked at how painful it was, due to the friction and resistance. Later that night, her fingers were sore and inflamed, and now, though she didn't practice it as often as before, Irriari made a habit of stretching her clawed hands out.

“Of course my race could learn.”

Irriari bristled at the comment

“Do you mix our features with that of animals and confuse the two? I have made up my own written language. It's used for my poisoncrafting, and very basic, but it does what I need.”

Irriari tapped her foot impatiently and released her bow, noticing Reaver inching away slowly, though it was with little grace. She almost chuckled, but they remembered that he was not simply a human to scare and intimidate at her leisure.

“What exactly do you think of my race, Reaver?”

Her voice was sharp, demanding an answer and her eyes searched his, even though she knew the nuit, by their nature, showed little to no emotion.

[Reaver]

“Of course my race could learn.” So that's where she isn't liking my comments. Though, I feel she's misunderstood me. “Do you mix our features with that of animals and confuse the two? I have made up my own written language. It's used for my poisoncrafting, and very basic, but it does what I need.” Reaver thought carefully having seen her reactions more carefully. He didn't like her 'testing' her claws or whatever she was doing, that wasn't a good sign at all. Perhaps she was close to just being upset enough to attack? ... Careful is the word of the day. “What exactly do you think of my race, Reaver?” "Let me clear my stance, then. I did not comment on doubting their ability to learn, no. I was asking if they they had the desire. I can clearly see your desires, to learn. However, from what you've said of the Zith, I've seen a desire to do things their way. You've implied that they do not take the ways of others, but forge their own path. That's what I've gathered of the Zith, and perhaps that they are a very proud race given your temperament. I also think your race is new to me, and my lack of knowledge in that regard is something I should fix." Reaver paused, thinking of the part that seamed to anger her most. "What person have you met that isn't part animal?" Reaver walked to the edge of the water, no-longer trying to veil the movement. "I back into a corner as you threaten me, like a mouse from a cat, yes? Humans, Zith, and many others I'm sure hunt for food rather then grow it. Why? Because that's something an animal does? No, it is because the world has simply forgotten. Perhaps the 'animal' you think I'm referencing is just a shadow on your soul, a part of instinct built into everyone. Are the Zith animals? No. Do they show things of animal nature? Yes. You grow slaves, you said? Ravok is trying to do the same, are they not? Slaves to the god Rhysol. It's... a similarity that scares me. I think your kind might get along rather well."

[Verilian]

. . Thread Award . . Irriari +1 Socialization +1 Observation +1 Intimidation Lores: Reaver the Nuit, Lore of Ravoks History, Lore of Rhysol's Governing of Ravok, Lore of "Marks", Slave Stories Might be Worth Money, Reaver While not officially retired, this account has been inactive for a long time and the CS needs updating, therefore I cannot grade the thread. If you become active again, feel free to resubmit the thread for grading. You Question My Logic? : If there are any questions on the award, feel free to PM me. Notes: Hmm.. I wonder if grading this one will bring Reaver back? It worked with Alenias. Anyway, good thread, even though it didn't finish. Keep it up, and keep writing! Notice As per the request of the Founders, threads cannot be graded unless your CS is up to date. This means you need to add threads to your thread list when you make new threads, keep your skills up to date, ledger, living expenses, ect. If you aren't up to date, you'll get a PM from me before i grade your thread. If you are up to date, disregard this notice.