1st of Spring, 522
Syka, was as always, hot. And not hot in the way of you were held over a campfire till you sizzled and popped but thrown into a steaming pot of boiling water where there was no escape. So naturally, Reve woke up cocooned in his own blanket. The wet mass of fabric was handsy in all the wrong ways. It followed every dip and rise of his body, suctioning him to the mat he laid on as mist poured in through the window of his bungalow.
A weak struggle later he detached himself from his sleeping spot with a sticky slurrp as the blanket lost its death grip on his body. Now free from his sodden prison Reve was free to complete his morning rituals. A ritual full of pain and stiffness as he had to coax his malformed hip to grind to life and work out the little shards of glass that seemed to accumulate during the night. The first steps were always a pitiful affair, halting and short, with his arms flying out to stabilize himself on a nearby door frame. The next few came easier and without the searing flashes of pain. It was by the twentieth step that he was moving with his usual ‘grace’ with his slight frame dipping unnaturally with a broken cadence as he worked his way out of his sodden nightwear and slipped into solid boots and rough and ready pants and shirt.
Reve twisted his neck and let out a resounding crack! as he meandered his way out of his small bungalow towards the beachy Commons of Syka. Already people were moving as he was, making their way towards the Commons to receive a massive trade ship known as the Veronica. It only came a few times to Syka and brought many of the things the settlement needed to survive with its isolated location. As such it was quite the event when it arrived. The whole settlement moves out to help unload and see what they had to work with for the season. It was also a good time to see what everyone was up to and work alongside the community.
Reve enjoyed the mindless process of unloading boxes, even if he struggled more than most with his hip, which was not all too pleased bearing a large amount of weight for an extended period of time, but he pushed on. It felt good to help and be of service to some greater good. Gods know that people need something to feel good about in a jungle where even the smallest bug can spell the doom of multiple men.
He shook free of his musings as he plucked a low hanging green and yellow lump of fruit from a nearby tree as he wandered the path towards the common with his halting gate. He pulled the small knife he kept in his boot and went about slicing it up in his hand. Halving the lump around the large pit it contained revealed soft, orange flesh hidden underneath the hard skin. He ate as he walked, enjoying the blindingly sweet and cloying sense of what was called a mango lighting up his tongue. This had to be one of his favorite things about the jungle. Food was never far away and you just had to simply pluck it from a nearby vine, tree, or bush to enjoy.
The rich earth that squelched underneath his boots in a rich shade of brown and black soon became loamier as sand found its way into the jungle before it turned completely pale and white as the trees peeled back to reveal a clearing of beach with a dock that stretched outward into crystal clear water. The light wind created tiny whitecaps across the surface as seaspray laddened the air tickling his nose with the scent of salt and sea life as he stepped into the commons.
Syka, was as always, hot. And not hot in the way of you were held over a campfire till you sizzled and popped but thrown into a steaming pot of boiling water where there was no escape. So naturally, Reve woke up cocooned in his own blanket. The wet mass of fabric was handsy in all the wrong ways. It followed every dip and rise of his body, suctioning him to the mat he laid on as mist poured in through the window of his bungalow.
A weak struggle later he detached himself from his sleeping spot with a sticky slurrp as the blanket lost its death grip on his body. Now free from his sodden prison Reve was free to complete his morning rituals. A ritual full of pain and stiffness as he had to coax his malformed hip to grind to life and work out the little shards of glass that seemed to accumulate during the night. The first steps were always a pitiful affair, halting and short, with his arms flying out to stabilize himself on a nearby door frame. The next few came easier and without the searing flashes of pain. It was by the twentieth step that he was moving with his usual ‘grace’ with his slight frame dipping unnaturally with a broken cadence as he worked his way out of his sodden nightwear and slipped into solid boots and rough and ready pants and shirt.
Reve twisted his neck and let out a resounding crack! as he meandered his way out of his small bungalow towards the beachy Commons of Syka. Already people were moving as he was, making their way towards the Commons to receive a massive trade ship known as the Veronica. It only came a few times to Syka and brought many of the things the settlement needed to survive with its isolated location. As such it was quite the event when it arrived. The whole settlement moves out to help unload and see what they had to work with for the season. It was also a good time to see what everyone was up to and work alongside the community.
Reve enjoyed the mindless process of unloading boxes, even if he struggled more than most with his hip, which was not all too pleased bearing a large amount of weight for an extended period of time, but he pushed on. It felt good to help and be of service to some greater good. Gods know that people need something to feel good about in a jungle where even the smallest bug can spell the doom of multiple men.
He shook free of his musings as he plucked a low hanging green and yellow lump of fruit from a nearby tree as he wandered the path towards the common with his halting gate. He pulled the small knife he kept in his boot and went about slicing it up in his hand. Halving the lump around the large pit it contained revealed soft, orange flesh hidden underneath the hard skin. He ate as he walked, enjoying the blindingly sweet and cloying sense of what was called a mango lighting up his tongue. This had to be one of his favorite things about the jungle. Food was never far away and you just had to simply pluck it from a nearby vine, tree, or bush to enjoy.
The rich earth that squelched underneath his boots in a rich shade of brown and black soon became loamier as sand found its way into the jungle before it turned completely pale and white as the trees peeled back to reveal a clearing of beach with a dock that stretched outward into crystal clear water. The light wind created tiny whitecaps across the surface as seaspray laddened the air tickling his nose with the scent of salt and sea life as he stepped into the commons.