All the Pretty Horses (Drusilla)

by **Zhol** on December 13th, 2014, 5:26 am

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Zhol grinned in reply to Drusilla's laughter. Most people were frightened their first time on a horse, and he was sure Dru was too, but she was hiding it well. It was a fairly sensible thing to be afraid of, truth be told: you were much higher off the ground than you were used to being, sat astride something that felt incredibly precarious every time it moved, with little or no apparent control of what it did or where it took you. It could easily run away with you, or you could fall, or it could fall with you atop it; all of those thoughts plagued everyone at first, especially in a city where most viewed horses with a mix of hesitance, disdain, and mistrust.

Gently, Zhol eased Solo into motion. He made a gesture in grassland sign for Solo to keep things slow, but he didn't need to: once again the colt proved that he was smarter than he looked, well aware that the rider astride him was new, and needed him on his best behaviour. Zhol had seem species of snail around Wind Reach that could move faster than this, but it was motion none the less.

"You're doing great," he enthused, as their clipping, clopping meander through the stables brought them to the entrance of the warrens. A few steps led up to the sturdiest door Zhol had ever encountered, which fortunately was hooked open during the day whenever people were in the stables; and beyond the tunnel began a gentle climb, ascending into the warrens. "But we're going to need to tell Solo to go a little faster if we're going to get up that slope."

He kept his voice as calm and conversational as he could, not wanting it to seem like he was springing some unexpected, unwarned challenge on her. "Remember I told you not to grip with your legs? That's because without reins, that's the only way you have to tell anything to Solo right now. To make him go faster, you need to give him a little tap with your heels, both at the same time. Not hard, just as if you're tapping him to get his attention."

"Then," he added, "Once we're in the warrens, you're going to need to help me turn the corners. To do that, you tap with just one leg, and Solo will turn away from it. Thing of it as if you're nudging him with your foot: if you want him to turn to the right, you tap with your left leg, and visa versa."

by **Drusilla** on December 15th, 2014, 4:05 pm

"A slight tap? It won't hurt him?" The last thing Drusilla wanted to do was hurt an animal that was being so patient with her. "Okay, if you say so..." She tapped her heels gently and the horse slowly gain a bit of speed. "Oh," a bit shock was in the Symenestra's voice, "You're a smart one aren't you Solo!" She figured a bit of praise couldn't hurt and she gave him a stroke on the neck.

"Honestly Zhol, even if I had wanted to use the bite thingy. I don't think I could. My arms are just too long, it would of scrunched my arms in weird ways. This however, is comfortable. So no matter how much riding I do, I won't be using these 'reins'. So I'll have to stick to tapping him, unless you find a better solution." She eyed the horse. "He doesn't seem to mind the tapping though..."

The trio made their way to the warrens, and every command Zhol gave her she repeated in Symenos for both Solo and Zhol to pick up. "Right! Now left... Right.. Good horse!" Drusilla couldn't help but wonder what Solo thought of this gibberish she spoke to him. It was nothing like the Pavi Zhol spoke. If Pavi had a form Drusilla imagined it was that of the wind blowing through the grassy sea and ruffling the Strider's manes. If that was Pavi, Nari was the twittering of song birds and the flapping of wings taking off. But Symenos rose through the air like the smoke from burning incense, spiraling along like a snake that slowly grew arms and crawled along.

by **Zhol** on January 13th, 2015, 7:22 am

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Zhol frowned as he considered the conundrum of Drusilla's arms, wondering if there was some contraption that could be devised that could make things easier and more comfortable for her. Riding as Drusilla did now was all well and good when things were slow, gentle, and when the horse was in a cooperative mood without all that much choice of where to go; but outside the mountain, on roads, in the Unforgiving, or at faster paces, staying on the horse without a saddle would become considerably harder, and less comfortable. Perhaps the Symenestra had already devised solutions. Perhaps there was something lurking in the Enclave that might provide an answer. And if there was not, perhaps this was a new challenge to occupy Zhol's thoughts next time they decided to wander somewhere they shouldn't.

A few more turns, and they emerged from the warrens into the vast cavern that the stables used to exercise their horses during less pleasant weather. Zhol wasn't sure if it was a cavern that the Inarta of old had stumbled across and appropriated, or one that reimancers had carved themselves; either way, it was large enough to accommodate a generous arena that a horse could ride around comfortably without having to turn too tightly at either end, and tall enough that shadows clung to the rock formations no matter how hard the Inarta tried to illuminate the inside. Beneath their feet, the rocky floor was covered in a thick layer of sand; Zhol remembered being told that it had been flown from the coast by wind eagle, and as he thought about it now, it surprised him to realise just how much obvious effort had gone into creating a space such as this for the horses, despite the Inarta's low opinion of them. Had the Inarta felt differently about them in the past? Was all this effort the result of one man in particular? Or was this simply a case of the Inarta simply refusing to do anything by halves, regardless of how reluctant they were?

