Flashback Short breaks (Yomilla)

[Karsynwa]

8th of Spring, 515 A.V.

In the wake of Winter came the rains. Makutsi was generous this year. For the first several days of Spring the clouds poured out their bounty, filling the Bluevein River until it was close to bursting its banks. Today was the first it had shown signs of letting up, and even still it was a steady drizzle.

While that was far from ideal, their work could not wait any longer. To delay further meant certain failure. So when the sun was just starting to settle into the morning sky they left the city through the land gate. On foot the journey was far from smooth. The rains had flooded many of the usual paths, forcing them deeper into it along the coast as they sought a break into the sea. Additionally the mud sucked at the soles of their boots which made the trek all the more miserable in this constant rain.

It was hard to hear anything besides the patter on the hood of his brown cloak. Visibility was equally dismal as dark clouds had replaced the sun turning the sky grey, and plunging the land into a soft shadow. For that reason Karsynwa followed Arrel closely, his fingertips lightly touching the back of the man's cloak as they tried to make a trail through the grass. They were both dressed similarly. Simple brown cloaks with studded leather armor worn underneath, and large backpacks that were packed tight. The only difference was that Karsynwa wore a black leather harness to carry his Lakan while Arrel wore one on the left side of his hip.

Arrel was also carrying a bow, its string carefully tucked into a waterproofed quiver that he carried on his back underneath the cloak. Karsynwa thought it was a little optimistic of him to hope for game in these conditions but he did not feel like it was his place to point that out at this moment. Instead he followed along as was his duty.

Occasionally his eyes flitted over to the infrared spectrum though he spotted nothing of interest. There was only the grass, the rain, and the mud. Plenty of that to see as it worked its way up his legs. Already he could feel the dampness seeping through his cloak an armor. It made his skin feel clammy while the armor started to pinch his skin with his movements.

They stopped moving. Rather, Arrel stopped which caused Karsynwa to stop as he was right behind him. His squad leader held up a hand and reading the gesture, Karsynwa kept his mouth closed as Arrel knelt close to the ground. From over the man's shoulder he could see that he was studying a patch of grass that looked recently shorn. An not by teeth either as it was a good clean line. Karsynwa's skin crawled at the thought as his inner eyelid flicked into position.

Seeing along the infrared spectrum now he looked for traces of red light, first among the patch of grass his mentor was studying and then along the stalks of grass to either side. Arrel tapped his leg before he could study the area further. Looking down, he saw his squad leader shift slightly while his hand gestured towards the ground. The impression was muddled in this sense so Karsynwa retracted the inner eyelid to look at it again. A hoof print.

"Horse" Arrel whispered softly, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully. "We might be too late. It seems a few Drykas have ranged ahead of their counterparts." Karsynwa frowned as he looked at the print, reaching down to trace the shape of it with his finger. That was unfortunate. He had been really hoping to see this herb of Arrel's but if the Drykas had truly been through this way then there was nothing they could do about it. Those men lived this land everyday of their lives. Trying to find a valuable herb they had not would be a hard bargain.

"What do we do?" Karsynwa asked after the moment had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, his mind still on the imprint. It was large, likely from one of those formidable horses he saw them riding on the occasions he'd crossed their path. Arrel sighed softly and shrugged. "We look for them. Unless the rain gets to be too much, then we turn back." The man said in a warning tone as his eyes scanned the darkening sky. Looking up along with him, Karsynwa had to agree. Those clouds looked ripe to pour, and he didn't relish the idea of trying to swim out of the sea of grass. Turning to Arrel, he offered a firm nod and stood up to follow him into the grass.

Their path was more chaotic now as they followed the tracks. Arrel had the harder task of picking them out while Karsynwa stood point, watching their back for any pursuers. Casually he kept a hand on the hilt of his Lakan as they traveled. He wasn't one to be caught unawares without a weapon in hand. Neither was Arrel for that matter as he'd strung his bow, and kept it shielded under his cloak for now.

As they traveled, their pace was a little quicker. No longer were they looking for slight signs of a flowering herb. Instead Arrel was on the recent trail of a few Drykas that had passed this way an he had a little more than that to guide them. There were only a few things they could be logically heading this way for. Riverfall, or ranging north to scout the way for their pavilion. In either case, there was a very good chance they might head them off as they straddled the line between Riverfall and the rest of the grass.

That was their hope anyways. Karsynwa had yet to have been told why tracking them down was so important. The steady rain had dampened more than just his clothes. His inclination towards curiosity had been similarly affected as his mind turned inwards. Towards yearning for the comforts of city life. A yearning which he found slightly antagonizing. He was at cross purposes here on the sea of grass. There was his duty to his squad leader to do as instructed, and then there was his initiative to further his training which made this feel like a waste of time now that their goal was seemingly out of reach.

For now, Karsynwa listened to his better self, and kept his mouth shut. He prayed to Myri that they would find their quarry soon.

WC - 1,072

[Yomila]

The sky hummed, the rain a steady percussion against the temporary shelter that housed those who weren't out in the thick of it. The Ethaefal that sat within, cross-legged and wrapped in a rain-drenched cloak, watched the activity with steady black eyes. Bodies shambled through the heavy mud. Some were packing up and readying the pavilion to move while others tended to the animals.

