New Beginnings [Liriel/Abashai]

[Nya Winters]

Nya tried to imagine Namiche's grief and pain. And though Liriel was a good storyteller, she simply couldn't understand why the man would lay down and waste water crying when he was upset that he had no water to begin with. How frustrating! If she were there, she'd have stalked over to him, shook him, and knocked some sense into him, seeing the man as weak rather than strong for letting everything bother him so much. It was still a complex problem to Nya. Why in the world did people stay in a place that was so unforgiving? Did the Gods demand it of them? Where they just overly stubborn? Nya snuck a glance at Abashai and for a moment could believe the truth in that thought, because she figured nothing would budge her bondmate if he decided to plant himself somewhere and never leave.

The tale continued and a bird was included. So they survived because of faith and understanding? Nya still didn't understand! She almost growled her frustration, but got a little satisfaction out of the fact that Namiche ate the bird. She would have done the same thing. But perhaps the bird could have shown him water or even lead him to other birds. Crows flocked together, so maybe there would have been well enough to feed all his people if he would have followed it. The Chaktawe were a confusing people, but not any more so than humans. Nya wasn't certain what to do. She felt sure Abashai would understand the story, and probably Liriel too. But she was still confused... he left his people, cried, heard a voice that told him more suffering would come, but that he'd understand eventually, ate a crow, and came home.

Nya would have handled things differently, that was for sure. The forest cat squirmed again, this time in frustration, and smiled at Liriel. It was not her fault. She was a good storyteller, but the meaning of the story was lost to Nya. Maybe there was more? Maybe the crow meat was poisonous and gave Namiche a vision of where the Chaktawe could find water and thats how they survived in the desert thereafter? She waited, eager to hear more, her mind wandering and wondering why the voice was so important.

[Abashai]

Abashai listened attentively as Namiche's tale unfolded. He began to understand the Chaktawe concept of Searching, seeking to hear from the divine. But the tribesmen's ways seemed harsh, the test of survival (and therefore the risk of death) to find what they sought. But the story of Namiche was similar in many ways to the stories of the Benshiran Penitias, tales of people in desperate situations from which only a god could deliver them.

Abashai could see Nya fidgeting on the floor. The story chafed her in some way. He could see the questions behind her green eyes, he had heard them before, or similar ones. She was a cat and, to her, the ways of people like humans and Chaktawe often seemed to contradict common sense. After spending time hearing himself answering his bondmate's questions, Abashai was beginning to agree. But his guardian was polite and smiled at Liriel, and the bonded friends waited to hear of Namiche's fate.

[Liriel]

Liriel was nearing the end of the story, which was a good thing since the telling was tiring. She let this tiredness show through in her voice and posture, as it echoed what Namiche must have been feeling.

“When Namiche arrived at his village, days later, his young sister ran out to meet him with a smile of joy. As he walked wearily through the scattering of tents and ramshackle shelters, he saw his people were not so hungry, not quite so afraid. The reason soon became clear—several days ago a flock of crows had descended upon the village. The people had rejoiced in this unexpected source of food, and now they welcomed Namiche back as a hero. They realized that it was his faith and courage that had brought the crows. Watching the renewed energy of his people, the way the hope shone in their eyes again, Namiche knew at last what Eywaat had meant for him to understand. He called together his people, and this is what he told them.”

Liriel lowered the tone of her voice, spoke with strength and confidence. “We cannot go back to the way we used to live—that life is gone. We mourn it, as we should. But now we must move forward. I do not wish to leave these lands, and I know you also do not. These are the lands of our ancestors, the place where our people belong. If we are to remain here, we must learn to live in a new way. The good earth has left us and the birds come and gone, so we too must be like the dust, and the crows, riding the back of the desert wind. We must learn to hunt, and to build shelters to protect us from the winds and heat. We must become travelers, following the sands to find what we need. It will not be an easy life, but I know that you are strong, and clever. We can learn to change and adapt, while still retaining what makes us Chaktawe. I pledge my life to making this happen.”

Now, how to end the story? For the Chaktawe, it usually went on for some time, detailing the steps to their survival and the splitting of the tribes. But those details did not seem necessary at the moment, and this story was meant to be about the Chaktawe’s beginnings. Liriel would end it in a way that gave hints to what happened afterwards but emphasized what Namiche’s contributions had wrought.

“And he did. As he said, learning to live as nomads in a harsh land was not easy. But the Chaktawe are resilient and proud, and from the depths of their pain and suffering make beauty and life. Namiche and his people had faith in the gods, and in their own abilities. They survived, as Eywaat had promised, and more than that they thrived, growing too large to live as one tribe. Namiche had three sons, and when they were grown they gathered their followers around them and led them to different ends of the desert. Each of the three tribes formed its own customs and ways of life, but each considers itself Chaktawe above all else. And every Chaktawe remembers Namiche and his tribe, and the sacrifices they made. For they know that without Namiche’s courage and faith, they would not be the strong and capable people they are today.”

