New Beginnings (Sama'el, Denen)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen smiled as he was introduced, though he didn't much feel worthy of bearing the Brokensong name. Not anymore. He did not let his hand leave the stallion's neck, and he bowed his head in respect to the Ankal. He then immediately turned his attention back to the horse, all the while signing to him. His eyes lingered a moment on the dark eyes of the Strider, and he smiled. When Nallia tapped his shoulder, he turned to face her, and he nodded. “They understand it better than most people. It is their language, too.” His blue eyes turned to the horse. “I was...forced to enact the law with my bonded. He grew old, and I...” He trailed off, and his eyes darkened slightly. “It was a very cold winter.” But within the next moment, his attention was drawn back to the Strider and his heart skipped a beat. A wide smile crossed his features, and he laughed. “Demanding, aren't we?” He teased. “Well, I'm sorry. I was just trying to talk to the lady. It's rude to ignore people.” He didn't want to leave the horses, especially this one. What if this was it? He smiled, a bittersweet, sad smile, as he looked down to the mess on his hand, and then wiped it off on his tunic. “Thank you, friend,” he signed. He watched the stud as Andine led him out, and bit his lower lip. “Look, you got us in trouble.” He smiled. “Just my luck. Meet a nice man and his father doesn't approve.” This was signed so that the horse alone could see, and he grinned and shook his head. His hand lingered on the stallion's powerful neck, but his gaze fell on Sam, and a sort of chill ran through him. Denen was so proud of him. He hoped they could find a way to make things work with the Fleetrunners. Having more horses around would mean they'd be able to fit in better, that people might begin to take Sam seriously as a leader. He looked to the other boy, waiting for the word to stay or go.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el had been using his grassland sign a whole lot more since meeting Denen, and then used it all the more as a member of the Watch. His signing was crisp and efficient for the most part, though when he spoke to Denen and they were alone, things relaxed and flowed more gently. "Well, perhaps someday I will be riding to your aid," he signed, "but I would prefer I merely ride to warn you of something coming on the Web. Thank you, lady." The last was addressed to Hek's wife for her hospitality, but spoken in the language easiest for the Ankal to read. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or lose hope when Hek named his price. Of course there would have to be a bargain struck. "They are good horses, but my grandfather would crawl out of his unmarked grave to kill me if I spent that much on them. No offense to your bloodlines or your skills, of course. But your wife said you might need a good Windrunner stud. Mine comes from a stable in Sunberth, and some fine, foreign blood might strengthen your stock further still. Perhaps we could negotiate something. Do you have any juveniles? Weaned but not ready to pull a pavilion? I'm still working on the pavilion so my need isn't great yet." He glanced at Denen, smiled, then turned back to Hek. "Or perhaps I'll just let Denen play the pied piper. That Strider seems to love him." He didn't want to pull the Watch card; it would be dishonorable to even hint that he wanted a discount for the services he rendered to the Drykas nation. Bu the could see the temptation. What good was a discount for arms when one didn't make enough to afford anything with or without a discount? But he smiled through that flash of despair. He had to build his pavilion from the ground up and do it soon or else that pretty sister of Riki's might never look at him again. Dymphna had slipped through his fingers somehow. The life expectancy of a Drykas male wasn't great. He had to establish his pavilion before his blood soaked the grasses of Cyphrus or some other danger took him from this life. But he couldn't show his desperation. No. Not in front of an Ankal. Not in front of Denen.

