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..19th Spring, 515
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..19th Spring, 515
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Though it had been more than a year since he first arrived, Zhol was still struggling to become accustomed to the pace at which things happened in Wind Reach. To the Inarta, it was a rush, a scramble, to prepare themselves for the next Winter; to take advantage of the warm weather the instant it arrived. For Zhol though it felt the opposite. In Endrykas the whole city had uprooted and moved frequently, circling it's way around Cyphrus, chasing the seasons from one end of the Sea of Grass to the other. Spring had dawned five days ago, and yet Wind Reach still waited, the snow still too thick for the residents of Thunder Bay to begin migrating back to their coastal homes, the hunters waiting for the herds to migrate back to their summer grounds; Wind Reach couldn't spring into action until Spring had sprung itself.
Zhol had experienced Spring in Wind Reach before of course, but this year was different. Last year, the city had been licking it's wounds after the famine and the riots. Last year it had been strange, and different, and lonely, and uncomfortable. This year, he was just as much a coiled spring as everyone else in the city. He knew what was meant to happen, and he was eager to be a part of it; eager to get the jump on welcoming in the new year, and to experience it with Khara at his side. He didn't know what life would be like for the two of them during warmer times; didn't know how Khara's long days in the wilderness would change the time that they were together; but he was excited for it. Last year, he had waited and watched at the stables each night, for just a glimpse of Khara, his feelings kept secret, desperately hoping that she'd return in time for them to share a rare meal together. This year, he would wait and watch just the same, but when he saw her walking up the Sanikas Road there wouldn't be anything to stop him from sweeping her into his arms, and refusing to let her go until the next sunrise.
He smiled to himself as Solo made his cautious way down the frosty roadway. Today, she had work and he did not; Zhol hadn't quite understood what it was she was doing, but it had sounded like something to do with game trails, and memories of the time she'd let him tag along on one of her work days reminded him of how important such things were. He definitely missed her, the way that he always did when they were apart, but things were different now; that ache paled into significance beside the warm glow of realising that when she returned to the city, when she came home, she was coming home to him. No more nights alone was what they'd said; and a night with Khara in his arms was one hell of a motivator to help you make it through the day.
Zhol pulled back gently on Solo's reins, using his legs as well to steer the horse off the snow-covered road and onto the snow-covered trail that led the rest of the way to the Greco Hut. Zhol hadn't visited the cabin since the Fall; he hadn't been sure if Archeron had even been there during the Winter, though he hoped not. A welcoming coil of smoke rising from the kitchen chimney assured Zhol that he was there now, though; he picked up the pace, Solo's hooves crunching against the frost-petrified blades of grass, and squelching into the snow-sodden mud beneath. As he approached the familiar tree where he'd hitched his horse before, he vaulted effortlessly from the saddle, his nose wrinkling at the creak of squashed snow beneath his boots. His chilled fingers fumbled with the rope, securing Solo to the tree; more fumbling, with buckles this time, and he liberated a blanket from the horse's saddlebags, slinging it over Solo's body, covering as much of him as possible. Part of him wondered if he should start a small fire, something to keep his equine friend warm, but he decided against it; after all, Solo was an Inartan, born and bred, and was far less sensitive to the cold than Zhol was.
"Bet you get that from your mother," he speculated aloud, with a friendly pat of his hand against the side of Solo's neck. "Stay put. I won't be too long, friend."
The last few paces, from the tree to the door, were the worst. Zhol didn't know how the Inarta did it, tolerating the harsh north the way that they did; it took every ounce of willpower he could muster not to draw upon his djed and wreath his hands in reimantic fire. As he shuffled through the door and into the inviting warmth, for a brief moment his body sighed in relief, before the familiar ache of his frosty extremities being warmed by the air began to punish him for allowing himself to become so cold.
It took a few moments more for Zhol to begin paying proper attention to his surroundings; to his surprise, there were more familiar faces in the Greco Hut than he'd expected. The dour-faced Archeron was there of course, and his always-friendly wife Marlene; but so to was Sira, the kelvic Endal he'd met and fought beside a season a go. Various thoughts and memories flashed through his mind; in particular, an uninvited vision of the unannounced nudity that preceded her transformation into a wind eagle loitered in his mind, and if his face weren't already burning from the cold it surely would have started now from sheer embarrassment.
"Sira," he greeted, with a bow of his head, an unexpected wave of nervousness creeping through him. Sira wasn't the only Endal he'd ever met, but she was part of a very small number, and while working in the stables spared him from encountering his social betters all that often, it also meant that he'd never really been in a position to learn how to interact with them. Was he supposed to bow? Was there some sign of respect he was meant to be doing? Was this feeling how Khara felt all of the time? "I am nice seeing -"
He wrestled his anxiety into an imaginary box, and shoved it deep into the corner of his mind, fighting the urge to grimace at his appalling Nari. Why had he even tried speaking it at all? What was the point of trying to be respectful by speaking her native language when you couldn't even manage to string a single sentence together.
"It is nice to see you again," he finished, switching into common instead. His mind fumbled around for something else to say. Are you well? Did you have a good flight? Did you come inside as a wind eagle, or did you get transform into a naked person outside in the cold, and have to get dressed in the snow?
"I didn't realise you trained here. Should I -" He gestured over his shoulder, wondering if this was his opportunity to flee before he embarrassed himself too badly. "- come back later, and leave you to practice in private?"