Liriel lay back and closed her eyes for a moment, pleased with the ending she had improvised, then looked to her audience for their reactions.

[Nya Winters]

Nya smiled politely, nodded as if she understood, and rose to add another log to the fire. "Thank you very much for the story. It tells me much about your people." She said, squatting to thrust a log onto the pile of coals still glowing red in the small hearth. If there was something Nya did understand and take away from the story, it was the lesson about learning new ways. Two seasons ago, even when she had lived still with her parents, she would not have touched a stick of wood let alone knelt by a fire to feed it. Fire used to terrify her, even when the cold winter winds blew and she knew there would be no survival without it. Now though, playing with it was like a second nature to her. It was Abashai's influence. Sure, she could build a fire, but she'd always been afraid of it, handling the implements awkwardly and creating more danger. With flint and the quiet strength of a man's confidence, she wasn't afraid anymore. Tending a fire was second nature.

So she figured if an awkward Kelvic could change, so too could an entire race of people.

Nya stepped back and picked up a small hand towel that she used to cover the hot handle of the teapot. She quietly moved through the room, refilling tea and making sure the pot had water in it to reheat. Nya wasn't sure how much longer they'd be up talking because Liriel looked tired, but she didn't want either of them to be thirsty or without warm tea. When she was done and everything was back in place, she settled on the floor again, still smiling slightly - still thinking about the Chaktawe.

[Abashai]

Liriel's storytelling abilities would have been welcome around any benshiran fire. The use of her voice, even her body language, helped to breath life into her tale. The story shed some light on the Chaktawe. Sadly, Abashai admitted to himself, he had looked down upon the Chaktawe because they wore animal skins and hunted and foraged. Looking at the lovely half-Chaktawe woman sitting across from him, he was ashamed, for they were a people who loved and cared for each other, who were people just like him.

As Nya revived the fire, Abashai sat up. "I want to thank you too. I really had no idea how the Chaktawe tribes came about." He smiled at Nya and thanked her as she filled his cup with tea. "You really are a talented storyteller. I hope you will be able to utilize your storytelling and artistic talents while you are here. It would be a shame not to share them."

Liriel did appear tired, and he did not want to tax her if she desired to retire, but the woman had once spoken up when she intended to call it a night, so he assumed she was comfortable enough to do so again if she had had enough for the evening.

[Liriel]

Liriel smiled at Abashi, grateful for the compliments. While she was confident in her ability as a storyteller, it never hurt to receive such feedback. And it was good to know her story had worked for a non-Chaktawe audience, had made sense and said something of import even though her new friends know nothing about the culture or history of her adopted people.

“Thank you,” she told Abashi. “I certainly hope to continue telling stories in whatever form I can, even though I am here in a strange place. It might take a while for me to figure out just how to do that here—I know so little of the city.”

Accepting a cup of tea from Nya, Liriel sipped and looked at the Kelvic thoughtfully. She was being so quiet, and her expression still seemed a bit confused. What was it about her story that had put the woman off like this? Of course, the easiest way to answer that question was to simply ask, but not in a way that made it sound like she wished to lecture Nya or was offended that she didn’t see the story the same way Abashi did. Just a hint, something to make the woman feel comfortable asking about whatever bothered her.

“I have to admit, Nya, you seem a little quiet. I shortened the story, left some things out because it usually goes on for hours. I’m not surprised if there’s something there that doesn’t make much sense to an outsider.”

[Nya Winters]

Nya met Liriel's gaze and froze. Was she that shallow? That easy to read? Nya looked thoughtful and half panicked. It wasn't in the forest cat's nature to lie at all. But slowly, living within Abashai's influence, she'd learned that it was sometimes not appropriate to say what she was thinking. But Liriel was right. There were things she didn't understand. Nya stood at a crossroads with a choice before her. She could ask her questions and perhaps get straight answers for the first time since she began wondering about the people of Eyktol. The answer might be obvious, and therein lied the problem where she might look stupid for asking it. But Nya didn't mind so much how others viewed her. And if she didn't know an obvious answer, she deserved being viewed as stupid. The other danger was that her questions were too personal to Abashai, for there were vast areas in his life that were off limits to her questions. But again, here was her chance to know. She longed to ask, but restrained herself in the end. The potential for Abashai' to be made uncomfortable or to feel awkward weren't worth the forest cat getting questions she'd long held onto answered.

The forest cat stood there for along time, not realizing how long it took her to actually work out what to do in her mind.

