Closed Lesson The First (Isalie)

[Colt]

The woman’s attention was momentarily captured by the departure of Tuka, and he even caught a small, unrecognizable sound coming from her lips. He did not arch an eyebrow in surprise, though he wanted to; the cat had had an effect on her, it seemed. Immediately, the wheels in his head began to turn; perhaps she would respond much better if she had more contact with a cat? His mind quickly went to Banti; the little kitten was always going off where she shouldn’t, escaping his sight even as he tried desperately to keep a hold of all three of the siblings. Perhaps… yes, perhaps Isalie could look after Banti! If she responded to her anywhere near how she had responded to Tuka, it would surely give her some sense of ease in her new home, and then Banti would have someone to keep and eye on her and keep her out of trouble. Two birds with one stone.

He was shocked out of his thoughts when the woman spoke. For a moment, he simply looked at her, but quickly stifled his surprise to decode what she’d said. The eloquence of grammar was lost on him, but he did manage to pick out “Dainellas,” “name” and “horse,” and the inflection of the words led him to believe she had been asking a question. From there, it was not a great leap to assume what exactly she had been asking.

Shahar motion for attention again, then gestured to himself. “Drykas.” He gestured to the woman. “Human.” Then to Dainellas. “Horse. Horse. Horse.”

“Name. Name. Name.” He gestured to himself again. “Shahar.” He pointed at the mare. “Dainellas.”

Looking back, Shahar could never explain what he did next. He moved and spoke before he’d thought the thoughts, as if the word had already made itself and then flown from him of its own accord.

Without his consent, Shahar's hand continued the circle of names and gestured at the woman. You. “Hope.”

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

This time, she doesn't take her eyes off of the man, careful to watch his hand movements as well as what he was saying, half of which was in the Common tongue, in order for her to be able to understand what was being said. Her brushing motions along the horse do continue, though at a more lacklustre pace, and she was taking less care in covering all areas of the horse's fur, just so that she could pay attention to Shahar. He gives her examples, sharing his own name with her, though he had already told her, so that she would understand what he meant. Then the horse's, which was the word she she originally questioned.. Dainellas... A pretty name for a pretty creature. The smile reaches her lips once again.

The smile fades slowly though, as he points the hand towards Isalie herself and says a third word in this particular sequence. Hope A word in Pavi that meant nothing to the non-Drykas, but one which clearly meant something to Shahar, given the expression on his face.

Hope Then it dawns on Isalie was Shahar was implying. She didn't know what the word meant, but she knew what it signified. Not once had the man called her by her name. Indeed, Isalie had never even shared it with the Drykas people, to her knowledge. And, if she were to stay here indefinitely, she needed a name. The young woman opens her mouth to retort with what she had been calling herself since she was old enough to know what a name was, but no words come out.

The man in front of her had bought her, had exchanged his money in order to have her. No matter what the Drykas had said before she had been sold, she knew she was little motor than property to this man. As shown now as he tried to teach her how to care for a horse, he was trying to find a use for her.

He had the right to call her what he wanted, if he chose to. Her past meant nothing to him, so why should her name?

"Hope." She says quietly, dropping her hand to her side, finally dropping the act of half-heartedly brushing the horse. Her expression darkens ever so slightly, as if she were trying to let a part of herself go, a part that she would like to forget anyway. She wonders if the word means anything in the Pavi language, she wonders what her new owner thinks of her, to give her this name. Nervously she nibbles on her lower lip, glancing to the horse, then to the kitten, then back to Shahar, unsure of herself.

[Colt]

Hope. The word struck Shahar even as it struck the woman… as it struck Hope. Hope. Shahar couldn’t hide the surprise on his face as he stared at Dainellas’ withers. Hope. What did that mean?

He glanced up, and saw the blankness return to Hope’s face. She stopped in her brushing, then let her hand fall entirely. The mare, however, knew that her brushing was not completely finished, and she whickered at Hope to tell her so.

Shahar, for his part, gave no indication as to what Hope should do in response to the horse’s insistence. He had retreated into his own mind, trying to comprehend what he had just done. He had heard the woman’s name once, at the auction, but it was a name he had long since forgotten, and the woman herself had never found motivation to give it to him again. To give her an entirely new one… yes. It was like he had done to himself, with Shahar. A new name was a door, a marker of a new start. Hope was the name of his ward, of she who Shahar would see become Drykas. Hope was the name of the journey, of the student who made that journey. The wheels in his head turned, and with them came a fiery determination. When she earned Windmarks––and she would earn them, he would make sure of that––then she could choose her Drykas name on her own. Perhaps she would choose her old name, but that would be within her right… in time.

Hope did not seem to like her new name, Shahar mused. Good. He did not want her to accept it easily. He wanted her to challenge it, even better if she challenged him for it. If she hated it, that hate would drive her to claim a name of her own. An identity of her own. He would see her reach the end, if it was the last thing he did.

And to call her Hope… it was a fitting name for such a road.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Isalie... Hope stares. Shahar stares. Neither of them speaks, just as they stare at each other, or through each other, it is hard to tell. Behind her owner, Isalie sees specks of pollen, and dried grass, floating through the air, the sunlight catching them all perfectly. The ground might be broken, dull and dry, but the air is not. The runaway slave squints as she returns her focus back to her new master.