Everyone was miserable.

Rain was welcome. It brought life to the grass. It washed away the old and brought forth the new.

This rain, falling unbroken for days, was becoming a hazard.

Over-abundance of any one thing tipped life out of balance. Endrykas found itself struggling as it quickly became a treacherous expanse of thick mud and deep pools. Pavilions were quick to spread out and seek more solid ground, scattering further out than was normal.

The Duskriders had set out two days ago once footing became too tricky and had been tracking northward through the grass, stopping now and again to allow the more vulnerable members of the pavilion to rest under cover.

A babe cried somewhere behind her - Tahlto's daughter, barely older than the Ethaefal, herself - and it drew the Fallen back to the present. She listened to the soothing sounds that followed, the shuffle of bodies as others pressed close to help. The Fallen blinked, refocused, and tucked her chin into her wet cloak.

The sensations of this life were still so new. So loud. So unwelcome. They were raw; constant reminders she was here and not up there where she belonged.

A figure was crouched out there in the sheets of light rain and the Ethaefal's dead black eyes gravitated to the form, recognizing it. She did not recognize what it was he was doing or that the movement of his hands were intentional as he palpated the unseen weaves and wefts of the web, tapping into the information the threads provided.

Both were engrossed in what they were doing that neither noticed the other form that approached until it stood above Tyak's crouching form. It bent, and touched Tyak's shoulder.

The Ankal stilled and regarded the other figure. It was Tahlto, tall and still and rigid as always, and the two shared words unheard. Both turned their heads to the Fallen.

The Ethaefal stiffened as she felt both pairs of eyes on her, as if the very act somehow further drew her into this world and exposed her for what she was. She bristled and tried to bury herself into her cloak. Tahlto's eyes were sharp and needling, forever trying to pry her apart in his quest to know what she was. Tyak's were the opposite, his countenance gentle and soft as down feathers. There was more. Sorrow. Pain. The Ethaefal's presence a reminder of a soul that was lost to the web.

The wind turned and picked up his words. They blew in a gust so she could hear them, catching the exchange in broken snatches.

"It is --. She poses no threat."

"But --" Tahlto's protest was gripped and flung as Zulrav's might forced the rain sideways "-- trusted."

Tyak placed a hand on his eldest's calf and made a motion with his chin, hands signing his intent.

The movements were familiar. They were foreign. They tugged at something locked away in her mind.

Tahlto stared at her hard and she narrowed her eyes in kind, the silent exchange not needing words, not needing signs to be heard.

Stay clear of me. It hung for a handful of ticks, mutual, mutinous.

Something was pressed to her side and she started, jerking hard away. Her eyes rounded on whatever it was, whoever it was that had approached, uninvited, unwelcome.

"Here." It was K'walen, another of the Ankal's sons. He was tall and all limbs, awkward on the precipice of manhood, his hair a whirling dervish as the wind freed it from his own cloak. His expression burned, the Ethaefal's reaction an affront to what had been his good intentions. In his hands was another cloak and he shifted it between them.

"It's waterproofed," he ventured, a hand making the sign for 'protection' then 'warmth'.

The Ethaefal narrowed her eyes again. The signs caused something to flutter within her mind but even the simple Pavi he used was hard to process. Her mind felt sluggish processing it; like she was still trying to wake up from a dream.

"No wet?" she asked.

"No wet," he answered, holding it out once more, an offering of peace after Tahlto's nonverbal onslaught.

Her small mouth tightened into something that could be a grin or a grimace. She snaked a hand out and took the offering, swiftly exchanging one cloak for the other. In a bid to stave off the chill that had set in her bones, she wrapped the wet cloak around the waterproofed one.

There was another exchange between Tyak and Tahlto and they both focused in on the invisible djedlines. It caught K'walen's attention and he picked his way through to mud to them.

"What is it?"

"A group, not far from here," Tyak said evenly as he signed 'outsiders' 'horseless'. His attention was on Tahlto as he ordered, "Gather our best riders, we'll head out to meet them." Then, to K'walen, "You and Rulkis stay here and guard the rest with Orthos and Kiane."

K'walen made a noise of protest. Tyak ignored it, walking back to the shelter.

He dropped a hand to Yomila's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "We have to leave briefly. You are safe here." His Common was as smooth as the look he wore when regarding her was warm.

The Ethaefal also made a noise of protest. The hand on her shoulder squeezed again.

"You are safe," he repeated, holding her eyes for ticks until, at last, she gave a nod of assent.

Tyak, Tahlto and five others mounted quickly and rode off in the direction the web had told them, disappearing into the white of the light rain.

tag: Karsynwa
nanocount: 1,004
notes: The Drykas group is yours to control. I'll submit the NPC's to the HD later today and then update this with their information.