When she finally spoke, it was with a slight little huff of uncertainty, and an assurance that it wasn't Liriel's storytelling that was the problem. "When someone tells me a new story, I often do not understand all of it, even when it should be obvious to everyone. You are a wonderful storyteller, Liriel, and I would come often to hear you tell a story. I think you should talk to the Knights and see if you cannot create something like an Arts Center. It would be a good place for Sylrias, for there are a lot of other people here that came from all over the rest of the world." She said softly. Glancing over and meeting the blue-green eyes of her bondmate, she smiled.

"And I will think on your story for a day or two. The meanings will come to me then, and I will not feel silly for asking you to explain your own words." Nya said, stretching her legs back out across the floor. "But I do have one more about yourself. You said you tell stories... and I've seen you dance. What other things do you like?" Nya asked, carefully drawing the attention away from her lack of understanding.

[Abashai]

Abashai watched the interaction between the women. Maybe for the first time, he saw Nya Winters caught off guard. His bondmate may have anticipated the question from Abashai, later, but Nya did not expect it from their guest. Liriel did not understand why the young woman grew quiet, but Abashai did. He had seen the reaction before, when there was mentioned of things from the desert. He did not speak of it or his past often with Nya. The memories brought confusion and hurt. Nya knew it was a topic he would not discuss, though everytime it came up, he saw how she would bite back questions out of respect for him.

As the kelvic paused, he felt a pang of anxiety for her. He could see she had questions to ask, but she hesitated. For whatever reason, she did not ask them. Nya was typically very forthright, but she proved quite diplomatic when necessary. Her response was humble and gracefully turned back to Liriel. Abashai returned a warm smile to his remarkable bondmate and directed his attention to the dark-eyed woman across from him.

Abashai studied the half-benshiran again, having learned a little more about the woman as the three of them interacted. Liriel was perceptive, probably a skill learned from reading her audiences. She also was a mender, one who could comprehend both sides of an issue and bring out common ground in order to resolve conflict. The fact that she made it to Syliras from Eyktol spoke greatly of her character. This one has seen and learned much for a woman who, he guessed, had yet to see 20 years. Cupping his tea mug between his hands, Abashai held his peace and allowed the conversation to progress.

[Liriel]

Liriel wondered, privately, whether or not Nya was just dodging the questions. Maybe she didn’t want to answer because she thought Liriel would be offended, or maybe the questions were too personal. Or perhaps Nya felt embarrassed at her confusion. Liriel was sure there were things the Kelvic had not understood, but it was not her place to push the other woman to places she wasn’t comfortable. It could be that the gap between their races and experiences was simply too great.

So Liriel went along with Nya’s attempt to move the conversation in another direction. She didn’t mind talking about herself, though eventually she hoped to find a way to get Nya and Abashi to reveal more about themselves. They were so friendly, and yet in a way so reticent.

“Back home, what I did the most was perform. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a play before, but in essence what I would do is dress up as character from a story and act out that story with other people. I preformed in versions of the story I just told you more than once."

Leaning back, Liriel considered the activity that had consumed so much of her life. “Plays are a more powerful medium than storytelling alone, in many ways. You get to see the events unfolding before you. And it is fascinating to fully become another person for a time, to leave your life behind and enter another’s.”

Liriel smiled, sipped at her tea. She decided this seemed the time to mention the thought she’d had earlier. “You know, while you were telling your story I imagined it as though it were being preformed. I think it would be a wonderful story to act out. There’s a good amount of symbolism, and it would be interesting to see how it would work out as a play. I’m afraid I do that with most stories I hear—I just can’t help imagining what it would look like.”

[Nya Winters]

Nya had never seen a play before. She'd heard about them, even read a few in books, but didn't truly make the link from what Liriel was saying to what the reality is. "I have read plays. But I did not realize people actually dressed up and pretended to be the characters. That sounds really interesting. I would like to see people do that sometime." She said, glancing at Abashai to see if he'd ever heard of this before either.

"I see what you are saying. I imagine it is powerful. Your mind can paint pictures, but it is not like seeing the real thing. When I first heard about Stormhold, I pictured it in my mind, but when I really saw it for the first time, I still stopped and looked at it a long long time." Nya said, relating it to a tale verses a play.

Nya nodded about Liriel's suggestion to tell the story of the Nyavani. "I would like to see it too. I would like to see my mother do it. I would have even more liked to be there, but since it already happened, seeing it again would be great. I can see you being like my mother, walking the pictograph and then believing in the single grain of sand. You would do a good job playing like this." Nya said, smiling thoughtfully.

She missed her mother, acutely, there in that moment. Though she said nothing, she hoped a letter would come soon from her parents, though she knew it would likely be a season or so before mail came.