"We're going to need to come to a stop now," Zhol explained, letting Solo and Drusilla advance a few strides into the arena before he spoke. "Instead of letting your hips move with Solo, you're going to need to encourage him to stop moving. Use your lower back to resist, to push down against him as his body tries to rise up. Think of it like putting your hand on someone to stop them moving: you don't need to press hard, but you need to be firm, and confident."

by **Drusilla** on January 31st, 2015, 3:36 am

Drusilla looked down to Zhol, "Couldn't the bite thing's rope be made longer or something like that? Is that possible at all? As you seem to feel that bite thing is of importance..." She paused. "What about the thing the Drykas use? Have you found one here in Wind Reach? I'd like to try their means of riding. Seeing as their culture revolves around horses I'd have to think they would of found the best methods for every thing horse related..." Drusilla wondered out loud.

Zhol's voice brought Drusilla back to the current events at hand. "Huh? Like putting my hand on someone to stop them from moving..." She nodded to thinking to herself. "Okay..." As Solo tried to move forward she stiffened her back, refusing to move with the colt. Solo soon got the idea and slowed to a stop. "Smart Boy~" Drusilla cooed to the colt.

"So Verda, tell me more about the Sea of Grass. About the horsemen, the Drykas. As before when you spoke of them, you withheld the fact that you were once one. I can't help feeling you could of explained things with more detail." She smiled at him.

by **Zhol** on January 31st, 2015, 4:16 am

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Zhol fidgeted uncomfortably, feeding the lead rope gently through his hands, anything to distract himself from having to answer immediately. "I'm from Endrykas," he explained carefully, "But I'm not a Drykas. It's... complicated."

He winced, sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Being a Drykas isn't something you're born into, it's something you're chosen for. You aren't a Drykas until you're choosen by a strider and earn your windmarks." He slid his sleeves upwards, brandishing his bare arms for emphasis. "Because I never got chosen, I never was one. It's like -"

He frowned, searching for a comparison. "It's like the Drykas are all Endals. They've all been chosen, by striders instead of wind eagles. But there are no Chiet or Avora. If you're too young to be chosen, no one cares; but if you're like me, and you reach maturity without a strider ever wanting you, it's like being a Dek. You're nothing. Less than nothing." He let out a small laugh. "That's why this is all so strange to me. Being an Avora. People treating me as if my skills matter. I feel like I'm living a lie, like at any moment someone could show up and tell me that they've realised their mistake; take everything away, and send me to be with the drudges where I belong."

He shook his head, finally managing to steer his eyes away from the ground, tentatively meeting Dru's violet gaze. "I guess that's why I don't like the way that some Inarta treat the lower castes, and why I end up treating everyone the same. I'm used to thinking the whole city is higher status than me; bit of a tough mentality to break."

He mustered a small smile, brushing his hand gently down the side of Solo's neck, rewarding him for his good behaviour. "You really want to know more about Endrykas though, huh? I don't even know where to start. I'll tell you what, though -"

He turned, and gestured around the riding cave, his hand tracing out the perimeter of the track, where a noticeable groove had been stomped in the stand by trotting and cantering hooves. "This is how people first learn to ride: in a big loop around this cave. You can see where everyone has been. I'm going to keep hold of this rope, but loosely; telling Solo where to go, guiding him around the curves at either end, is all going to be up to you. And for as long as you stay in that saddle, and as long as Solo keeps moving, I'll answer absolutely any question you have, about absolutely anything."

He flashed Drusilla a grin. "Deal?"

by **Drusilla** on February 8th, 2015, 1:11 am

"Ride Solo in circles? Fine, Verda. My questions should be simple enough, what warrants a braid or a Windmark? What braid did you have? Last just explain life in the pavilion, just basic stuff outsiders might not know. I just want to understand things."

With her intentions stated, Drusilla nudged Solo into moving with her feet. Solo slowly began to move forward. She waited for Zhol's answers. Drusilla gave Solo a tap every so often. After a few circles, Drusilla found herself temped to push what she was doing. She gave Solo a nudge again and he slowly picked up a bit of speed, this was a little better. Slightly more exciting. She tapped Solo around the loop a few more times. Still, Drusilla wanted a little more from Solo. Another nudge was given.