[Karsynwa]

For a people with a penchant for colorful vestments the drykas could be subtle when they wanted to. An when they came they did so swiftly. To Karsynwa it was as if they emerged from thin air. One tick the grass was quiet. The next there was the thunder of hooves drowning out everything else. At Arrel’s insistence Karsynwa kept his hands well away from his blade as the Drykas circled them warily. Arrel was the first to speak.

“Hello there friends. My name is Arrel and this is Karsynwa. We are out on business for the Kuvay’Nas militia.” Arrel said, holding up his right hand high till their attention turned to him. An gain their attention he did. The riders started gesturing to one another while speaking in a foreign tongue. Their language was alive with the songs of birds and the chirps of crickets in the grass. Karsynwa wondered for a tick about what they were saying before one of their number broke from the circle.

“Let us get out of this rain then, and you can tell us more of your reasons for being out in this weather back at our camp.” An older Drykas said in common before turning his horse around. The rest followed his lead with Arrel and Karsynwa not far behind. Their guides kept the pace gradual so it was a little over a bell when they arrived at the camp.

Karsynwa hadn’t known what to expect when they walked up, but a giant tent was certainly not among his list of expectations. There were familiar aspects to the camp though the pavilion was the most eye catching of the lot. Unfortunately he didn’t have a lot of time to look at it before they were rushed inside to get out of the rain. Inside the giant tent the air was warm from a fire burning in the center. Karsynwa was confused till he spied a smart cut in the canvas at the top that let the smoke filter out while keeping the rain out. He was wondering if all of their tents supported such a design when Arrel tapped him on the elbow.

He looked to see the Drykas handing off their cloaks to a woman, an he peeled off his own as well before stepping deeper into the tent. Inside the floor was covered in plush carpets. Here an there there where little pillows arrayed in piles. One of the Drykas took a seat on one before the rest did the same. Karsynwa and Arrel hesitated for a moment till the older man gestured towards an empty set of pillows. Karsynwa followed Arrels lead taking his seat quietly while giving the inside of the tent one more look. It looked smaller within but only because large sections were blocked off with sections of canvas with elaborate designs on them. He was just beginning to appreciate some of those designs when Arrel spoke up.

“Thank you for inviting us into your home. What may I call you friend.” Arrel asked.

“Tyak” The older Drykas spoke after he finished talking quietly with a woman at his side. Karsynwa watched as the woman swiftly departed behind one of those canvas walls, then his eyes flickered back to Tyak. He was an older sort, an possibly this was his tent so Karsynwa made sure to keep his expression respectful as he waited to be addressed.

“You two have traveled far in this storm. Any reason for the urgency?” Tyak asked, his tone friendly even if his eyes were sharp as they flicked between the two Akalaks.

“This rain has delayed much, and we were running out of time. Our young will be going out soon, an we would like to make the necessary arrangements before that happens.” Arrel said, folding his hands in his lap as he focused in on the older Drykas.

“Of course. This rain might make a fine time to hunt glassbeaks if your boys know what they are doing.” Tyak said, inclining his head slightly as he took a saucer from the woman who returned from behind the canvas wall. He took a small sip from it before passing it to the man beside him. Karsynwa watched as this repeated itself around the rough circle while Arrel continued the conversation.

“Better it gave us a break. I don’t think they’d relish having to swim for one.” Arrel said, chuckling slightly as he took the saucer passed to him carefully between his thumb and forefinger. Gingerly he tipped it back to take a small sip before he handed it over. Carefully copying his gesture, Karsynwa picked up the bowl in his hands to take a small drink. Inside the bowl was a thick white liquid, the smell of which was almost overpowering as he lifted it to his mouth. Mustering up his courage, he took a drink of the opaque liquid finding it mildly sweet and surprisingly alcoholic.

Karsynwa couldn’t help but make a face at the aftertaste of the drink and passed the bowl along to the sound of laughter from the other Drykas. When it had subsided somewhat, Arrel continued with his statement.

“I believe we are fortunate you found us however than one of them. We were almost blind in this rain.” Arrel said as he pulled off his backpack. Opening it, he carefully removed a small, ornate iron box that he set down in front of himself. “A gift for you.”

Tyak made a gesture, and the woman drifted over to pick up the box, then brought it to the older Drykas. The man studied the small box for a moment before setting it aside. He favored them both with a broad smile.

“Thank you for the gift. We are more than happy to have you with us to weather this storm.” Tyak said, and leaned to speak with the woman quietly before addressing them again. “You both of course are welcome to stay for as long as the storm lasts. Though we do not wish to impose on your mission if that is your wish.”

“Your offer is most kind. We would be happy to wait out the storm here. Thank you Tyak.” Arrel said, bowing his head slightly. Karsynwa did likewise, an afterward the slight tension to the room seemed to have been relieved with those words. The Drykas lapsed into easy conversation with one another and Tyak stood up to walk deeper into the tent beyond where Karsynwa’s eyes could follow him. Arrel was busy straightening the contents of his pack so Karsynwa’s eyes wandered elsewhere. Focusing past the small circle of Drykas to study those elaborate designs once more.