[Mycroft]

Nallia covered her mouth with a hand as Denen told her the truth about his previous Strider. What an atrocious thing to experience! She was so upset that her eyes even moistened with the threat of tears. Without even asking if she could, the young wife threw her arms around Denen and squeezed him. Holding him close, she rocked him just a little before letting go and stepping back. Suddenly realizing the gesture may have been unwelcome, she blushed and made a quick, one-handed sign. "I'm sorry!" The Strider, now finished with his mouthful of grass, continued watching the pair. His gentle eyes turned to Denen, and he flopped his soft, heavy lips on the boy's shoulder. As Ashne was moved into the larger tent, the Strider instinctively followed, but not before giving the boy a little goodbye-nip. The price was steep, and Hek knew it. He gave a catty grin when Sama'el said so, rocking back on one foot. He arched an eyebrow when Sama'el mentioned the Windrunner. Foreign indeed! Parting his lips thoughtfully, as if about to speak, Hek paused and gave a glance to his Kavinka Paintedmounts. They were dainty horses by nature, but good runners. Windrunner blood might make them too brittle. These weren't the bulk of his stock, however, and the mixed stock at home came to mind. Hek then followed Sama'el's eyeline to Denen, and he gave a muted, wheezing laugh. The boy was a little friendly with him, wasn't he? Thoughtfully, he rubbed his chin, eyeing the ambitious would-be Ankal. The boy was poised, he'd give him that. After a moment of deliberation, he nodded. "Tell you what," he signed, glancing over at Denen again briefly. "Come by my Pavilion this evening, you and Denen. You can follow the Web from any of my horses, presuming you know how to use it. Bring your Windrunner and your Strider. I've got a few young Seme, and we'll talk about a bargain over dinner." The Ankal paused, then added. "The Fleetrunners began from nothing when my great-grandfather angered his Ankal by leaving his pavilion. The story is retold often. If you're ambitious enough, I'm absolutely positive your name will be remembered." Running a hand over his scar, Hek began to turn away, but added one last query. "If my wives haven't told you, I'm Hek. Never caught your name, Watchman."

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen was surprised when the woman hurried to embrace him. His eyes went wide and he blinked from being taken so off guard. Still, he smiled softly when she released him. “What comes is the will of the gods,” he answered. “I live knowing he is part of the Web.” He gently patted the stallion's cheek as he bid his farewell, and watched him go with an ache in his chest. If only...His gaze slowly returned to Sam and Hek, and he moved to stand nearer his friend, a silent supporter in the face of this challenge. Perhaps something might work, though. It certainly seemed feasible. His eyes widened at the offer, and he rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. “Shall we go, Ankal?” He signed, giving Sam a wide smile. Denen was, like Sam, without Pavilion. His father had made that perfectly clear in his last visit during the Spring. Pebble kept in contact, but she did so strictly under Stone's nose. Excitement was written in Denen's eyes. Perhaps he would get to see the Strider again if he was not purchased today.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"My apologies," he signed, chagrined at his faux pas. "I am Sama'el of the Sapphire Clan. Watchman, Web Mage, would-be Ankal. I would be honored to enjoy your hospitality. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope one day my pavilion will compare with yours and that our pavilions are bonded in friendship." He smiled and nodded as Hek withdrew, then turned his sunny smile upon Denen, nodding again. They repaired to camp and spent the day talking and preparing for the evening, Sama'el doing a bit of repair on the leather of Horse's saddle, and polishing the tack of both horses that they might shine appropriately. They were not rich, but they could be presentable. From time to time, he rode the Web back to the temporary set up of the Fleetrunner pavilion, trying to gauge how long it would be before they left. Jyn seemed nonplussed at the idea of dining alone with his daughter, and Sama'el appreciated his stoicism, for if he had pushed it, the Drykas would have felt guilty telling him no, even though the demands of Drykas etiquette were clear. Sama'el went into his tent alone one last time, sat and relaxed, and easily slipped out of his body's confines to shine upon the Drykas Web. His astral form flew out, careful not to be blinded by the sudden brightness of all that Web energy in one place. Endrykas was a city of lights for those with eyes to see. He flew unerringly toward the Fleetrunners, and was just in time to see them set out. They didn't leave at a gallop, of course, so Sama'el sort of tethered himself to Hek, being drawn along, all the while observing the man and his wives, how they interacted with each other, to get to know them a bit better. If Hek checked the Web himself, he might notice Sama'el following, learning the surest route to his camp, but he had invited the reconnaissance, so there was no fear of offending. Once the Fleetrunners were home, Sama'el raced back along the ley-lines connecting them to Endrykas, and crawled back into his mortal shell, extremities tingling and stinging from such a long absence of spirit. Sama'el took a few minutes to flex his fingers and toes, letting spirit fill veins and nerves and organs, then pulled on his boots and crawled out of the tent to join the other men. And the baby. Three men and a baby. Ha! After collecting Denen, saddling Horse and sliding the yvas upon Dohaina, he led the way to the Fleetrunner pavilion, and indeed, the leather of the horse's tack shone in the sunset's fire as they approached. "Ho, Fleetrunners!" he called ahead that they might not be startled into warlike violence by a silent approach.