Drusilla grinned, Solo was going at a trot and finally she found taking the loops fun. Now if she had one of those bity things that fit her arms she would of pushed it a little more. However she was sure she was terrifying Zhol with her antics on Solo. However she was enjoying herself. Perhaps, Solo wasn't so scary... Maybe Solo was an exception to the horses he seemed nice.

by **Zhol** on February 12th, 2015, 4:34 pm

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At first Zhol remained close, keeping the lead rope short to provide the illusion of control; but as Drusilla began to gain confidence, and as Solo began to pick up speed, he fed the rope out further and further, until eventually he was little more than a slowly ambling axis around which Dru and Solo orbited. Her boldness earned her a proud grin from her verda; from timid and unsure to budding equestrian in less time than it took to eat a meal.

"Windmarks are simple," Zhol began to explain as she rode. "You earn them as soon as you're chosen by a strider. It's a status symbol really, and everyone's are different. Dinah's were dark blue, and like waves of water -" He trailed off in the middle of that thought, staring down at the bare skin on his arm, flexing his fingers into and out of a fist. "When my res flows under my skin, when I use my reimancy, it looks the way that I always imagined my windmarks would be."

That thought lingered on his mind for a few moments, silence gracing his tongue. It was an old thought, an old sadness, one that for the most part had left him at peace of late. Still, there were times when it ate at him; times when his bare arm reminded him of how little he had meant back in Endrykas, and how much of a fraud he felt being considered differently here in Wind Reach.

He shuffled those thoughts aside, staring at the rope in his hands, the braided weave of the hemp gripped in his fingers. "Braids are more complicated. It's less about there being specific rules, and more about personal choices, and the events and people in your life that you feel are important enough to be carried around with you. Some people weave ribbons or beads or ornaments into their hair, each one representing a specific time or a specific person. They seem like a sign of status, because the more braids you have, the more events and people you must have in your life that are worth remembering. I guess you just know the right amount to have? You can always tell if someone is wearing more braids than they deserve too; it's like an overdressed merchant, trying to show off how wealthy he is."

Another pang of sadness, accompanied by a tight feeling around Zhol's throat; the horse boy's empty hand scrubbed up through his short-cropped hair, a faint echo of memory recalling how it had felt before his head had been so bare. "My braids were really simple; I was too unimportant to have many accomplishments to commemorate. I had a lot of loved ones though, a lot of family, and so I had a braid for each of them; a small token so that I could carry my family with me wherever I went. That was why my father cut off my braids before he sent me away from the city: he didn't just cut off the part of me that made it seem like I belonged in Endrykas; he cut off my family, because I didn't deserve for them to be always with me anymore."

His shoulders sagged at that, but he refused to let the memory bury him; refused to let all that sadness come cascading back down on him again. They were gone, yes, sliced away, left behind; but Drusilla wasn't, and Khara wasn't. What was it that Drusilla called them - her web? The people in her life were woven together by bonds of friendship into an intricate spider-like web; and while it was a metaphor that made sense for a Symenestra, it resonated with Zhol as well. The Endrykas knew about webs too; their webbing connected their entire people together, it meant safety and security, and everything within the web was home. Pavilions could break or burn, but webs? Those could be strong; those could endure; and Zhol liked the idea of thinking about his new family that way.

"You know what the worst part about living in a pavilion is?" The thought came from nowhere, a sudden surge of optimism bursting it's way into his voice; a sudden shift from heartfelt revelations to the voice of someone happy to be talking, and happy with who he was talking to. "Sex. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with it -" How would you know? a disparaging thought added, "- and having babies is really important to the Drykas, but I get embarrassed being at the baths here if there's anyone around to see me. Once you've got more than a few men in a pavilion, with society breathing down their necks to put as many children in as many of their wives as possible?"

He exaggerated a shudder at the thought of it. "It gets to the point where you can't ask the family to step outside for a few minutes every time that happpens, and it's not as if pavilions have rooms, or walls, or doors. If you're lucky, you get a screen or a curtain for a little privacy, but that does nothing for the sound. Laying awake to a chorus of grunts and groans from your father and mother and brothers?" He shook his head. "Believe me, it is not a great recipe for a restful night's sleep."

by **Drusilla** on February 14th, 2015, 1:45 pm

Drusilla continued her circles around Zhol listening to what he had to say and thinking of new questions to ask. "And what does the res look like? Under your skin? What if a person's Strider is killed or dies? Do they lose status? Are they shunned?" She tried to make the last questions sound as harmless as she could, but that innocence was fake. If she ever found Zhol's father she knew what word she'd call his horse...dinner. However, she would never come straight out and tell her Verda that...

The more Drusilla heard of Zhol's father the more she wished to kill him over her own sister and step-mother. She could not think of a strong enough word to portray her dislike for this man. Hate seemed much too soft and subtle. If given the chance in this life or in the next she would make this man's life hell. She change her thoughts to something better. "My hair, I want a braid. Can you entwine beads in it? I have specific colors of beads as well. Is.. that possible? Can you do that Verda?"