WC - 1,115

[Yomila]

Yomila's eyes drifted to the side, flickering over those nearby that still remained at the camp. They settled on Orthos, standing big and tall and bulky, and she wondered why he hadn't been part of the group that had ridden off. The man shifted, caught he gaze and then looked away, turning his attention back to the surveying what he could see of their perimeter. Like many of Tyak's pavilion, he preferred to ignore her; the act was rarely impolite or aggressive, even from others. Many had found ways to avoid her or simply acted like she wasn't there. As much as the Fallen was happy to be left alone, she found being talked about as if she wasn't present to be unnerving.

A handful of children ran by, shrieking and yelling with glee as they splashed through the puddles that had formed around the two pavilions that had yet to be broken down. A feminine voice called out after them, and like a firm hand, it steered the children back towards the smaller pavilion.

K'walen broke her quiet reverie once more, arms full of supplies. They were meant to be packing up to move again after being here long enough for the mud to become a nuisance, hoping to make some steady ground before the sun set. "Ekilida would like your help." He motioned with his cloak covered head towards the other pavilion. Yomila knew that voice had belonged to the woman and it irritated her that K'walen was being used as a go between. She suspected he had intentionally put himself into a position where he'd be needed in that way; he had developed a habit of hovering nearby. Like a horsefly. Ever-present and annoying.

Yomila gave him a long look before glancing back to Orthos. He had crouched, mimicking the movements Tyak had gone through earlier.

She glanced back to the younger Drykas and gave no indication she had heard him. She did gather her limbs beneath her and moved to straighten up, eyes turning to the smaller pavilion. She made her way towards it, breezing past K'walen as she did so.

Ekilida, Tyak's second wife, did not acknowledge her as she entered but Romea, Tyak's first wife, did, welcoming her with a smile.

"You are here?"

Noting the shift in Yomila's gaze, Romea regarded her sister-wife over her shoulder. She inclined her head in understanding once she looked back Yomila's way, as if in understanding. She motioned to some items near her that could be packed and said softly, "Be helpful to me." Her hands were occupied but they still moved into a sign despite the fact she spoke in common. Unlike Tyak, she was not as confident with the language but she saw it had been the easiest way to communicate with their guest and had taken to using it as best she could when in the Ethaefal's presence.

Yomila knelt at her side and pulled the blanket that was laid out nearby towards her, following Romea's own motions, and began collecting items to stow within it that might need some extra protection.

It had taken her longer than anticipated. She was folding the layers of the blanket over so she could roll the blanket up into a bundle when Kiane popped her head in beyond the flap. Her words were smooth but urgent, "The riders are with the group." Her words were in Pavi and Yomila failed to follow then of the sign that accompanied them, "they're bringing them back to camp. Two men." As Tahlto's first wife, she did not hold any sway with these two matriarchs, but, in this instance, her elders listened and welcomed the relay of information and instructions she passed on.

The camp instantly shifted, as if waking up after a lazy nap.

By the time the riders arrived with the newcomers, the main pavilion had been prepped and was ready to receive them. The second pavilion was a flurry of activity, youngsters having faces and hands scrubbed clean while the women uttered gentle reminders of how they should behave. Others kneeled near the central fire, busy putting together a meal in a large pot. Yomila sat at the edge of the group, crudely chopping the handful of vegetables she had been given. The more important members of the pavilion - Tyak's three wives and children - left for the main pavilion.

It wasn't until after she had finished with cutting up her chunks of vegetables and adding them to the pot that she ventured a glance out the pavilion flap. It was still grey and wet and, no matter how much she strained, the angle at which this pavilion sat kept her from being able to see the strangers. Her attention deviated as one of Tyak's daughters clucked at her and Yomila moved to pass a bowl of seasoning to her. She watched the young woman pinch some between her fingers then sprinkle it over the contents within. The smell made her stomach rumble rudely.

There came a time when she was no longer useful so she rose and made her way to the main tent. Like those before her, she shed her cloaks and then rearranged the way her braid fell over her shoulder. Her roamed the casual scene of Tyak's people mingling comfortably, of the two unknowns sitting opposite, big and a startling shade of blue, of the small bowls holding the remnants of that fermented milk drink she so hated.

Her nose crinkled.

She tried to remain as invisible as so many of those within made her feel, steps slow and careful as she picked her way to the far side where she usually slept. The flap of her space sat adjacent to one of the blue strangers and she hesitated. She felt eyes on her and turned. Tyak inclined his head and beckoned her over with a small motion of his hand. Her eyes lingered just long enough to see the sideways glance Pelin'e, the youngest of his wives seated behind and to his left, gave him.

Boldly, she dropped her gaze to the stranger that sat within arm's-length of her, studying him for a few ticks before she reluctantly did the ankal's bidding, drifting like a shadow to an empty pillow positioned well behind him. K'walen regarded her over his shoulder. She ignored him, black eyes invested in a small metal box that sat between Pelin'e and Tyak. They shifted up to then set firmly on the two.

Tyak spoke, "Let us know if you are hungry. We have a hot meal being prepared that should be ready within a bell and dry meat and cheeses to hold you over until then. I regret to say we are low on fresh meat. The storms have made it difficult to hunt and our priority has been finding better ground for our pavilion." His blue eyes flickered to his sons and then returned to Arrel, "If the weather holds tomorrow, it would be an honor to have you hunt with us. I know my sons would be fortunate to have the chance to hunt alongside two Akalaks."

