Closed A Familiar Face

[Kamilla]

2nd of Winter, 519AV

Kamilla was in a good mood, perhaps even a great one, though there was no one reason behind it. Her twenty seventh birthday was fast approaching and, for once, the mage felt as if she'd be spending it in a place she wanted to be and with people she wanted to be around… Jehu came to mind. Her Zith friend had returned to his handsome Chaktawe form, but unlike her, wasn't capable of switching back and forth between the two. She still had no idea what had happened to make her the special case, was it the magic coursing through her veins that had caused the reaction? She had high doubts about that theory, but had no other ideas besides simply having gotten lucky.

It was unusual, while taking on a completely different form for an entire season wasn't the most normal thing to experience, having two forms instead of one which she could switch between at will, like a kelvic, was something else entirely. Having the Konti form be a part of her only intensified the desire she'd had to learn more about the beautiful aquatic race the season before. But, where in Fall she'd simply reasoned that it wasn't too important a goal since she was only going to be stuck in the form for a season, spending the rest of her life with the form in mind was not so easily ignored.

The Konti form itself was at least one of the reasons she was in such a good mood. Throughout the Fall season, Kamilla had been acutely aware of the one thing she'd miss about her Konti form… her aquatic abilities, and now that it didn't seem to be going anywhere, she felt extremely lucky and relieved. Swims in the ocean had become an almost daily occurrence, perhaps even a hobby, either way it was something she really enjoyed.

Currently, Kamilla could be found at the bottom of the sea floor nearby Syka's beach, after her ordeal with a massive shark and two fish creatures the season prior, the Konti had learned to stick close to the shore as well as to stay away from the open water, sticking closely to the sea bed instead.

Each day Kamilla found herself exploring more and more of the waters surrounding Syka, she'd taken to exploring further and further north each day, though there wasn't much room left to explore now, if she wished to stay within a swimming sprint's distance of Syka itself.

She'd been so absorbed in observing the vast array of beautiful and preferably harmless sea life, in search of a fish that resembled the drawing her gran had left her with before she'd died. Unfortunately, so far she'd had no luck.

Glancing up, Kamilla felt her heart jump slightly in her chest, the bright blue of the sky beyond the ocean surface had already been replaced by a deep orange hue that indicated that night was not a long way off. Something the Konti was not willing to risk spending beneath the waves, and so she quickly made her way back towards the beach, surfacing with a breath of relief.

As she made her way onto the very thin line of dry beach sand, Kamilla realised that she had traveled a lot further north than she'd thought. It was surprising how different distance traveled felt on land in comparison to underwater. She could have sworn she'd only traveled a few strokes worth of distance, yet when she looked south along the beach, her bag was nowhere in sight.

With a slight sigh, Kamilla tuned and began making her way South along the narrow beach.

627

[Laira Wells]

02 Winter 519

Laira wiped a few beads of sweat off her brow, having finally finished her share of beach cleanup after the previous night’s party as payment for her stay at the guest’s quarters. There wasn’t that much to do in the section she was allotted, largely neglected cups and even a few suspiciously abandoned articles of clothing, yet Laira was mostly a stranger to this type of manual labour and as a result felt more accomplished upon its completion. Furthermore, to most, the task would have taken at most a bell or so, but for a newcomer like herself, who was obviously unfamiliar with the landscape and layout, Laira had found it was almost nightfall when she was done.

Returning to the open cabana she had spent the night in, Laira reached up into the grid-like structure of the thatched roof and retrieved her bag, which she had carefully secured out of common view by tying the straps to one of the supporting branches. Though Laira was repeatedly assured by many different sources that the residents of Syka were trustworthy and honest, she refused to be convinced out of her precautionary ways, and would rather she overkill the safety of her possessions rather than overlook it.

As she got her bag back down, a crumpled piece of paper lightly soiled with age and disregard alike loosened itself from the confines of the bag and fluttered nearly to her feet before succumbing to the breeze and landing a few metres over. As soon as she realized it had escaped her control, Laira quickly dropped her things and chased after the note. As she did so, her shirt got caught on a rough edge of one of the cabana’s pillars, effectively tearing a good portion of the side open. With a frustrated growl, her hand instinctively reached to feel the skin exposed by the semi-jagged rip through the shirt’s fabric, which was roughly half a metre lengthwise.

Declaring herself unharmed, Laira swiftly picked up the paper, and her eyes darted around like hunted prey for any witnesses before returning to the cabana. As she stuffed the piece of paper back into her back, it unfolded slightly to reveal the first few words of it’s text.

“If you ever see this...”

Laira didn’t pay any mind to the letter once it was back in her bag, and instead pulled out her cloak. Despite already being overheated, Laira wasn’t going to be caught dead with her shirt in tatters, especially which the potential to reveal anything remotely intimate underneath. Donning the cloak dreadfully, Laira remembered that she met a seamstress the night before. Of course! she thought, grateful she wouldn’t have to suffer wearing a cloak in a tropical climate for long, I’ll see if she’s around.