[Mycroft]

Hek regarded Sama'el with an intrigued, lifted eyebrow. "That's quite the repertoire. It was good meeting you, Would-Be-Ankal Sama'el. Gods keep you." The Ankal physically mouthed the name "Sama'el" - half as an homage to the ambitious youth, and half to make sure he'd interpreted the implied sounds correctly. He finished their exchange with a final nod, then joined his wives and his horses. His second and third wives ran toward him immediately, beginning to speak excitedly among themselves. After their day at the Amethyst Clan Stables, upon their return to the Fleetrunner encampment, Hek let his wives and their Striders lead him part of the way home as he stepped out of himself to check the web. His on equine companion seemed happy to cart along his body, and his wives kept their close eye on him as they went along. Sama'el was noticed, which made the mute Ankal smile. Since his youth, life had been relatively easy for the Ankal heir, and though he did occasionally butt heads with his father, he'd never knewn a struggle like the one belonging to the Pavilion-less Drykas lad. There was something about him that Hek found personally intriguing, and he was quite honestly impressed with his perseverance and strength of will. It was a little inspiring. He'd have to keep an eye on his progress. As the blue sky melted into a blood orange haze, a gentle pillar of smoke rose from the opening in the top of the Fleetrunner pavilion. Theirs was isolated and some distance from the city, but identifiable enough - even to those without access to the web - as a small cluster of lights on the darkening horizon. The encampment's main pavilion was expansive, and looked to be frequently added to. Like the Amethyst Stables, they even had their own tabernacles to keep their horses mostly clustered together. A pair of hunting dogs circled the outer rim of the Herd, keeping the horses in place and an eye and ear out for any possible threats - even if Hek would be able to detect them from miles away. What appeared to be almost two dozen other Drykas marched between the horses and in and out of the pavilions - Hek's siblings and their spouses, as well as a few rambunctious children chasing around the younger foals and goats. Just as numerous were the horses, clustered together in a motley assortment of color. Some tied to temporary posts some distance away, kept separated from the herd. Presumably for breeding purposes. Having sensed Denen and Sama'el hours ago, Hek was already out on the forefront, waiting for them. He was already needed outside to oversee some of the horses and preparations for this summer's business venture in Endrykas proper. Sama'el's call alerted the rest of the Fleetrunners who hadn't already noticed the approaching strangers. To put them at ease, Hek turned and waved to them in response. Sending a signal to the Fleetrunner Herd in the only way Hek was able - and a very effective way at that - he placed two fingers in his lips and let out a sharp, alarmingly loud two-part whistle. The pitch and rhythm was a signal that the Fleetrunners had grown accustomed to since Hek had lost his voice, and it was a basic communicative measure which merely meant: we have guests. Two women approached Hek after this: Andine and Nallia from earlier. After a mixture of hand signals - communicating his wishes for both wives, the three split their paths and head off toward their respective duties. From what could be gathered from the hand signals, Hek was going to finish his daily obligations, and Andine was going to run a check on the Herd and assure everything was in order. Nallia led her Strider directly toward Sama'el and Denen, to escort them into the Fleetrunner encampment. "Ahoy, Sapphire Clan!" Nallia called out in greeting, then as she approached closer, she sent a sheepish smile toward Sama'el's companion. "And Denen," she added with a short giggle. Shaking a few stray braids from her face, the redhead let her horse fall into gait with the other two. "So glad you could make it. It's a big night, tonight. The Ankal has big aspirations for the Fleetrunner Pavilion, and tonight we dine in celebration of great things to come. There's enough Zibri meat to feed three Pavilions, as well as foreign pickled vegetables from Yahebah." She was worried that from where she was, Denen wouldn't be able to properly read her lips, so in short-hand she quickly signed to him what she had just said. "The Ankal would like you to come with me. We'd like to take a look at your..." Her eyes widened as she looked at Horse, as if only noticing him for the first time. She had seen white and gray horses before, but this close up, his build was much more evident. "Is that your Windrunner?! Oh, he'll be so happy!" Nallia led Sama'el and Denen to the tied horses apart from the main herd. Hek sent them a glance of acknowledgement, but he seemed to be busy speaking to someone else. His green arm bands and garb identified him as Emerald Clan, and he was evidently