Drusilla gave Zhol a look of utter confusion, ".....Sex?...." Had she heard him right? Sadly she had. If there were words the Symenestra could ever unhear Zhol's explanation would of been those words. The mental picture... was now burned into her mind. She couldn't find words, all she could do is stare at Zhol with the look of utter horror on her face. Even Solo had sensed her uneasiness and came to a stop. The horse looked at her, she looked back at him mouth agape.

Finally the Spider found her voice, "I-I think I need a bath just from hearing that! I feel all gross and icky!" She shuddered. "I guess I just got used to the baths. I spent all my teenage years here so... I get self-conscious, but just because I look so different than humans..." She gave Solo a tap and he started up again slowly.

by **Zhol** on February 18th, 2015, 3:22 am

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Drusilla's reaction to that revelation was priceless, and brought a broad grin to Zhol's face; or at least it did, until Dru's discomfort extended on a little too long to have been the kind of exaggerated reaction he'd read it with. His stomach squirmed as she mentioned the baths, his expression fading completely. She had been so confident and unfazed when they had met at the Dreaming Lady; that Drusilla shared his discomfort around the baths hadn't even registered in his mind, and to know that it was because she was too conscious about being different -

Zhol's stomach sank; he focused his attention on Drusilla's questions, hoping to push past the uncomfortable silence that he had caused. He struggled to find an answer for some of them. His res looked like, well, res? It looked how it looked; it was like trying to describe water, or the sky. "It looks like ink, I suppose?" he explained, awkwardly, "Like a tattoo, shifting beneath my skin."

It felt like a pitiful answer, but it was the best he could muster. Usually, he was too busy concentrating on his casting to scrutinise it in too much detail; he'd have to ask Khara how she would describe it, if he remembered. Questions about Endrykas though? They were far easier to answer, even if they were strangely morbid. "If a Drykas loses their strider, they can be chosen by another. It doesn't change your status, though if it takes a long time before a new strider chooses you, people might get suspicious and start to talk. Definitely not shunned, though. Once you earn your windmarks you are a Drykas, and unless you get exiled -"

His voice trailed off; it was obvious why. His expression faltered slightly, but with a struggle he managed to assert a small smile. "And yes, I can fix your hair for you. I had five sisters back in Endrykas, of course I know how to handle braids and beads."

Another silence fell for a moment, one word echoing in his mind. Had. When had his family back in Endrykas become a past tense? When had they become irredeemably gone? When had it stopped being have? He wasn't sure what was worse; the fact that he'd let his mind fall into that habit, or the fact that as wrong as it sounded in his head, it rang uncomfortably true in his heart.

Still, while five sisters may have been in his past, there was still one in his present. He almost didn't respond to what she'd said, but the words crawled up the back of his throat and leapt of his tongue anyway. "You don't look different to me, Dru," he said quietly, still slowly turning to keep pace with Drusilla's orbits. "All I see is my sister, and she's just as beautiful as anyone else I know."

by **Drusilla** on February 19th, 2015, 8:56 am

Drusilla laughed, "I assumed it looked like ink... But what does the ink make? What symbols and patterns?" She chuckled to herself and shook her head. She gave Solo a nudge, "Come now, let's go see Verda. You must be tired of wandering in circles by now anyway."

"You call it exile, coming here. Being here. But to those you have met and made friends with it is less exile and more the gift of some god or goddess... A blessing, if you will. Your blood kin, will realize that. It may take time, but they will come to see what they threw away..." She halted Solo beside Zhol.

"Symenestra families have only three offspring or four if there is a set of twins.. A family that large... seems confusing. With the different mothers and such. A male Symenestra only sires three time before becoming infertile. Family is all about blood line. If I lived in Kalinor still, I'd of been wed to someone of just as strong blood." Drusilla wasn't sure what she was getting at. Only that it felt like this needed to be shared for reasons unknown to her.

A sad smile took her face, "Because you know me Verda. You don't see me the way strangers see me. They see something less than human. They see different and different is scary to them. I... can hide my arms and everything else beneath my clothes. It is only fully nude that I become aware of my different body. It's funny come spring I'll have been trying to masquerade as a human for twelve years, and yet I am just as unhuman as the day I arrived here. I can pretend to be human day in and day out, but that doesn't make me human." It was only when she had accepted that fact that she felt she had grown. Azira of all people came to her mind, "Azira once told me, Maybe you have to be one race or another at some stage and this time around you had to be a Symenestra. If you'd done something wrong then you'd be a monster this time around but you aren't. You didn't agree with being one, turned against it."

Closed All the Pretty Horses (Drusilla)