Her new name means nothing to her, but she repeats the word, trying to get the pronunciation right, and please the man. For a fraction of a chimes, she considers asking him if he could explain what the word means, but she wonders whether she has the words to ask, or if he would understand, or if he would have the words to explain to her what he name means. Or maybe it means nothing... somehow, from the expression on his face, it she realises that the word cannot not mean anything.

The young woman feels something brush her, something wet, and she squeals in shock, moving faster than she had moved in days. She jumps back, away from Shahar and away from the thing that touched her; the cold of the wet against her shoulder blade hitting her nerves and telling her brain that she is experiencing pain. Fear flashes across her face, her expression, her nigh on constantly lifeless eyes, as she stares at the man who owned her.

Her hand tightens around the brush, which is still in her hand. The bristles dig into her dry skin; more pseudo-pain that affects her more than it should. The girl hisses and instantly loosens her grip, allowing the horse's brush to fall to the ground. Her eyes dart to the creature beside her, and she calms ignoring the fading pain in her hand to stroke the creature's neck.

"Sorry, Dainellas," she whispers to the mare, speaking in Common, knowing the language means nothing to the horse, only the tone she speaks in. For the first time, the slave felt empathy for one of the Drykas; being ignored was something she was very used to. She steps closer to the proud creature, and rests her forehead on its neck, her lips curling into a momentary smile, though it is hidden from Shahar. "It won't happen again."

[Colt]

Shahar was startled violently out of his thoughts when Hope let out a piercing shriek and leaped backwards. Dainellas shied with a whinny, and the Drykas had to leap away as well to avoid her. All three parties were left considerably startled, and Shahar looked around wildly for any sign of threat. The grasses were calm, the wind still blowing and there didn’t seem to be any disturbance in the wilderness around them aside from what they had made themselves.

Dainellas was the first to calm, looking back and forth between Isalie and Shahar. Curiously, the mare whickered at the woman with the brush, almost apologetic; she hadn’t meant to frighten her, after all, and very warily extended her nose towards the woman to see if it was anger or the suddenness of being startled that had drawn such a sound.

Shahar, for his part, simply observed, and when Hope reached for the creature he masked his approval. She stroked the mare’s neck, then, to Shahar’s great pleasure, rested her forehead against the now glossy yellow coat, murmuring words that he did not understand. The hunter let them stand for awhile, and when he felt the time was right he approached.

“Finish,” he rasped in common, “then come, fireplace, for food.” Despite their gravelly nature, his voice was rather quiet; his request was by no means an urgent one, and he left her to interpret his tone as she would. Either way, he hoped it put her at ease; he seemed to have come into luck with Dainellas, as the two of them seemed to get along nicely.

The leavings of the morning meal would still be in the pot, he knew, and with a bit of stirring the embers would warm them again. The hunter left the horse and woman to it, his mood becoming one of contentedness; the lesson had gone better than expected, all things considered, and he was certainly happy with it. It would be enough. For now.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Mare and woman stand together in silence, one resting upon the other, and the world falls away, as if nothing else matters but the touching pair. With her eyes closed, and only the sounds, smells and sensations to guide her, Hope finds that she is able to forget that the horse was Dainellas, and she could pretend that she is, once again, leaning against her beloved Shadow.

This mare had different markings to the one she had suffered through trials with, and she is also paler, compared to Shadow, who had been almost black. Shadow would have been a similar size to Dainellas; slightly taller, but thinner, as the mare was clearly fed properly and often. By the last time Hope saw him, he had been too weak to even carry his owner, which was fine, because Hope had been too weak to ride him. She shakes the darker thoughts of her old companion away, wanting to remember him as the loyal mount he had been, rather than the pathetic creature he had ended up as.

To rest upon a horse, any horse, is a comforting sensation, Hope decides, and it feels like home, knowing that the languageless creature would never judge her for her words or actions. Because of this, the girl is reluctant to move when she hears Shahar speaking to her. The words are spoken quietly, but they are still an order, she concludes, and only remains against the horse for half of a chime before pushing herself away and bending down to pick up the brush. "Sorry," she repeats again, though this time, she is speaking to her owner, apologising for being so careless as to drop something.

She doesn’t glances his way, however, and turns straight back to the horse and, brushing over the same few spots to start with, continues, down Dainellas’ back, careful to guide the brush along the hairs, rather than go against them. She could see the dust and debris that had settled onto the creature rising as particles into the air, and it makes her feel good about what she is doing.

A quarter of a bell later, she walks around the horse, checking her handiwork. To her satisfaction, the mare does look better than she did before. There are a few patches remaining, and there is still clearly improvement to be made, but Hope finds herself growing tired again. For the first time, she concept of food appeals to her and she glances over to her owner, wondering if he is also satisfied with her work, hoping that they now might return to the Pavilion to eat.

[Translucent]

Congratulations On Your Hard Work!

Shahar Dawnwhisper:
XP:+1 riding, +4 teaching, +3 horsemanship, +1 observation, +2 leadership, +1 socialization
Lores: Time for Isalie to learn. Isalie:Looking less thin, Renaming Isalie

Isalie:
XP: +2 observation, +3 horsemanship, +1 socialization
Lores: bought for a reason, Dainellas : A dun mare. The lure of apathy, Currycomb: Stiff brush, New Name: Hope


Notes: Isalie, if your character is changing her name then you need to change your account name too. You can do this via the User Control Panel. Nice little thread, don’t forget to delete your grade request

As always PM me if you have issues.