Hey, She's Got One Too (Zakita)

[Dhatzu]

Timestamp: 10th Day of Spring, 511 AV Location: Various locations around Lhavit Time of Day: twilight Purpose: Meeting of the marked of Akajia Status: Closed, tag Zakita A Shinya acolyte had little need of money. Their housing, clothing, food, all their basic needs were met by the grace of the order. But Dhatzu kept a small stash of kina. The young man allowed himself a few simple indulgences, minor splurges that he spent on himself as guilty pleasures in an otherwise rather stoic life. One of those indulgences was tea. Not just any tea, Mhakula tea. Dhatzu had made his way to the Tea House, a few assorted jina in hand. As he approached the small building, he beamed. Even the structure was a pleasure, ornate carvings and well-crafted statues of Zintila herself adorning the circular outer wall. He always slowed his pace to examine the artwork. They captured the goddesses beauty and serenity, yet somehow still conveyed her underlying power. The statues were, in fact, inspirational. The acolyte's steps quickened as he neared the door, slipping in and with a nod from one of Guzo's young granddaughters, he quietly moved towards his favorite table, hurrying when he saw that it was unoccupied, as if someone in the nearly empty tea house was going to suddenly make a dash for his prized spot. Reaching the low table and claiming it with a grin, Dhatzu settled in. He did not call for the server, for the young girl he had greeted had already shuffled off to fetch his regular order. Inhaling deep and releasing it in a cleansing breath, the acolyte savored the spiced aroma of the room. Soft conversations of the few other patrons drifted across the chamber, but one particular dialogue pricked at Dhatzu's ear. It was in the tongue of the Shadows. "He must know already." One voice whispered. "No he doesn't, he has no idea, he's a dim wit." The other spoke in a harsh hush. "Well he should, she's been here for days." Dhatzu looked under the table next to him, seeing clearly the two shadows laying under it. "What are you two whispering about...me?" He spoke quietly in Makath, trying not to look conspicuous. A giggle slipped from under the table. "Yes, in fact we were, Night Walker." One spoke teasingly. "We have a secret." "Well, you know I not only love secrets, but I am an expert at keeping them." The lhavitian replied with a wry grin. It was true, it was Dhatzu's persistent pursuit of secrets that caught the eye of the Mistress of Shadows. And to honor her he kept his secrets close to himself. "Its true, he does." One shadow remarked with matter-of-fact. "Then maybe we should tell him?" The other replied in mock sincerity. The serving girl returned with a steaming cup of spiced tea, a small pot and a plate with a triangular cinnamon pastry. The acolyte smiled gratefully and dropped three topaz kina into her small hand. "Thank you." The young man took a sip of the tea, sighing as the flavorful liquid slid over his tongue. "There is another in Lhavit, one marked by the Mistress just as you." The shadow suddenly offered, its tone dripping with honey, as one would dangle bait before one's prey. "Another Night Walker?" Dhatzu had sat up straight, leaning towards the other table, his voice laced with thinly veiled excitement. "We will show you." The smaller one proposed, perhaps a bit too anxiously. "Yes, please do." Dhatzu replied in with gratitude. "But may I finish my tea first. I just paid for it." "Of course." The larger shadow replied readily. there was some whispering between the inky beings, and the smaller one slipped away. "I will wait for you." Its voice was smooth and almost too reassuring.

[Zakita]

Secret :

And then Zak bit Dhatzu on the butt and there was much hoopla.