not well versed in sign. "Your horse, you say it's Firemane? It looks more like a Seme halfbreed to me. I've only seen one Firemane in the past five years, and it didn't look like that. There, the legs. Too stocky and too close together. This is not a running horse. It's mixed." The Emerald Clansman narrowed his eyes, studying Hek's hand signals. "What about the legs? Close together? It always stands this way, when it's still. I'm telling you, this is a pureblood Firemane. I procured it from a Syliran trader three years ago." Hek gave a wheezing sigh, shaking his head. "If you were selling me a mixed blooded mare, that would be fine. This is no Firemane. I can see you're plainly lying to me. " "This mare is a fine specimen. You won't be disappointed."

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen did his own tidying up around the house, and helped to cook something for Jyn to eat while they went out. It was a sort of oatmeal that would be feeling, into which he put rosemary. He supposed it was an advantage of constantly having herbs about. He usually had some sort of herb to toss into a pot and enhance the flavor. He took inventory of his supplies, resolved to get more thread, and then saddled up with Sam, though Denen imagined riding bareback might have been more comfortable. He didn't like saddles. They weren't comfortable to sit in. He rode with Sam, enjoying the sensation of a horse beneath him, even if it wasn't his own. Horse was dear to him, after all. Sam had been riding the animal when they first met almost a year before. He ventured a shy smile to Sam as they rode, trusting his friend to know the way. "Are you nervous?" He was, though likely for different reasons. Pavilion dinners were not foreign to Denen. After all, the Brokensongs were a sizable group, and even as an outskirter, he'd always been part of them. Until recently, of course. During their ride, something very strange happened. Sam called out his greeting, and Denen was all smiles until a sharp stabbing drove into the depths of his ears. His body jerked and doubled over. He released Horse's reigns, and loosed an awkward, harsh cry as his hands shot up to clamp over his ears. It was rather like having nails driven through the useless drums, though he wasn't yet sure what had made the sound. After a moment, he recovered himself, his face flushed and his hands trembling as he tried to calm his nerves. He was embarrassed by the sudden and rather exquisite pain, and he prayed Sam wouldn't fuss too much over it. "Hello, Nallia," he greeted in sign once the second wife came to meet them. His brow was creased from the residual pounding in his ears, and he looked a bit pale, but he readily followed her, keeping his eyes open for the pretty stallion from earlier, praying he'd not been sold.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Upon the ride, Denen asked a question and Sama'el had to be completely honest with him. He smiled ruefully and nodded. Of course he was nervous. This meeting might either help him toward his goals or prove a roadblock, albeit temporary. He would die with his pavilion reborn from its ashes like the mythical phoenix bird. But when Denen reacted, he could only imagine it was the particular pitch of a whistle he heard, most likely a signal to the pavilion. He reacted, but Denen recovered himself and was quick to make nothing of it so, with grudging respect, he did what Denen wished and ignored it, though he would ask about it later. "Hello, Nallia," he said aloud, though his fingers were animated in mirroring what his mouth said. This was how he normally spoke when Denen was around, catering both to his friend and to those who might not be as practiced at grassland sign. Sometimes he rather expected Denen to declaim poetry with only the motions of his hands. The words were beautiful when shaped by those healing hands. He was proud to call him friend. Since she was the one who greeted them, it was to her that he presented a bottle of wine from some Benshira vineyard. He had paid too much for it, perhaps, but these were important times and he had been in a hurry. "For you and your pavilion," he said when his hands were free to copy his words out in Denen's visual language. "And yes," he said, glancing with pride at Horse, whose hide shone silver now and was almost metallic in the daylight as well. Sama'el hadn't lied about his lines, the power in him. There was a reason he had waited until he met Horse to escape from slavery. He had never seen a horse outside Cyphrus as likely to speed him to safety, nor as intelligent as to ken a Drykas handler without previous acquaintance. "That fine fellow is Horse." When they were brought further into the pavilion, he nodded to Hek and then said -- rather loudly, and also in sign -- to Nallia, "Why is Hek negotiating for that animal?" he asked. "I lived in Syliras a good long time, and while they are clearly barbarians there, they knew the difference between a Firemane and a ... a mutt."

