.
Zhol's hand fidgeted with the parcel of beads he'd tucked into his pocket. They were the ones Khara wanted, he hoped; the ones that she had been looking at when they'd passed the stall earlier, the same sort of fiery gold that she had told him about on their trip to the Lakes, knowledge that he had engraved into his mind as too important to forget. He'd circled back to the stall and bought them, part of his intentionally slowed return to where he had abandoned Khara. His earlier anxiety, at the prospect of having left her when she might need him, had morphed into a fresh anxiety of how she might feel if he rushed back too quickly. Yes, he was constantly worried for her safety; but if he didn't keep his distance long enough, what if she took it as meaning he didn't have faith in her, or as meaning he didn't think she could look after herself? That was the dilemma he wrestled with now, as he forced himself to browse the wares of yet another stall, to make the return trip just a few chimes longer.
The stall he'd ended up at had another incomprehensibly Nari name on the sign, but if he had to guess, it was probably called Outdoor Things. Zhol recognised the winter boots and the katinu that the hunters and game scouts used at this time of year. There were ropes, and tools, and things - not as fancy a selection as there had been over at the blacksmith stalls, mind you - as well as bedrolls, fire starters, camping equipment; Zhol had half a mind to buy an Inartan tent, just out of sheer curiosity.
He knew what he was looking for, though - or at least, he had a decent idea. There was something Khara had said one time; something she had alluded to occasionally; her belief at how disappointed her mother was that Khara had been a scout, not a huntress. That was how Khara lived her life: burdened by that belief of disappointment, her resigned acceptance that she was as inferior as Wind Reach told her she was. Whether or not she had been incapable of becoming a huntress while she was a Yasi, Zhol couldn't possibly know; but her trips with Azira, that moose, her slowly rising prestige amongst the scouts? Even if it was true then, that didn't mean it was true now, and it didn't mean it would be true forever. Khara was so resigned to her position though, so sadly accepting of her place in the grand scheme of things that she'd lost all will to try.
Zhol would change that; or at least, he'd tried to. That was the reason for the twenty-five pinions he had just counted into the merchant's palm; that was the reason for the toolkit, the vital supplies that every hunter needed, that the merchant was currently wrapping and marking with delivery instructions for Zhol's room in the commons. Yes, it wasn't something that a mere game scout needed; but it was something Khara wanted - or at least, it represented something that Khara wanted to be, and if it managed to nudge her towards a little more faith and confidence in herself, all the better.
He thanked the merchant in broken Nari, before turning back into the market crowd, hand fiddling with the contents of his pocket again. Had this been long enough? Had he given Khara the space she needed and deserved? He certainly hoped so. He couldn't bear to make himself stay away any longer.
Zhol's hand fidgeted with the parcel of beads he'd tucked into his pocket. They were the ones Khara wanted, he hoped; the ones that she had been looking at when they'd passed the stall earlier, the same sort of fiery gold that she had told him about on their trip to the Lakes, knowledge that he had engraved into his mind as too important to forget. He'd circled back to the stall and bought them, part of his intentionally slowed return to where he had abandoned Khara. His earlier anxiety, at the prospect of having left her when she might need him, had morphed into a fresh anxiety of how she might feel if he rushed back too quickly. Yes, he was constantly worried for her safety; but if he didn't keep his distance long enough, what if she took it as meaning he didn't have faith in her, or as meaning he didn't think she could look after herself? That was the dilemma he wrestled with now, as he forced himself to browse the wares of yet another stall, to make the return trip just a few chimes longer.
The stall he'd ended up at had another incomprehensibly Nari name on the sign, but if he had to guess, it was probably called Outdoor Things. Zhol recognised the winter boots and the katinu that the hunters and game scouts used at this time of year. There were ropes, and tools, and things - not as fancy a selection as there had been over at the blacksmith stalls, mind you - as well as bedrolls, fire starters, camping equipment; Zhol had half a mind to buy an Inartan tent, just out of sheer curiosity.
He knew what he was looking for, though - or at least, he had a decent idea. There was something Khara had said one time; something she had alluded to occasionally; her belief at how disappointed her mother was that Khara had been a scout, not a huntress. That was how Khara lived her life: burdened by that belief of disappointment, her resigned acceptance that she was as inferior as Wind Reach told her she was. Whether or not she had been incapable of becoming a huntress while she was a Yasi, Zhol couldn't possibly know; but her trips with Azira, that moose, her slowly rising prestige amongst the scouts? Even if it was true then, that didn't mean it was true now, and it didn't mean it would be true forever. Khara was so resigned to her position though, so sadly accepting of her place in the grand scheme of things that she'd lost all will to try.
Zhol would change that; or at least, he'd tried to. That was the reason for the twenty-five pinions he had just counted into the merchant's palm; that was the reason for the toolkit, the vital supplies that every hunter needed, that the merchant was currently wrapping and marking with delivery instructions for Zhol's room in the commons. Yes, it wasn't something that a mere game scout needed; but it was something Khara wanted - or at least, it represented something that Khara wanted to be, and if it managed to nudge her towards a little more faith and confidence in herself, all the better.
He thanked the merchant in broken Nari, before turning back into the market crowd, hand fiddling with the contents of his pocket again. Had this been long enough? Had he given Khara the space she needed and deserved? He certainly hoped so. He couldn't bear to make himself stay away any longer.
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
...
This template was made by Khara. She has failed this city, and will soon be visited by a sexy man in a hood.
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
...
This template was made by Khara. She has failed this city, and will soon be visited by a sexy man in a hood.