Though it had been more than a year since he first arrived, Zhol was still struggling to become accustomed to the pace at which things happened in Wind Reach. To the Inarta, it was a rush, a scramble, to prepare themselves for the next Winter; to take advantage of the warm weather the instant it arrived. For Zhol though it felt the opposite. In Endrykas the whole city had uprooted and moved frequently, circling it's way around Cyphrus, chasing the seasons from one end of the Sea of Grass to the other. Spring had dawned five days ago, and yet Wind Reach still waited, the snow still too thick for the residents of Thunder Bay to begin migrating back to their coastal homes, the hunters waiting for the herds to migrate back to their summer grounds; Wind Reach couldn't spring into action until Spring had sprung itself.
Zhol had experienced Spring in Wind Reach before of course, but this year was different. Last year, the city had been licking it's wounds after the famine and the riots. Last year it had been strange, and different, and lonely, and uncomfortable. This year, he was just as much a coiled spring as everyone else in the city. He knew what was meant to happen, and he was eager to be a part of it; eager to get the jump on welcoming in the new year, and to experience it with Khara at his side. He didn't know what life would be like for the two of them during warmer times; didn't know how Khara's long days in the wilderness would change the time that they were together; but he was excited for it. Last year, he had waited and watched at the stables each night, for just a glimpse of Khara, his feelings kept secret, desperately hoping that she'd return in time for them to share a rare meal together. This year, he would wait and watch just the same, but when he saw her walking up the Sanikas Road there wouldn't be anything to stop him from sweeping her into his arms, and refusing to let her go until the next sunrise.
He smiled to himself as Solo made his cautious way down the frosty roadway. Today, she had work and he did not; Zhol hadn't quite understood what it was she was doing, but it had sounded like something to do with game trails, and memories of the time she'd let him tag along on one of her work days reminded him of how important such things were. He definitely missed her, the way that he always did when they were apart, but things were different now; that ache paled into significance beside the warm glow of realising that when she returned to the city, when she came home, she was coming home to him. No more nights alone was what they'd said; and a night with Khara in his arms was one hell of a motivator to help you make it through the day.
Zhol pulled back gently on Solo's reins, using his legs as well to steer the horse off the snow-covered road and onto the snow-covered trail that led the rest of the way to the Greco Hut. Zhol hadn't visited the cabin since the Fall; he hadn't been sure if Archeron had even been there during the Winter, though he hoped not. A welcoming coil of smoke rising from the kitchen chimney assured Zhol that he was there now, though; he picked up the pace, Solo's hooves crunching against the frost-petrified blades of grass, and squelching into the snow-sodden mud beneath. As he approached the familiar tree where he'd hitched his horse before, he vaulted effortlessly from the saddle, his nose wrinkling at the creak of squashed snow beneath his boots. His chilled fingers fumbled with the rope, securing Solo to the tree; more fumbling, with buckles this time, and he liberated a blanket from the horse's saddlebags, slinging it over Solo's body, covering as much of him as possible. Part of him wondered if he should start a small fire, something to keep his equine friend warm, but he decided against it; after all, Solo was an Inartan, born and bred, and was far less sensitive to the cold than Zhol was.
"Bet you get that from your mother," he speculated aloud, with a friendly pat of his hand against the side of Solo's neck. "Stay put. I won't be too long, friend."
The last few paces, from the tree to the door, were the worst. Zhol didn't know how the Inarta did it, tolerating the harsh north the way that they did; it took every ounce of willpower he could muster not to draw upon his djed and wreath his hands in reimantic fire. As he shuffled through the door and into the inviting warmth, for a brief moment his body sighed in relief, before the familiar ache of his frosty extremities being warmed by the air began to punish him for allowing himself to become so cold.
It took a few moments more for Zhol to begin paying proper attention to his surroundings; to his surprise, there were more familiar faces in the Greco Hut than he'd expected. The dour-faced Archeron was there of course, and his always-friendly wife Marlene; but so to was Sira, the kelvic Endal he'd met and fought beside a season a go. Various thoughts and memories flashed through his mind; in particular, an uninvited vision of the unannounced nudity that preceded her transformation into a wind eagle loitered in his mind, and if his face weren't already burning from the cold it surely would have started now from sheer embarrassment.
"Sira," he greeted, with a bow of his head, an unexpected wave of nervousness creeping through him. Sira wasn't the only Endal he'd ever met, but she was part of a very small number, and while working in the stables spared him from encountering his social betters all that often, it also meant that he'd never really been in a position to learn how to interact with them. Was he supposed to bow? Was there some sign of respect he was meant to be doing? Was this feeling how Khara felt all of the time? "I am nice seeing -"
He wrestled his anxiety into an imaginary box, and shoved it deep into the corner of his mind, fighting the urge to grimace at his appalling Nari. Why had he even tried speaking it at all? What was the point of trying to be respectful by speaking her native language when you couldn't even manage to string a single sentence together.
"It is nice to see you again," he finished, switching into common instead. His mind fumbled around for something else to say. Are you well? Did you have a good flight? Did you come inside as a wind eagle, or did you get transform into a naked person outside in the cold, and have to get dressed in the snow?
"I didn't realise you trained here. Should I -" He gestured over his shoulder, wondering if this was his opportunity to flee before he embarrassed himself too badly. "- come back later, and leave you to practice in private?"
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
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This template was made by Khara, the letter Q, and the numbers 87 and 13.