After her somewhat challenging experience with the simple party cleanup, Laira had fortunately mostly gathered her bearings in terms of the layout of from the Tidepool Bar to the dock. Beyond that, she would probably be dead meat, so Laira decided it was in her best interest to search for the seamstress in the area she was most familiar with.

After asking a few passing residents strolling along the shore about Kam’s whereabouts, Laira finally got a helpful response when she walked by the Communal Kitchens and ran into a woman who introduced herself as “Nesra”.

Her face, hands, and even forearms smudged with grey, half-dried clay, Nesra had responded to her inquiry with, “Kam? I don’t think I’ve seen her around...” After a pause, however, she said, “Oh right, I remember her from last night’s party. I think I saw her out in the water right over there,” Nesra cocked her head in the direction of the ocean beside them, “but I haven’t laid eyes on her since. Check up the beach, she might’ve swam over to check up on that little patch of coral there.”

Nesra wished her good luck and Laira went on her way, beginning to pant under the oppressive warmth of her cloak despite the waning sunlight. It was a good thing no one had chosen to pry, as Laira was barren with ways to explain herself, but such luck wouldn’t last for long if she couldn’t find the seamstress. At last, a figure emerged in Laira’s distant field of vision, the edges of her silhouette sharpened by the light behind her. As she grew closer, Laira saw with immense relief that the figure was indeed Kam. Gripping her backpack as if it would bestow her with strength, Laira felt her knees grow weak as the fever-like sensation zapped her energy.

Ultimately, at a mere 20 metres away Laira felt her legs give way, stumbling until her eventual topple into the sand, braced only by her hands at the last moment. Her face flush with heat and embarrassment alike, Laira exhaled sharply and tried to get back up, though found her mind was too muddled and dazed to effectively orient herself. It seemed as though her torn shirt wasn’t the only problem with Laira.

[Kamilla]

Still surprised by how far she'd ventured unintentionally, Kamilla strolled along the thin strip of what could be loosely defined as 'beach'. It amazed her, how different Syka and it's tropical environment was in comparison to anywhere else she'd been. The jungle ruled the land, in some place growing all the way up to the edge of where the sea meets the land and leaving only a meter or two for the transitional space. With this in mind, Kamilla realised that she would need to make a more conscious effort to learn to better survive within the dense over and undergrowth if she was going to remain in Syka. She'd already made a few unintentional trips into its borders and had brushes with death each and every time.

Still casually making her way southward along the beach, Kamilla was pleaded to finally spot her bag, scooping it up before stepping onto the Cobbled Pathway that lead all the way across the settlement and towards her home which was located south of Treasure Point. The pathway made travel convenient, especially when it came to transporting goods. It may have come as a surprise to some, but Kamilla was well aware of how exhausting long walks across a sandy terrain could be.

As she neared the City Core, Kamilla looked up to see a cloaked figure straddling the narrow road, causing a frown to appear on her face, an expression not so suited to her delicate Konti features. Of course her first thought was thief or brigands or any other word suited to those with ill intent. Syka had never been privy to crime, at least not as long as she'd been there. The community was too small and close-knit to allow for such a person, so if this cloaked figure was indeed up to no good, she deduced that they would have to be one of the newcomers that had arrived on one of the two ships a day earlier. Regarded of who it was, anyone trying to commit any crimes in Syka had to have been quite the idiot to think they could go undiscovered for long.

With her djed always at the ready, Kamilla did not so much as miss a step as she continued onward and toward the fool in the cloak. She was not scared, not at all, rather annoyed at the thought of crime in her home, though she was aware that it could simply have been someone who had inexplicably chosen to don a thick cloak in the Sykan heat. Of course, such a decision would make little sense unless the person had good reason to do so, not unlike her own insistence on wearing thigh high leather boots wherever she went while wearing her original form. Thankfully, her current Konti form required no such thing and she enjoyed getting to experience the feeling of Syka's sand beneath her feet.

Lavender eyes still trained on the unidentified figure, Kamilla unable to discern any of the person's features thanks to the lighting created by the setting sun. She continued onward, not wanting to make any assumptions but keeping her djed fluid and ready to react at a moment's notice.

The two of them kept drawing nearer, seemingly walking toward eachother until they were no more than twenty steps apart, when suddenly, the cloaked figure collapsed, falling onto its hand and knees in the sand. Unperturbed by this newest development, Kamilla did not alter her pace, eventually arriving at the prostrate figure in the sand. Hands went to her hips as she came to a halt in front of what she now recognised as the familiar stranger that she'd met, briefly, the day before.

"Are you okay? You're that newcomer… I'm sorry your name seems to have slipped my mind."

Lavender eyes ran over the women's cloaked figure noting the damp hair and skin glistening with sweat, unsurprising considering the thick winter attire the woman had chosen to wear. "Here…" she began, reaching into her bag and offering the woman her waterskin. "I'm sure you have your reasons… but do you mind me asking why you're dressed so… inappropriately?" She made no other moves to assist, simply waiting for the woman to respond and regain her composure.

