Closed Pack Up

[Sloane]

Thank the gods. Sloane thought as Hansel came into view, her eye's brightening and posture perking, chasing away the tendrils of sleepiness that had begun to creep as the sun had set. She cast an assessing gaze over him, her worry and anxiety evaporating once it was clear that he was perfectly well and unharmed. However, she didn't smile at him, as she had before, instead she merely regarded him with reserved relief in her eye's. She watched him, fully the hunter to make his way to his tent, her brows quirking with surprise as he passed it by, continuing forward until he stood over her. "I'm glad you're back. She murmured, head tilted back to gaze up at him as he regarded her, his scarred face unreadable.

He sat, and some of the tension left Sloane's shoulders, her gaze softening a touch. Though she ached to speak, she held her tongue, waiting and watching as Hansel gazed at the fire, holding his hands up to the flames. She almost jumped when he finally spoke, far more agreeable than he'd been earlier in the day. There was a marked difference now, the hostility had left him, the anger had simmered down, and he seemed more gathered than when Sloane had first arrived. She was glad that she'd waited, and given him the time to think and compose himself. Sloane made a mental note to find Sedon in the morning and thank him for whatever he'd done to contribute to Hansel's change of temperament.

Sloane chuckled at his words, surprised by the rare pseudo-complement, a rare commodity from the hunter. She leant back, mind milling over all the things she yearned to say, sorting through all that she wanted to tell him as she watched him light his pipe, her nose wrinkling as a tendril of acrid smoke drifted towards her. Finally a smile made it's way across her face as she watched him, soft and small, and her gaze dropped to her hands as she twisted her fingers together restlessly. "I wasn't lying. I really did miss you." She said finally, darting a look at him before returning her gaze to her hands. "I even tried to come and see you a few times, but they... I couldn't." Sloane sighed, letting her gaze settle on him fully once more. "I couldn't leave the pavilion. Not even to work."

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

He decided to keep his yap shut this time, and bloody well stick to it. Fortunately, Sloane made it easier for him. No combative words that baited him so easily; no questions that were snapped out and just begging to be answered with scorn. No... Konrad stared into the fire, marveling at them, the way they never flickered the same way twice, and listened as the words seemed to come from the very light before him.

"I wasn't lying. I really did miss you. I even tried to come and see you a few times, but they... I couldn't."

Konrad winced involuntarily at that last word: reacting to the potent, nameless grief even if he couldn't grasp the feelings behind it. He'd never had a child, as far as he knew. What whore would want Venger for a father to their kid, after all? Never much wanted one, either. In his line of work, they were a distraction at best and a weakness at worst; just another means for your enemies to hurt you. If you let them hurt you through them, anyway.

So best not to have them, not to care, not to even entertain the notion. But he knew he was the minority, and women especially, they loved children. For the most part. Sneaking a glance at Sloane, seeing the liquid stare in her eyes... he felt that twinge again.

They took her kid, he thought, putting it in terms he could understand. She didn't sell or or barter it. She wanted to keep it and they stole it from her.

"Savages."

He doubted she or anyone listening would understand the word... but contempt is universal. At that moment, Konrad didn't care. He'd killed children. Because they were in the way or part of the contract, and he couldn't bring himself to feel false guilt over faces he barely remembered. But he never stole a babe from it's mum's arms, and told her it was for the best.

Some thing even monsters balked at.

"I couldn't leave the pavilion. Not even to work."

"Stupid of 'em," he finally said, happy to be moving on from... that. He poked at the fire with a stick, hands eager for something to do. "Yer noda' weaklin'. You coulda' been up an' helpin'. But they wuz 'fraid you'd run. Den when they knew y'wouldn't, they cast ye out anyway."

Again her snorted, even sharper, violently disintegrating a charred log with a quick thrust. He was even gripping the stick like a sword.

"Now they've a mouth t'feed but it cannae work, an' we have someone who..." Konrad closed his eyes and frowned, as if watching himself from the outside. Nice job, you bloody idiot. "... didn't mean t'mention yer... well, y'know..."

Still, the word "sorry" eluded him. Not only that, but his awkwardness broke the spell of his confidence around her. Reminded him that this life, his persona, it wasn't him. He could wear it, but not become it. No matter what he thought. He got to his feet and flicked the stick into the fire, to burn like all the others.

"Practice your Pavi," he said, leading by example, and nodding quickly to her. "I will see you tomorrow... Sloane."