Yomila stirred at the word. So that's what these men were.

tag: Karsynwa
nanocount: 1,201

[Karsynwa]

Date, Season, Year

Karsynwa followed Tyak’s eyes over his shoulder to see the young woman lingering nearby. Their eyes met for an uncomfortable moment before she moved to join the Drykas on their side of the fire. That strange look they shared sat with him for a moment as he watched her sit down. Strangely she did not lapse into warm conversation like the rest, but seemed to sit apart from the rest, even though she was nestled among them. He stared at her face for a long while, hoping to catch those dark eyes again. To see if they could tell him what the rest could not.

When he grew bored of that, his eyes roamed her dress. She evidently liked her dress looser than the rest. Her shirt seemed like it would be ready to slide off her shoulder blades if it wasn’t for a hasty stitch along the neckline. The stitch was ugly, and it was obvious no effort had been made to keep the shirt aesthetically pleasing. Just useful. A similar treatment had been given to the rest of her wardrobe which got Karsynwa wondering if she did this herself. An if so, why? Everything he knew about the Drykas seemed to lean towards close knit families with a knack for doing well for themselves out on the grass. The others reinforced this opinion in him, however she did the opposite. She did not joke lightly with the other Drykas. In fact, she seemed reluctant to sit there at all.

Karsynwa’s first thought was maybe she was aslave, though he saw no collar to support that. His next was that perhaps she had been recently orphaned and was just traveling with these people for now. That seemed far more likely even if it was much harder to prove. Not unless he wanted to ask her out right which he wouldn’t. There was no reason to insult his gracious hosts with such intrusive questions, his piqued curiosity could just petch off for now.

He tried focusing on more constructive uses of his time. Like perhaps identifying these Drykas. Their clan that is. Looking around he didn’t see much in the way of identifying symbols. They seemed to favor elaborate, naturalistic designs that reminded him of growing things. Also gold. It was a pigment they used liberally with their designs and elsewhere on the canvas walls of the pavilion. Thinking back to the names he knew of the clans, he didn’t remember any of them having gold. They all were named after stones. Stones he belatedly realized he didn’t know the colors of.

It almost drew a chuckled out of him, but he was very cognizant of his presence in the tent. He didn’t want to disturb the idle conversation that was going on. Even Arrel seemed to have found something to talk about, an was leaning in to talk with a young Drykas male at his side in that sibilant language of theirs. Karsynwa decided not to disturb them as he got up, and stepped outside to relieve himself.

While pulling on his sodden cloak was less than comfortable, neither was the pressure building in his bladder. The soft sounds of rain on canvas turned promptly into a clatter as it started drumming off his hood. Was it coming down harder now? Karsynwa could scarcely believe it, and decided not to stray far as he ventured out onto the perimeter a short ways. He found a spot where the grass had been beaten back, and munched on by the many animals they kept in their camp. There were a handful of them now huddled underneath a leanto that he could see from his spot. Strange creatures among them that he didn’t recognize.

After a few ticks when his business was finished, he made his way back. Replacing his cloak on the rack, and pointedly talking a pillow closer to where the young woman sat. Seated, he pulled his backpack to his chest, and pulled a bunch of grapes he’d kept sheltered in an iron pot within his bag. Cradling them in both hands, he eyed the young woman as he opened his mouth to speak.

“A small gift. We didn’t bring much, but this I gladly share with you. My name is Karsynwa” Karsynwa said as his eyes shifted a fraction to Tyak. With both hands extended towards the man, he made the small offering before sitting straight on his cushion.

“Thank you Karsynwa.” Tyak said simply before he turned to finish conversing with another man. It was then Karsynwa realized he had interrupted something, possibly important that he couldn’t tell exactly because of that unusual language of theirs. They always seemed to be gesturing something so it was hard to tell when they were at a lull in their conversation.

Chagrined, he turned to the young woman. “What is your name?” He asked, extending an arm in greeting.

WC- 819

[Yomila]

The Ethaefal sat in silence, brooding. It had been her custom since her fall, her expressive face doing little to hide the dissatisfaction she felt towards the formal function she was suddenly a part of. At her entire earthbound situation. This was all still new to her and she sat there, ruffled, resistant, embittered.

Fate was a curious thing; the Fallen struggled with it daily, nightly, turning the situation in her head over and over again. She had yet to fully understand or rationalize any of it, justify her undignified crash into this current cycle of time. Her thoughts would occasionally drift into wondering what she might have done to deserve such awful treatment by her God, but they were rare and fleeting. Her hubris didn't handle those thoughts well and fought them back whenever they sprouted, refusing to let them take root.

Her eyes fell lidded as the chatter around her blurred into a constant drone, her interest in the pair short-lived. Her thoughts had once more wrapped themselves around her plan to return to Leth's realm, to be reunited once more with her celestial brothers and sisters. To be welcomed back by her God. Tyak had warned her against such thoughts but the Ethaefal was stubborn; she was certain it could be done.