720

[Laira Wells]

02 Winter 519

Laira took short breaths, feeling utterly suffocated by her misguided clothing choices. It was then her thoughts turned to the caged animals she would sometimes see in the Sunberth markets, longing for unachievable freedom, or forest game caught in barbed traps, all too aware of their own demise. Luckily, Laira was distracted from her increasingly dark thoughts by a stern voice above her.

"Are you okay? You're that newcomer… I'm sorry your name seems to have slipped my mind."

Clearly not, she mentally responded, though she wouldn’t dare ruin a chance for aid by actually saying it. Looking up with a small squint, her hair clinging to the sides of her face, Laira realized the akimbo stranger was not in fact a stranger at all, but rather the seamstress she had almost reached shortly before.

“Here…”

As Kam reached into her bag, Laira’s eyes widened and she willed her weak body backwards in fear of violence, but before she could overreact the Konti pulled out a waterskin. She ogled it for momentarily before snatching it quickly and beginning to drink with fervor. Tilting her head back to increase it’s flow, Laira felt water escape her lips and dribble down her chin, cooling her neck somewhat as it cascaded down.

"I'm sure you have your reasons… but do you mind me asking why you're dressed so… inappropriately?" Laira couldn’t decide whether Kam was being impatient or simply cautious, but the one thing she knew for sure was that if she didn’t choose her next words carefully, Laira would be out of luck for a fixed shirt. The idea of spending anything longer in this prison of outerwear made her swoon with dread.

After a few more satisfied gulps, Laira had successfully emptied the waterskin and held it out to Kam to return it. She could feel the lukewarm water work it’s way down within her, a welcome sensation in her condition. Feeling more composed already, Laira conjured the strength to sit up with her legs folded underneath her and said, “I know must look crazy, but I was over by the Commons when my shirt got caught- fabric good for shyke as far as I’m concerned- and just…” Laira mimed a tearing motion, followed by an irritated scowl. Pulling the cloak up to reveal the ripped shirt, she appealed to Kam. “Could you help me?”

Laira felt her face growing visibly red as she bared even the smallest bit of herself to the seamstress, though this time it was less from overheating and more so from an unpleasant cocktail of embarrassment and inhibition. She felt a rare sense of vulnerability, and it made her restless. After another beat or two, Laira decided she had given Kam a sufficient appraisal of her shirt’s damages and finally felt able to return to her feet. Removing the cloak and letting it fall to her feet, Laira stood with her arms crossed over the tear, clearly on guard. Something about the woman’s energy gave her the inclination she should be, though then again nearly everyone’s did, so Kam wasn’t necessarily special.

[Kamilla]

Kamilla watched and witnessed several emotions pass over the newcomer's face before the dazed woman finally accepted the offered water skin, quickly gulping it's contents down in a desperate attempt to rehydrate her body. While Kamilla certainly understood the torture of dehydration and the need to fix it, especially since she'd lived as a semi aquatic Konti for an entire season, she had yet to receive an answer as to why the newcomer had seemingly chosen death by dehydration simply by donning such inappropriate attire.

In the back of her mind, while she waited for the newcomer to empty the contents of her waterskin, Kamilla wondered what the desert must be like. After all, she was part Chaktawe, that made the desert part of her heritage, 8right? Regardless, she would endeavor to ask Jehu for a detailed description of his homeland. In her own mind, lacking any actual experience, Kamilla imagined the desert to be similar to the beach of Syka, without any ocean or jungle, though even she doubted the accuracy of that assumption.

Eventually the newcomer did return the, now empty,waterskin which Kamilla took, holding it behind her back for a moment as her concentration was slightly divided. Finally the newcomer seemed to regain her humanity, moving into a more comfortable sitting position and explaining the events that lead up to her almost dying of heat and thirst.

"And you didn't have anything else to try on but a thick winter cloak?..." She paused for a brief moment, realising she didn't need to hear the answer, "Nevermind, yes I can help… but for now have some more water if you want…" She added, revealing the waterskin from behind and offering the container full of icy cool water to the newcomer for a second time.

Whether the woman took the waterskin or not, Kamilla would then lower herself into a crouching position, reaching into her bag for a second time until she felt a familiar solid object and pulled at it, revealing a small metal rod that looked as if it were weaved from spiderweb.

The Konti watched as the strangely familiar woman finally got to her feet, seemingly mustering up enough courage to bare the miniscule amount of skin revealed by the tear, almost nothing in comparison to Kamilla's own revealing attire. The sight of the woman's highly uncomfortable state made Kamilla feel uneasy by extention and so, with a loud sigh, she made a decision. "I don't usually do this but…" With a wave of the wand, Kamilla watched as the torn fabric of the shirt mended itself, as if it were a fast healing wound. "Now you can at least follow me back to my home without wrapping yourself up in that crazy coat again. Follow me…"

It would be a long walk to Kamilla's cliffside home, which was located on the complete opposite end of the settlement, somewhat outside of it actually. "Remind me again, what was your name? And where again are you from?"

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