He turned and left, vanishing into his tent with his head clear but still abuzz. He bedded down and tried to remember the last time he'd ever called her by her name. He listened to distant calls from predator and prey, and wondered why that felt important to him. That he'd called her by her name, not just girl or love or woman.

Konrad finally shrugged the thoughts away. They kept him from sleep, which he found once he rolled over and got comfortable. He listened to the fire crackle outside, and thought of the small, slight woman crouched in front of it. Warm and strong and back in his life.

He slept well.

[Sloane]

"Yes, must." She sighed, knowing full well that she was learning the language far slower than she should have been. She struggled with the coordination of words and signs, and that coupled with her isolation from all but the Firelash pavilion resulted in a limited vocabulary for one that had been exposed to a language for such a long time. "Goodnight. Sleep good." Sloane watched Hansel go, and after a long quiet moment, she rose as well, slowly making her way to her own tent. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and she all but fell into her bedroll, fully clothed, with only enough energy to toe off her boots and kick them to the other side of the tent. She rubbed her face into her blanket, going over the afternoons events in her mind, if only to keep it from wandering to other things. Rolling over, Sloane wrapped the blanket tightly around herself, and fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

~ ~ ~

Sloane woke slowly the next morning, twisting and turning on her bedroll as she drifted in and out of awareness. Outside of her tent she could clearly hear the pavilion coming to life; men and women calling out to one another, horses snorting and nickering, children laughing and shouting. Sloane groaned, kicking off her blanket before she was tempted to pull it over her head, and rolled onto her back, scrubbing roughly at her eye's as she willed herself to get up. She reached for her waterskin as she pushed herself into a seated position, taking a small swig to clear the stale taste from her mouth.

She wasn't particularly eager to start the day, really she would have been totally content to spend her time hidden away in her tent, avoiding the curious stares and whispered rumours of those around her. The Ankal might come back too. She thought with a grumble, standing and tugging at her twisted clothes. She didn't want to be fussed over, and Yacob unnerved her; he was too kind and welcoming, Sloane felt as though she was left waiting for the other shoe to drop and the man's expectations and intentions to make themselves clear.

Clothes set aright, Sloane shoved her feet into her boots, wobbling on the spot as she attempted to tame her hair, messy and sleep mussed. Sloane cursed as she dragged her fingers through knots, doing her best to wrestle the locks into a braid. Hands still occupied with the work she shouldered her way out of her tent, mostly ready to deal with the morning.

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

He didn't plan it, and he didn't have to lie to himself about that, later in the day. What needed to be said had been, and Konrad had put the night to bed along with himself. A new day was coming, and he needed to be ready for it. Life in Endrykas was hard, and didn't care if you weren't prepared, or didn't feel like working. The Drykas were more welcoming than he'd ever heard, but it was conditional.

You worked. You contributed. You pulled your weight. If you didn't, even the Pridesun had no place for you. He'd heard about those scarce, rare outcasts. Hadn't met any, and there was the rub.

They don't last long.

He awoke to Syna glowing behind the fabric of his tent, or at least the promise of her. Strange, how a man's body regimented itself. Get up enough times before dawn, and soon you won't need to have someone wake you. Your body just kicks into gear and bang, up you get.

Unlike the woman, his routine was easier. He pulled on his shirt, tied up his hair into a ragged ponytail, and let his first swallow of water turn into a splash over his face as he held the waterskin over his head. Wasteful? Maybe, considering the continuing drought, and, like every morning, Konrad cursed that useless bitch Morwen for it. But did it work? Oh, indeed it did.

He shook his head dry like an animal and around him, the Pridesuns were already lurching into another busy day. Sedon was up before any of them, fire already lit, food laid out. Dashiel was scampering around him, casting looks over at Konrad, wondering when he'd leave to check his traps. The hunters and fletchers, cooks and skinners, weavers and sewers, all of them were crawling from their yurts or tents.

"Mornin', yeh big sod."

Yeh Bugger snuffled softly as Konrad patted his flank, nodding as if in greeting. The walahk checked his feet, one after another, just like that Stormblood woman had shown him the last season. He perused each hoof and once he was satisfied there were no stones or shards embedded within, he threw his saddle over the back of the beast.

Snickers and stares, as always. No yvas? A barbarian saddle instead? Such a savage. Konrad snorted softly and ignored them all. They weren't nearly as judgmental when his wyrd came into play, and he filled their waterskins like a rain god.