She just had to figure out how.

Surely there was someone wiser she could speak to. A priest or priestess of Leth, perhaps? Or others of her kind.

She recalled how shocked she had been when Tyak told her she was not the first to fall from Leth's realm. To learn there were more poor souls that had suffered the same fate. That it was not just Leth who had lost souls through the fissure in the sky, but Syna too. That others wore their divine face by day. It had not been an easy thing for the Ethaefal to accept. It had made her angry. It had made her grieve. It had made her wonder if there was some pattern to these falls, some connection that could be made between the Fallen. Surely there was an answer that could be found.

Random chance was a concept Yomila recoiled from. To her, everything had a reason. Everything was fated. Everything had a connection; you just had to follow the breadcrumbs.

One of the Akalak sat himself next to her and rudely drew her from her thoughts, his words slicing through her musings, accent so much different than the drone that enveloped her. The words and language she was slowly growing used to.

The Ethaefal's flinty black eyes followed the gift he offered the ankal, studying the odd bunch of globes. Judging by how the Akalak held them, she guessed they were delicate. Her brow and face shifted to reflect her curiosity, yet she did not ask. She was astute enough to know this was not the time to question the ankal.

She sent a sideways glance to the Akalak - to Karsynwa - at his question. She deliberated her answer, considering not giving him one at all, but she felt both K'walen and Tahlto's sharp eyes on her so she answered bluntly, "Yomila." She did not react further to his greeting, unsure how open she should be, well aware that however she approached this would be wrong in Tahlto's eyes. And was his eyes that remained on her, waiting for her to do anything that might reflect poorly on his pavilion. She met his hard gaze and lifted her chin.

The Etaefal turned her head to fully regard the blue man beside her. "Karsynwa, was it?" she asked. Then, remaining bold and resolute, "Tyak mentioned Akalak. Is that what you and Arrel are?" There were more questions in her black eyes. They swam and shimmered in the firelight, deep pools of wonder.

"I have yet to meet anyone that isn't a Drykas." There was something about her tone and wording that subtly affirmed his own guess that she was something other; that she did not belong with the rest. "Did you two become lost the the Sea?" her question was free of judgement. It was understanding. The Sea of Grass was difficult enough on clear days. Rain made it that much more dangerous.

tag: Karsynwa
nanocount: 710

[/quote]

[Karsynwa]

Karsynwa wrinkled his nose at her stiff tone. That was unexpected. The rest had been rather cordial so far, but this one. There was steel in those black eyes of hers. He spared a cautious glance over at Tyak while he spoke. The Drykas was looking away currently, handling a small clay cup that steamed. His eyes cut back to the young woman. It was almost impossible to divine their relationship with such few clues, or why this one was so on guard with him. He decided to probe further.

“Yes, we left Riverfall early this morning. Traveled along with the coast for a while till we neared a small river. Since then we have been heading east, seldom passing out of sight of its banks.” Karsynwa said, pausing a moment to take in her expression before he continued. “So no, I can’t say we were lost. I’ve had about enough of this rain though.” He breathed out through his nose loudly and crossed his legs while folding his arms across his lap. She’d made a curious remark, one that piqued his curiosity further.

“Your family must be quite self-sufficient for you have never met anyone outside of another Drykas.” He said, focusing on keeping his features plain as he uttered those words. The impulse was to grin at his cleverness for having buried the question in such a way. A diplomatic way is what Arrel would call it, and part of him wanted to glance over at the man to see if he noticed. Karsynwa rested that impulse substantially easier than he did the first. He wasn’t one to preen.

His eyes wandered. Close now he could see the worn nature of those oversized clothes which felt incongruous with the picture he’d been building in his mind. There many questions he wanted to ask her, but none of them were appropriate. So perhaps it was only natural that their conversation eventually collapsed into an uneasy silence with Karsynwa having second thoughts about his little maneuver. Then the food came.

With the food came a barrage of warm smells. The dishes were laid out with a ferocious efficiency, and everyone packed in around them. Karsynwa suddenly finding himself unable to move settled into picking at awkward conversation with Yomila when it became clear that the man beside him didn’t speak common. At least not beyond “eat” and “good”, coupled with copious gestures towards the food.

“Anything you’d recommend?” Karsynwa asked, his tone hesitant as he gestured towards the dishes. Without prompting he went for a bowl of dried curds which he dipped in a thick brown liquid like he saw a man further down the line do. He popped it into his mouth without a second thought and winced slightly as he bit into the curd. There was something strikingly unpleasant about the strong bitter flavor of the sauce with the dry, crumbly texture of the curd. Stubbornly he chewed until with some effort he managed to swallow it down. Casting a surreptitious glance over to Arrel, he watched as the man went for a bowl of green vegetables.