“You work too hard,” the silky voice insinuated itself into her attentions with adept magnetism. Zak didn’t lift her head, light grey eyes remaining focused on the anatomy chart spread across the desk. The sturdy desk, as well as the rest of the quality furniture within the comfortably sized room came with the healing job at the Dawn Tower. Also with the healing appointment came the need to study the art, not socialize with the spiteful shadows. Zak’s head suddenly lifted to the window the desk faced, narrowed eyes peering into the dusty light of the sun setting over the city before sliding off toward the corner of the room. That particular observation, hissed soothingly in Makath, flaunted none of the recurrent malice these shadows had displayed to her since arriving. It might have been frightening if not for the infrequent displays of reluctant protectiveness that the shadows could be incited by Lhavitians to show. Warily, she turned her face toward the extra shadow, rather small, waiting with constrained excitement beneath Zeitgeist’s saddle. By now she’d come to recognize and differentiate between many of the shadows that frequented her bedroom. This was not one of the regulars. “What did you say, shade?” she asked warily, thumbnail catching the edge of the anatomy poster and making it snap back into place in quick cadence. “You’ve been here a full seven days, blessed one, and have yet to see the beauty of our city,” the shadow said with a nonchalant concern that Zak didn’t notice was forced. “Yeah. I have no reason to venture out; all my needs are taken care of here and I have a lot of work to do to keep my job,” she defended her hermit-like behavior. “Besides, I don’t speak the language yet so I won’t be able to enjoy anything I find.” The painful lesson with Sousa came to mind immediately; not being able to communicate her thoughts or understand what the Matriarch wanted of her had been a trial. What if something happened and she needed assistance but all she could do was jabber gibberish at everyone? “Like I said, you work too much. I know of someone that can show you around and speak both your language and Lhavitian,” it offered eagerly, flaring when she turned her body toward it and leaned forward slightly. “Pavi? Shiber? A Drykas? Benshiran? Here?” “Makath,” it sank the hook, relishing the word as it came out and hung heavily in the air for the brief second before she leapt at the opportunities it presented. “A shadow stalker? Night walker? Another? Here?” In her excitement, she nearly shoved back from the chair and leapt at her dresser to change into something evening appropriate. Another of Akajia’s chosen! The first she had ever met! At the screech of the chair legs against the wooden floor, sense returned. “Will you take me to her?” “Of course, I will show you him and the city,” the small shadow replied with impish triumph. “Okay, let me get dressed! Don’t leave yet,” she implored the little shadow and scooted the chair back far enough to allow her to stand unimpeded. Only after dutifully pushing the chair in and folding the anatomy chart to return it to its book did she turn away and take the two and a half paces to the dresser. Hastily donning the white cotton Benshiran style clothing, Zakita slid her coat and healing kit into a saddle bag and gathered up the heavy leather contraption. Her little guide skittered around the room toward the door. “Are you sure you want to wear that?” the sedentary shadow beneath the lone candle in the room asked in a low rumble. He might be the oldest shadow in the room, only a theory until the little ink blots could be persuaded into discussing the passage of time. Zak paused at the door, setting the saddle down long enough to put her boots on. “Yeah, what else would I wear? Why? Is it cold outside?” she inquired with a worried glance through the window. Chilly weather presented another danger that she hadn’t quite managed to find a solution to. The heat was easy, she watched for sweat, but the cold…breaking frozen moisture off the inside collar of her jacket turned out to be a delayed warning sign. “No, no, shadow stepper, the spring air is quite comfortable. Come now, we have much to do,” the little shadow urged, zipping beneath the bedroom door and out into the hall. Zak hurried after, but paused with her hand on the knob. “Hey, wait!” Torn between finding something more to protect from the remnants of winter chill, the lanky woman in the flowing clothing fidgeted with anxious uncertainty. Finally, throwing caution to the wind, she’d never met another night ninja before! Zakita adjusted the saddle and rushed after her guide, oblivious to the loose stirrup beaning her in the shin with every step. “Why hasn’t she figured out that those clothes make her look like Okomo?” the candle shadow asked the remaining shades. “I couldn’t care less if she’s cold, but she really should look into getting some better threads to represent us properly.” “Quite right, there’s a swank silk shop down the street that could really set her up appropriately,” another chimed in, inciting a lengthy fashion discussion with several references back to the two shadows helping Akajia’s chosen meet. They would simply have to crash the party and make some demands of their own before the night ended. Thirteen paces down the hallway, practically skipping with every other step, eyes darting between shadows flaring in greeting and the various sharp objects available to injure, the decidedly unfashionable Benshira momentarily lost sight of the guide shadow and almost took a wrong turn in the vast and mostly unfamiliar building. The little guy darted back to recapture her attention and then slinked off down the steps with the frazzled woman catching sight out of the corner of her eye and giving chase. “Hey! Ink Blot! Wait!” she called, ignoring the condescending glances thrown her way by other students utilizing the stairwell, and stopped at the top. Her bedroom, where all dangers had already been calculated, and the hallway, where very few new risks presented themselves, could be rushed. Stairs could not. Or could they? Because the shade hadn’t even twitched at her entreaty. Growling, the woman hitched the saddle up on her left hip and slipped down the steps, agile and quick but unaware of the way her over-extended strides gradually carried her feet further and further over the edge of the steps until finally she missed one completely. The ensuing tumble to the bottom, bouncing end over end in a revolving dance with the tack, could have been both agile and graceful had Zakita had much practice with falling down steps. Alas, she had not and landed at the bottom in a heap of panic. “Why’d you do that?” the nonplussed guide inquired, making an abrupt reappearance. “Because you have sky glass for ears, ninny,” testily replied the shadow beneath the saddle. Frantically throwing the gear off, Zak let the fickle shadows bicker amongst themselves as she tended to the important business of ensuring her well being. A bone could have been broken! A cut or scratch could have been rent through her skin! She could get infected! She could be maimed and gimpy forever! Did her eyeballs still work!? “Am I bleeding?! Am I bleeding?!” Anxiety from the chase and excitement from the upcoming meeting spurred her self-check from the methodical to the maniacal. Rolling this way and that, lifting this leg, twisting that arm, craning her neck around like an owl, most students avoided the flopping woman and opted to take an alternate stairwell. White cloth remained white, smooth skin remained intact, and no palpitations released crunchy sounds. Banishing tension in one big exhalation, the nimble woman rolled to her feet and straightened the flowing clothing before hoisting up the saddle again. With an unfathomable glance to the guide shade, long strides ate up the distance to the stables where Zeitgeist waited. Running a hand along the flank of the nickering beast, Zak smiled and set about saddling. “How have you been, Zeit? Your coat is looking healthier.” “We’re going to the Okomo Villa,” the shadow, taking up residence on Zak’s shoulder, informed her. The busy woman didn’t spare even a twitch in his direction. Zeit had been weary and worn upon arriving at the beginning of the season and needed extra care to ensure he was ride ready. Besides, what was an Okomo?