Careful, now, he reminded himself as he swung him up to mount his gelding. Don't need to start thinking like that. Gods are mostly wankers. You're just an arsehole.

It was hardly a tasteful motto, but it stopped him from overgiving. Then he wheeled the horse around, already picking out the places he'd left his snares the previous night-

-and there she was. Ducking out of her tent, looking annoyingly attractive even chimes after waking. Her hands were busy marshaling a raven's nest of hair, eyes casting about for something to do. Fletching. That was what she was good at, or so he remembered. Did she still have her job at that business? He'd have to ask.

Why? Why do you have to ask?

Konrad ignored the question, and kept watching. He didn't have to wait long before she caught his eye. With a low click of his tongue and a swish of his reins, he spurred Yeh Bugger towards her.

"What do you have to do?" He'd told her to practice the language of the Horse Lords, and he was leading by example. Nothing so infuriating or futile as being surrounded by people you didn't understand, and vice versa. "Your chores, I mean? If you have none, you can help me with my traps."

Konrad blinked. Ran over the last few ticks. Yes, he... had done that. It wasn't some strange dream or drugged blurting. He was sober and sharp and just invited the woman to come join him. Hardly for dinner and a mummer's display, but still... it made him shake his head as if to shoo away a fly.

Gods. She's doing it to you again, already.

[Sloane]

Sensing anothers gaze, Sloane glanced around, catching sight of Hansel atop his horse, seemingly ready to leave the pavilion for the day. She raised a hand from her hair to wave, smiling when he urged his horse towards her, pleased that he was even acknowledging her after their rocky reunion the day before. She wasn't surprised when he forwent any greeting, but her brows did raise as he skipped straight to inviting her to join him.

"Always thing to do." Sloane began, speaking slowly as she tied off the braid with a thin scrap of leather. She eyed Hansel thoughtfully, lips twitching with a smirk. "But can wait. I go with you." She was moving before he could change his mind, stooping to snatch up the strap of her backpack, her quiver and her bow and glancing around in search of Heroka. "Wait, I get horse." She called as she turned on her heel, making her way over to where the mare was grazing, scooping up the yvas on her way past it. Heroka was a good horse, calm and agreeable, to the point that Sloane sometimes thought that the mare could sense her lack of skill in the yvas and purposely took it easy on her rider. She raised her head as Sloane approached her, blinking slowly as the woman lifted the yvas over her back, and waiting patiently for the human to get the buckles secured.

It took Sloane a moment longer than she'd have liked, but soon enough she'd gotten the job done, and she scratched Heroka's nose in thanks for her patience. Mounting up, Sloane guided her horse around and back over to join Hansel, her hands light on the reins and her knees and legs doing the majority of the work, just as the Drykas had taught her. She was still slightly unsteady, and far from confident, but she was helped a great deal by a combination of determination and a patient steed. She fell into place beside Hansel, following in a trot as they made their way out of Endrykas and into the plains. "Sleep good?" She asked, for little more than to break the silence as she glanced over at him. Her mind wandered to their task for the morning,
trapping. Sloane had very little experience with the subject. "What type of traps?" She asked, speaking slowly and carefully.
the Pavi felt strange in her mouth, the words oddly pronounced and heavily accented, and not a sin to be seen. Still, Sloane was rather proud that she'd even managed an understandable sentence. "My Pavi not bad, see?

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

"Sleep good?"

Konrad nodded at the question, but it was still early enough for even the word "sleep" to draw a creaky yawn from him. For years he'd operated on the schedule of awaking late in the day, when the grog and herbs and powders had dissipated enough for his body to function again. Living as he did by the swing of his sword, early mornings were less of an issue for him.

No longer the case, since he'd come to Endrykas. No feuding gang lords here, no petty territorial disputes, just a city of Drykas all working and striving, mostly together. And that meant taking every bell the day gave you.

"Good as I could hope for. It is different, waking up without a hangover every bloody morning."

The city receded sharply once they were past the outlying tents and pavilions and rude animal enclosures, all of it designed to be sturdy and dependable but able to be knocked down and moved on within chimes. The rough thoroughfares vanished and soon the two riders were clip-clopping through the grasslands. Men and creatures moved lightly through them, doing much the same as Konrad intended. Every morning was the same, and monotonous as it was, Konrad's grumbling belly informed him the toil was necessary.