He reached instead for a chopped piece of meat that he ate plain without testing any of the sauces. Still watching Yomila out of the corner of his eye he was wondering where they were going to sleep tonight. They hadn’t come out with tents as they hadn’t expected to be staying out on the grass this late. Now that they were, Karsynwa felt extra cautious. He owed this family that sort of temperance for their generosity, but it didn’t make him feel any more comfortable to be in their debt. In a perverse way, he was starting to feel like her coldness was his fault. That he needed to take steps to make up for the misstep though he was struggling to grasp how.

“Do you plan on visiting Riverfall soon?” He asked once he had completed his last bite, and took a sip of warm tea.

[Yomila]

The distinct disinterest and utter dissatisfaction the Ethaefal was feeling was not something easily covered, and Yomila was not the sort to want to hide it. It rolled off her in waves, evident in her stiff, straight-back posture and set of her jaw. The twitch in her thick brow, the flare in her nose. The way her gaze was narrowed, cutting, judging whatever was caught in its path. Still so new, so fresh in this cycle, she was all cruel edges and critical corners. Time had yet to wear her down. It had yet to make her soft.

Karsynwa, with his idle chit chat, bore the brunt of this discontentment.

She had turned her face away from him after he had answered her, satisfied she had done the bare minimum to appease the one that mattered. She had not meant to grow stiffer. Yomila knew she was meant to be less ruffled towards guests, but he wouldn't stop talking, even after she felt an adequate amount of time had passed between them for niceties.

She inhaled deeply and then exhaled noisily. Her black eyes cut sideways, bringing him into focus, and held him there for a few ticks before saying airily, "Are all Akalaks so chatty, Karsynwa? Or is it just a knack you have?" Her chin lifted; if she had been wearing her celestial form, the maneuver would have made her look poised, elegant, the message lofty but not entirely disrespectful. This form was too smudgy and rumpled to pull off such a regal look; the shift in her posture only made this face look all the more irritated, the words sharp as jagged rocks under bare feet.

Six sets of eyes slowly found her form after this. Tahlto, K'walen and Tyak were the most familiar with the prickly Ethaefal and they could read her plainly. Tahlto's eyes were dangerous daggers. K'walen's brow was a concerned crease. Tyak was the most subtle in his reaction, his warmth reaching out to reassure.

The six sets of eyes each turned from the Ethaefal to the Akalak at her side in no particular order. Tahlto saw an ally, his eyes knowing and sympathetic. K'walen saw an enemy, his brow narrowing. Tyak's were a subtle passing, taking the Akalak's measure but saying nothing, doing nothing to draw any further attention to the two.

The ankal's body language read plain to his sons and the Ethaefal: Peace until they are gone.

It was not a tall order, but it still drew a frown from the Ethaefal.

She sighed. Like an obstinate child, Yomila regarded Karsynwa and focused on what he had said. Her answer was curt, "I had not realized we had traveled so far north."

She made no comment about her family.

The Akalak couldn't have known the error in saying something like that, the ache it caused her. Her family was above. Her family was Leth. Her family was beauty and radiance and perfection.

"Only Drykas and humans.. and now Akalaks," was all she offered, amending through clenched teeth.

The food was a welcomed reprieve.. yet still he prattled on, as if they were friends.

"Try the meat," she said, tone struggling to be anything but irritable. Her eyes cut across to him, roaming his solid blue frame, resenting how small he made her feel. "Your kind look like you need meat," she added. The heat had gone out from her voice. It was dead and blackened now.

She regarded a goat carcass sat not far to her left, cooked whole with its stomach bared open to reveal the stuffing of vegetables, chopped goat's meat and cheese within. Pelin'e and one of her daughters were dishing themselves out spoonfuls of the contents with Orthos' help.

Most everything was picked at with fingers. Shredded and chopped meats. Soft goat and zibri cheeses, some of which had been turned into curds and whey. Foraged greens and herbs and some root vegetables, some cooked plain while others were stewed in milk. Some came in smaller, single serve containers while others required finessing.

Yomila used the food as a reason to further ignore him, thinking it a more polite option than her chillier attempts earlier. She picked at some meat as her eyes swept the food on offer and she mixed it with a bit of stewed milk from a nearby hodgepodge of stewed vegetables. There was an ever present feeling of the familiar that unnerved her and she did her best to push it away.

The Ethaefal was shoving bits of foraged greens around in a small dish when the Akalak's voice pawed at her for attention. Her gaze was on K'walen, his hands moving, motioning something he knew she wouldn't understand but still felt obliged to give. She took it for pity and promptly ignore him, shutting the Drykas out as she swung her flinty gaze back to the other annoying pest at her side.

"Should I?" she asked, but her look and lofted brow said more: Is it worth it?.

"Have you traveled much outside Riverfall?" her words still felt lacking and dull, questions no longer like demands. She was shoving the conversation along much like her vegetables, prodding them idly before popping some in her mouth.

Their respective leaders saved them from their social misadventure as the white fermented drink made its rounds again. Despite her better judgement, Yomila took a drink, her face screwing up as she swallowed.

It was Arrel who spoke first, "Thank you, friend, for sharing your generous hospitality. If you will have us for the night, then it would be our honor to hunt alongside the men who call this land their home. I'm sure there is much we can learn from each other."

