*
*
*
Wikus seemed content to move by the window, transferring the ink and admiring it. Kiva was anxious to see his reaction, as she was not a skilled artist by any means, and as she reached to the wall to lift one of Kavala's lanterns that hung there, she lead it back to their work in the center of the room.
Locating the lantern was easy enough, finding a way to light it... that proved a bit more challenging. First, the woman rummaged around her backpack, then, she lowered herself, looking under the bed. Finally, she bent at the waist and lifted the mattress, snatching up a bundle of matches she had hidden there. As she was about to strike the match, Wikus looked up at her with a grin.
"What does word mean?"
Kiva looked at him from the corner of her eyes and noticed her simple picture must have come to life. And it was bleeding. She quirked an eyebrow, intrigued by the story told and she whispered the word in her native tongue, the sound flowing like music to her; yet so foreign to him.
The match hissed and puffed as it came to life, smoke rising as she lit the lantern. Soft light illuminated the room, casting sjadows aong the walls and on the bones of her face. As if sharing a secret, Kiva smirked once more and stared at him from across the room, "Conqueror."
With a sharp exhale of air, she blew out the match and tossed its remains to the ground. They were nearly done with their magic lesson, and she went to retrieve the black blade from the table, turning it over in her hand as she moved deliberately to where their work lay. Lowering herself back to the ground, she looked up at the tattooed man.
"Think of the bird. Of it in the air, trying to fly. Leaping. Think of it clearly. Think only of this."
Kiva tried to remember what her mentor had taught her so very long ago. Imagine it's power. It's being. Feel it. Kiva closed her eyes, then very lightly brought the blade's edge across the inside of left palm. She took a slow inhale as the hot pain slide through her skin. The very images she spoke of, she conjured in her mind. A running hen, fluttering wings; airborne, and a desperate attempt to keep the leap going. She looked at Wikus, "We bleed onto the circles when they are on the bone. Then we see if it works. If the-"
What was the word her father used? D...D.. Djed. If the Djed transfers. Closing her palm to keep the blood from leaking, she tried to find the words. She did not know the word for djed in Common, "If the magic goes into it."
Eyeing him, she went to hold out the blade for him, but hesitated, caution lighting up her eyes. She stared at him for a long moment, then the weapon and with a silent warning, reluctantly held her sword out to him.
*
*
Wikus seemed content to move by the window, transferring the ink and admiring it. Kiva was anxious to see his reaction, as she was not a skilled artist by any means, and as she reached to the wall to lift one of Kavala's lanterns that hung there, she lead it back to their work in the center of the room.
Locating the lantern was easy enough, finding a way to light it... that proved a bit more challenging. First, the woman rummaged around her backpack, then, she lowered herself, looking under the bed. Finally, she bent at the waist and lifted the mattress, snatching up a bundle of matches she had hidden there. As she was about to strike the match, Wikus looked up at her with a grin.
"What does word mean?"
Kiva looked at him from the corner of her eyes and noticed her simple picture must have come to life. And it was bleeding. She quirked an eyebrow, intrigued by the story told and she whispered the word in her native tongue, the sound flowing like music to her; yet so foreign to him.
The match hissed and puffed as it came to life, smoke rising as she lit the lantern. Soft light illuminated the room, casting sjadows aong the walls and on the bones of her face. As if sharing a secret, Kiva smirked once more and stared at him from across the room, "Conqueror."
With a sharp exhale of air, she blew out the match and tossed its remains to the ground. They were nearly done with their magic lesson, and she went to retrieve the black blade from the table, turning it over in her hand as she moved deliberately to where their work lay. Lowering herself back to the ground, she looked up at the tattooed man.
"Think of the bird. Of it in the air, trying to fly. Leaping. Think of it clearly. Think only of this."
Kiva tried to remember what her mentor had taught her so very long ago. Imagine it's power. It's being. Feel it. Kiva closed her eyes, then very lightly brought the blade's edge across the inside of left palm. She took a slow inhale as the hot pain slide through her skin. The very images she spoke of, she conjured in her mind. A running hen, fluttering wings; airborne, and a desperate attempt to keep the leap going. She looked at Wikus, "We bleed onto the circles when they are on the bone. Then we see if it works. If the-"
What was the word her father used? D...D.. Djed. If the Djed transfers. Closing her palm to keep the blood from leaking, she tried to find the words. She did not know the word for djed in Common, "If the magic goes into it."
Eyeing him, she went to hold out the blade for him, but hesitated, caution lighting up her eyes. She stared at him for a long moment, then the weapon and with a silent warning, reluctantly held her sword out to him.