"Aye, they are snares," Konrad replied to her question, Pavi horribly accented but oddly precise, as it would be from a man who'd not had the time to learn it as slang since he was a child. "I only have two, but they are enough."

The grassland broke into a little clearing, and the two of them looked down to see... a snare roughly disturbed and missing its bait... but otherwise empty. The sellsword grumbled something profane and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

"Most of the time, they are. But I am better with a sword and a pair of metal knuckles than a piece of bloody wire."

He dismounted and handed the reins to Sloane, the simple gesture of trust coming so easily to him he only realized he'd done it when he'd bent down to examine his trap. The girl, she... he frowned as his mind couldn't quite find the words for it, and was happy his hunched shoulders and crouched form hid his frowning face.

This ain't Sunberth, he reminded himself straightening up the dirt and leaves around the wire, concealing it while he added another little pile of grain from his pocket to serve as a lure. Not every wanker is trying to screw you over or run off with your shyke. You've learned that.

Aye, but that ain't all, is it?

"My Pavi not bad, see?"

The smile he gave her was proof enough of his thoughts. He didn't dole them out like sweetcakes, after all. Didn't much care for enthusiasm or small talk, either. Most times all he'd give anyone would be a grunt or a shrug or something mumbled by way of reply. But for Sloane, there was a smile, and he turned to face her as he got back up.

"Getting better, it is. It has to. Bloody annoying, living in a place where know one knows your words. Next one is this way..."

He was far from an experienced trapper, but Konrad had learned the right distance to place his traps. Not so far that traveling between each was a slog, not to close that the commotion from one would scare of anything the other might entrap. It was a few chimes of tramping through the grass before they got near to it and-

Konrad put up a hand. Woman and horses stopped... but something was still flapping around in there. Konrad frowned, and decided that was the right word. Those were wings, feathers beating against the vegetation. Not taking his eyes off the curtain of grass, he unsheathed his kukri and made a little "follow me" gesture with his raised hand.

It was a ground owl. A little lower than his knee when it stood up straight, a circle of devastation carved into the earth as the snare around its foot had kept it trapped in that place all night. It was exhausted, panting, feathery chest heaving as it looked up at them with animal terror.

Konrad shifted his grip on his weapon, and decided to end this quickly. No point drawing it out, after all. It was just an animal, for one, and for another...

Something else for you to natter to her about, a bitter, mocking little voice piped up in his head. That you're now a pious petching man.

He ignored it. Focused on approaching, one careful step at a time, kukri held tight to his side, ready for the killing blow. His other was outstretched, and with every yard he got lower to the ground... getting closer... ready for it to-

-burst into shrieks and flaps, finally able to attack the creature that had ruined it's blood-soaked leg and crippled it-

-but Konrad was ready, having repeated this dance a few times before, hand reaching out to grab the own around the throat, wings beating and bruising his bare arms and making him wince until-

Quick, before it gets those talons into you.

The kukri stabbed out like a silver serpent's tongue. Konrad rose as he throttled the creature, wire of the snare going tight, preventing the little raptor from raking its talons against his arm. It mewled one last time before the kukri buried in its skinny chest, and Konrad twisted the blade out of brawler's instinct.

Raging and whirling, to limp and departed, in a single tick. Konrad withdrew his blade and Sloane fancied she heard a few whispered words pass his lips. Maybe even the name of a goddess... out where they were, the only goddess that mattered, in fact.

"You learn to pluck a bird, too?" He said, tossing up the half-eviscerated game as a grisly joke, chuckling as she scrambled to catch it. "I hope so. That is breakfast."

He trusted her to carry it back, while he returned to the snare. He'd worked it loose from the talon of the owl, but still had to clean off the blood and reset it. Endrykas would move on tomorrow, so he had one more day of trapping to get out of it. Once he was done spreading around leaves and stalks to cover his work, Konrad turned back to Yeh Bugger, patting his snout fondly.

How different I must look, he thought, and it was his own mind that spoke the words. Not any grousing, angry shade from his doubts, nor cold, tactical advice from his killer's sensibilities. Skin darker, full beard, more meat on my bones... less anger in my eyes.

Still have the scars, though. They're never going away.

"What have you to do this morning?" He said after they'd started making their way back. He tried ti simplify his Pavi as much as he could, realizing the insanity in the two of them sticking to a language alien to them, even alone, but he had been right before. Practice made perfect, and they both needed it. She just needed it more. "You still make arrows, yes? I think woman in the pavilion does arrows. Maybe work with her."