Tyak nodded respectfully. His smile was in his voice, "It would be no trouble for us to set up some shelter for you. We have a spare tent that is easy to assemble; we use it during overnight hunts." The ankal turned his attention to the three sons sitting closest to him and a silent conversation passed between each. A simple gesture was made and the three rose and made their way out of the pavilion to erect the tent for their guests, the extra help there to assist with laying extra cover on the saturated ground.

By the time the three were finished and the rain had died down to a faint misting, the fire had burned low and the sun neared the horizon. Conversation had slowed and the murmur of voices had lost its earlier volume. Some of Tyak's daughters had returned to the second pavilion along with Tahlto's youngest wife, retiring to tend to the young. Those daughters that lingered cast curious glances between the two Akalak. Tyak sent a cursory glance between the slip of sky he could see outside the pavilion flap and the Ethaefal.

It was Orthos that first suggested they move outside and build a fire, his voice low in Tyak's ear. The Ankal considered it for a moment and then nodded, addressing Arrel once more, "We have some in my pavilion who might wish some quiet and privacy. The rain has eased; might we move outside for some more drinking and storytelling?"

tag: Karsynwa
nanocount: 1,209

[Karsynwa]

His jaw clenched as he sensed the challenge in her voice. It cut through the mood like ice water after a steam bath. Sharp, poignant. Finaewa might have slapped her had he been given the reigns, but Karsynwa maintained his hold over his brother. The impulse shook him though. Fin was not prone to such impulses so there must be a reason for such a strong reaction. Did he miss an important bit of information when he should have been paying attention? A deeply unsettled feeling roiled through his gut as he purposefully turned his attention to the fire. He could feel the other eyes on him now which served only to sour the mood further for him.

“I’ll forget you said that for your sake.” Karsynwa said, his voice deadpan as his eyes wandered over to Arrel. The man would not look at him for now so he let his eyes wander further around the tent. Only out of sheer stubbornness did he continue the conversation. She continued to answer icily though the rest of the gathering seemed to remain relatively cheery. Most at least, for he saw a couple of confusing looks from the males sitting by the woman. He wondered if he and Arrel should leave right now even though they hadn’t ate much. There was an unusual feeling to the air right now, one he didn’t like in the slightest. It was an instinctual feeling deep in his core that hadn’t steered him wrong so far.

When she recommended him try the meat, he grunted and did so to try to remain gracious. His eyes stayed well away from her however. Suddenly this tent felt crowded. It was too warm by half an the food was either bland or over spiced. Karsynwa ate mechanically until he felt like he had enough, then he started quietly watching again. Still thinking about what all this meant for him. For Arrel. He broke the silence when it grew too much for him again only to receive another of her responses. Karsynwa rolled his eyes.

Yomila had a curious way of picking at her food. She was not quite so tentative as he was around it, but neither was she acting like the rest of the Drykas. That was reassuring in a way to know that her opinion of Akalak was not shared by the rest of her people. Most of them at least he thought remembering the aggressive look he caught from one of the younger Drykas. When she asked a question of her own, he debated on whether or not to answer her like she did his though he quickly decided against that measure. He wasn’t about to lose face in front of these people by his own actions.

“Often. One must travel to know what one does not know yet.” Karsynwa said, and leaned over to pop a piece of goat into his mouth. Chewing slowly he thought about this curious predicament he found himself in with this girl. What was the reason for her ire? He would have guessed a bad interaction with an Akalak in her past however by her own words she only just met one. Her response left much to be desired, though he was willing to give her a second chance. Perhaps she had an argument with her family before they came here and that was the reason for her prickliness.

Arrel chose that moment to speak drawing Karsynwa’s attention from the woman. He wiped his fingertips off on a coarse cloth and coiled to get up when his leader did. Other Drykas did likewise, a few going outside to do as Tyak requested. Looking out after them he didn’t relish going back out there though it would be better than keeping cloistered in her. Besides the rain seemed to have let up somewhat.

When the time came to depart, Karsynwa was ready. He pulled on his cloak and stepped outside into the light misting of rain. It pattered softly on the hood of his covering as he found his way to the side of the guttering fire. The fermented milk had finally settled within him leaving him with a residual warmth that he found comforting as he stood by the others. Arrel brought out a wine skin and passed it around, starting with Tyak. When it got to him, Karsynwa was pleasantly surprised that it was plum flavored. He drank deeply then passed it along to the left as his eyes focused on the fire. Then at their tent that lingered not far from them. Canvas had been laid out underneath it to add a layer against the sodden ground, and the stakes had been driven in deeply into the sunken earth.

“Shall we roll lots to see who starts in with a story first?” Karsynwa asked when there was a quiet moment. Arrel nodded slightly but looked to Tyak for confirmation before reaching down to pull up a tuft of grass, then extended his hand towards the center of the group. One by one everyone picked out a blade of grass from his hand. When it was through, Karsynwa opened his own palm, looking from his piece of grass to the rest trying to see which one was shortest before they held them out together. It was close between his and another’s. With a brief moment of hesitation Karsynwa held his up against theres, drawing in a sharp breath as they made the comparison.

WC - 914