[Dhatzu]

Though this ritual, the enjoyment of his tea and pastry at the serene tea house, was one he typically savored, Dhatzu found himself sipping more frequently at the aromatic liquid, taking larger bites of the sweet treat. Another Night Walker in Lhavit. Surely he must be a new arrival. The shadows see everything, and gab to one another like giddy school girls. He certainly would have heard about a resident shadow talker by now. What if he was only visiting, what if he was leaving soon! A spark of anxiety ignited inside the acolyte. He had never met another chosen by Akajia, he would have so many questions. How did it happen, have you seen her since, are the shadows insulting and bothersome to you too? Spurred by a quiet desperation to meet this man, Dhatzu tilted back his head and up ended the tea cup into his mouth, draining the tea into his throat, which protested with a cough at the flood of hot liquid. The involuntary reaction resulted in a sputtering release of the brown beverage in a broad, misty plume expelled from his mouth at great velocity. Heads turned and the young serving girl stared with wide eyes as the spray of tea descended upon the clean table cloth, tea pot and the hardwood floor beyond. There was an awkward silence as the sound of spewing ceased, the young man's eyes meeting the gazes of those around him, ranging from disgust to amusement. Then, at least to Dhatzu's ears, the collective laughter of the shadows tucked in about the circular room began as if on signal. With a hasty motion the acolyte scooted his back his chair, grabbed the rest of the pastry and shoved it in his mouth, swiftly making his way out of the shop, waving at the young serving girl. "Sorry about that," he mumbled around the mouthful of dough. Suddenly he darted back to the table, slipping another jade kina onto the damp covering, feeling guilty for leaving the mess. "Come on, show me where he is." Dhatzu demanded once he ejected himself through the tea house door. The sly shade trailed behind, slipping from one hiding place to the next. "Patience human, I will take you. We are going to the Library." The Library? Is he a scholar, does he work with the Seekers? "Why would he go to the Library?" Dhatzu wondered out loud. "How should I know?" The deceptive shadow hissed casually. With a controlled, hurried pace the acolyte wove his way towards Tenten Peak and the Bharani Library.