Syna was burning away the dew and the night with it. Morning was coming into full, yawning life around them. Konrad picked up the pace. There was no hint of Morwen to be found, even as the year advanced towards the chill of Winter. He didn't want to be caught out in the open when the full, baking fury of that fiery orb started lashing the grasslands proper.

Yacob was waiting for them. And he wasn't alone. But if Sloane was surprised or perturbed at the welcoming committee, Konrad seemed somewhere between amused and annoyed. He sighed, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I do other thing for pavilion, now," he informed her. "Thing with my wyrd."

[Sloane]

Accepting Hansel's reins, Sloane dismounted and made her way around their horses to get a good look at the first snare as he knelt by it, ensuring that it was still hidden, and baiting it once more. She returned his smile easily, well aware of how few the hunter was prone to giving. She'd missed him and the easy companionship he offered, free from expectations or agendas, nothing like what she'd been faced with by the Firelash pavilion. She handed his reins back and followed, darting pleased looks at him from the corner of her eye as they walked. When Hansel signalled for them to stop she froze, Heroka stopping short next to her and flicking her ears, as Sloane eye's automatically darted about in search of a looming threat. Instead, her attention caught on the under brush ahead of them, and the bird thrashing about amongst it.

She followed Hansel over to his prize, taking in the mess of grass, twigs and feathers that formed a near perfect circle around the bird. Sloane felt a pang of sympathy for the helplessness, pain and fear that the animal felt, and she hoped that Hansel would put it out of it's misery quickly. She followed a few steps behind as he approached it with his weapon drawn, only to yelp and jump like a frightened cat when the owl all but exploded in a sudden flurry of movement kicking up dust and feathers in a final fight. Hansel snatched it up and jabbed his blade forward quickly, putting a quick end to its struggle.

"I can pluck." She confirmed with a chuckle as she caught the bird, holding it by the feet and away from her clothing. In Syliras she'd made deals with her friends and neighbours; she would do the tedious job of plucking their chicken and pheasants, so long as she could take what feathers she wanted in return. It was a easy and inexpensive way to collect feathers for fletching, rather than trading some farmer for those he cleaned off of his coops floor. "You trade for big feathers?" Sloane began, her brow furrowing as she searched for the words, though she didn't know the Pavi for 'flight'. "The, eh-- wing feathers?" She pulled the limp birds wing out, it's flight feathers fanning out, a fair few of them still in place and undamaged.

Moving once more, Sloane concentrated half her attention on keeping herself atop her yvas, and the other half on Hansel as he spoke. She shrugged, her features taking a thoughtful tilt as she gazed across the grass plain, eyeing the tent city as they drew closer. "Maybe. First should visit Duskstep pavilion." She said finally, her brows drawing together at the thought. "Maybe they let me work still." As much as it daunted Sloane, she knew it was necessary. The Duskstep's were good people, and they had always been helpful and welcoming to Sloane when she'd worked with them before. She hoped they'd take her back, and even more than that she hoped they hadn't heard of the reason for her unexplained disappearance. The fewer to offer their judgments and condolences the better.

The sight of Yacob waiting pulled a groan of dismay from Sloane, and they young woman's shoulders slumped as she dismounted, immediately leading Heroka towards a trough, conveniently in the opposite direction to her new Ankal. She passed Hansel his bird back and smiled, the corners of her mouth tight with irritation. "Thank you for bringing me with you." She said over the back of her horse, switching back to Common now that they were amongst others. She smirked when Yacob and his companions glanced between them, clearly surprised by the change of mood between the two whalaks.

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad couldn't help but smirk as he saw Sloane's shoulders slump at the very sight of Yacob. Different though they looked, in almost every way, they shared much in common they others couldn't see. That wariness of the kind and noble seemed to be one of them.

Neither woman nor man seemed to trust it. Konrad had seen much of Yacob's altruism throughout the last season, and never seen a reason to doubt it... but those old street instincts didn't go away. Paranoia, suspicion, distrust... where he was raised, those weren't weaknesses or flaws, but necessary survival mechanisms.

Yacob and his companions shot them a few odds looks as the woman departed, but Konrad just cocked an amused eyebrow in return. He drank in their confusion and silent questions, answering none of them with a simple shrug of his shoulders, as if to say "well, out with it".

"We need your wyrd, Hansel." Yacob said, adding a completely unnecessary: "Now."

Konrad smirked again, drinking in the stiff look of authority the younger man wore in that moment. Of course it was "now". The ground was still wet from the night, when else would it be? But it wasn't a matter of urgency that prompted the word: it was simple ego. Yacob, letting the scary walahk know that the deal they'd made last season was still good, and while the bounty of his snares were for him alone, he was still at Yacob's beck and call when they needed his Reimancy.

Konrad shook his head. He'd really hoped the boy had been different. Just for the sake of variety.

"I will be there in a few chimes," he said as he pointed Yeh Bugger towards his tent. "Need to tie my horse and drop off my food."

"I said-"

"I heard what you said," Konrad spoke over his shoulder, much like Sloane had moments before. "Your Now is not my Now. But you will get your water, all the same."

Don't stop moving. That was the key. You stopped, you turned, you slowed down for even a moment, and they thought they were the ones in control. But that wasn't the case. Konrad kept clip-clopping away, leaving Yacob and his friends to glare impotently at his back. He didn't need to antagonize them... but the de facto Pridesun ankal didn't need to crack his whip, either.

The deal had been made, and Konrad was sticking to it. If Yacob felt the need to be a cunny about it, Konrad would be one right back.

A promised handful of chimes later, Konrad was striding back to where he'd left them, flexing his arms and hands and squinting a touch as Syna started to boil over the horizon. "Boil" being the operative word, and now he could understand Yacob's urgency.

Still no need to be a cunny about it.

"Get your people ready," he said to the air as he planted his feet at the edge of the Pridesun enclosure, looking out into the dew-smeared grassland beyond it. "Tell them to be quick."

Yacob nodded and rapped out commands. Men and women dashed out ahead of them, rubber tarps and buckets and cooking bowls and anything else that could hold water in their arms. Konrad watched as they Drykas scuttled and prepared ahead of him, making two rough lines maybe twenty feet apart, creating a square just as long.

Twenty by twenty, he thought with a soft smile, closing his eyes. That'll be a new record, I think.

Yacob didn't speak again when the walahk closed his eyes. He'd learned better, over the season. The man was still and silent under his hat, breathing slowly... and slower... until he seemed barely alive... until his hands rose...

Glowing.

Come.

The ankal swallowed as Hansel's hands began to pulsate with power, then that pulsing was alive, moving, spreading and oozing into the air like liquid gas. It seemed to smear across the air like oil across water, green and black and thick like tentacles. More and more of it, moving out into the square the Drykas had created.

Now... together.

Konrad's hands turned, palms facing each other... and the tendrils of res joined above the ground. A ball of it, almost as long as his body, was soon pulsing and swimming above the ground, dancing like a moss-and-pitch-colored amoeba in the morning light. Konrad swallowed hard. That was the easy part. Now came the purpose.

Now... rise.

The ground trembled, ever so slightly. You'd have to be looking for it to notice, but the Drykas were. Something was moving under the ground. Lurching into life, rising to the surface... and a few ticks later, Konrad could hear gasps and muttering... telling him that what he'd sought was being accomplished.

He peered into his being, and felt his flesh and will were still solid, like beams holding up a structure. He didn't need to worry about losing control. Not yet, anyway. So he opened his eyes-

-and saw the water coming out of the ground. Drop and dribbles and splatters and orbs of the stuff. Turning the chalky dirt to mud as gravity seemed to reverse itself and the liquid bubbled up instead of sinking down... and it didn't stop there.

There was a dry, raspy sound, ironic considering the watery tricks being played by the man laughing. Konrad smiled, as the water began to float upwards towards his writhing mass of res.

"Tell them to be ready," he said quietly, wanting the disjointed globs of water as high as he could manage before Yacob's people swooped in under them. "Won't be long now..."

[Konrad Venger]

They don't need to be told twice; barely need to be told after all. People can't just get used to anything if they do it often enough: if it's important, their bodies will slide into action without the words. And there, at that time and in that place, fresh water with a hint of dirt was about as important as things could get.

Yacob snapped off orders in Pavi, jabbed his finger into the air, but Konrad could see scuttling figures already getting into position. Stooped low, clutching their receptacles, eyes cast upward at the queer sight of water just... hanging there. Brownish and filthy and smelly but sweet, blessed liquid all the same.

Can't afford to be picky. Not these days.

All they needed was time, but it was purchased by Konrad's sweat. Every inch the twirling tendrils rose, he felt a pulse ripple through him, growing in strength each time. Like gentle waves, lapping, growing, to become a tidal wave on some distant shore... only it wasn't so distant. Or so far in the future. The walahk breathed in and closed his eyes.

Control. That was the key. Realizing this was all his power, his will, and his body. That had always been his. Ever since he'd made a red ruin of the older boy who'd tried to make him meat, a quarter century and half a world ago. Konrad Venger decided his own fate, and took his own pain... and made it into something useful.

He opened his eyes and sweat stung them. The ball was still growing, but much slower. Water flailed and stretched towards it from the ground, and a dozen muttering figures were stooped under it. The old ladies chattered as they spread out the rubber mat between them, and Konrad decided-

SNAP

-enough was enough.

It rained, for an instant, and only on that sad fraction of the Sea of Grass. His hands dropped like guillotines, slapping hard into his sides, dust puffing off him as he did so. Before the echo had even faded, the shimmering tentacles of liquid had fallen. Drykas laughed and jabbered as they were splashed; pots and buckets gurgled and tittered as they were filled. The rubber mat made a strange sound, Konrad thought. Like giant fingers drumming a frantic beat against it, only each note added weight, so much the old ladies had to strain with their bounty.

"That should see us through the day."

Konrad grunted at Yacob's gloomy words. He understood them, of course, and wasn't about to argue, but some prideful part of him expected a little more...

What, exactly? Wide-eyed thanks? Shocked amazement? Stop being a child. You're set a task, and you accomplished it. But water don't last forever.

"We do early hours tomorrow," he said, flexing his shoulders and letting the motion roll down into his arms. They were numb from effort, prickling with djed exertion. "Less time for Syna to burn water on the ground. More water for us. Less effort for me."

Yacob raised an amused eyebrow. It was an odd look for such a sober, serious young man.

"Thought you wanted the practice?"

"I do," Konrad said, taking an offered cup and swilling the water around. It was warm and gritty and damn, it tasted like ambrosia to a man with a thirst. "But not so bad it kill me."

"Point taken."

He took another mouthful and turned away from the frenzy of folk collecting and distributing their water for the day. That's how long it would last, but he knew without asking that, as the man who had drawn it from the ground, he'd be getting his. For his skin, for his horse, for a stew pot if he needed it... but probably not enough for a bath. That was every three or four days, and everyone shared that water.

Pretty sure they use it in the stew afterwards, too.

A tangle of blonde hair bobbed beyond them. A busy young woman with much to do in her new home. Konrad flexed again and his shoulders creaked, sending shafts of pain trickling down his back. Later he would help her. But for now, well... practice and sparring of any kind weren't really complete until you did the part that followed after.

Rest, he thought as he lurched back into his tent. Morning will come again faster than you think.

[J'Ak]

G R A D E



S L O A N E

xp

Socialization +2
Rhetoric +3
Endurance +2
Planning +1
Observation +2
Riding: Horse +1
Negotiation +1

lores

Sloane: Joins the Pridesuns
Endurance: Readjusting one's expectations
Planning: Staying put is sometimes the better plan
Sloane & Konrad: A tumultuous reunion
Endurance: Waiting it out
Yacob: Unnervingly welcoming
Heroka: Calm & agreeably natured
Negotiation: Trading skills for resources


rewards

+ 6 Owl feathers

K O N R A D

xp

Rhetoric +3
Logic +1
Horsemanship +1
Riding: Horse +1
Trapping +1
Weapon: Kukri +1
Reimancy +1

lores

Logic: Piecing together true motives behind insults
Trust begets betrayal, love begets hurt
Endrykas locaton: Baultime's Barrel
Pavi sounds gruffer than Common
Haigen: Succumbed to fever
Sedon: A brave friend
Konrad & Sloane: A tumultuous reunion
Sloane: Her child was taken from her

rewards

+ 1 Owl carcass

N O T E S

Agh! Think my heart just broke a little when Konrad denied missing Sloane too. Enjoyable thread, as always guys.

Don't forget to deduct living expenses for Fall 516AV from your ledgers! You may also want to check out this announcement & arrange your skills lists accordingly.

If you feel I missed anything let me know via PM!
Don't forget to edit your grade request here,