[Mycroft]

As Sama’el handed her the wine, Nallia raised her eyebrows, but quickly shifted on her horse to take it from him. Turning the bottle over in her hands, she smiled wildly as she examined the label. Of course it was in Common: she couldn’t read the language all too well, but she was learning. “Oh, Sama’el, you’re too kind. Thank you! We’ll have to enjoy this over dinner, tonight.” She glanced back up at both Sam and Denen, but her face fell a bit as she looked over the second man. Denen looked a little unwell, and she frowned in concern. “Is he all right?” She kept her eyes on him as she led her Strider in front of the men. Wanting to avoid an awkward situation for all of them, she flashed a quick smile. “I’m sure he’ll be much better with a belly full of food. Come on.” Nallia led both men toward Hek and the half dozen horses tied separately from the rest of the herd. One of the Seme was with them, as well as the Strider stallion Denen had met earlier. Upon seeing the boy again, the horse lifted his head and grunted its greeting, pawing the ground to get his attention. His mane was now beautifully braded and knotted in true Drykas fashion, and he was only too happy to show off to someone. Denen better have some pleasant things to say. As Sama’el vocalized his opinion, the Emerald Clansman’s face went bright red. Hek put on a bright smile and laughed himself, nodding his agreement. Then he waved his hand at the stranger with the “Firemane,” ushering him to leave. ”You’re welcome to take your horse to someone who is fooled as easily as you, my friend. It’s been a delight meeting you.” Seeing her cue, Nallia stepped in before the Emerald Clansman began to object. Translating her husband’s sign language in gentler wording, she began to lead him away from their pavilion. Finished with his business, Hek turned to Sama’el and nodded his greeting. The smile from the horse seller’s embarrassment lingered. ”It’s very difficult to be kind to some of these men. My father would have had the dogs chase him out, but I want the Fleetrunner name to be well spoken of, not hissed. Unfortunately, drivel like him have sought us out to insert their Pavilion’s name alongside our budding reputation.” Hek shrugged. “It’s good to see that my invited guests showed up. Is that your Windrunner there?” The Ankal kept his expression neutral, not wanting to excite Sama’el. He could present the horse with his own energy. Hek was interested to see how the man handled himself.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen felt color creep across his cheeks, but was relieved when Sama'el didn't ask any questions about his sudden outburst. It was something he didn't much talk about, as he knew it would make people worry about him. He didn't want to be fussed over any more than he already was. Usually, when the pain struck, he was able to at least see it coming. This time had caught him completely off guard. He hoped that with dinner and horses, Sam might forget that it had happened and just let things slide. Or that he'd at least have enough time to think up some sort of excuse, or a better explanation than how silly the truth seemed at the moment. He followed after Sama'el and Nallia, and there stood to the side, quiet and reserved, as the others spoke. It was then, however, that his blue eyes caught sight of the stallion and a wide smile crossed his features. He raised his hand to sign his greeting, speaking through his fingers to the horse as one might to another person. And, in his mind, the horse was just as valued. It was the mindset of the Drykas. “You look splendid, my friend,” he signed. “Perhaps I ought to ask Nallia to braid my hair as well; then I shall look as handsome as you do.” He smiled the entire while, the arrival of the Strider helping him to forget his pain, if only for a moment. He was beyond pleased to see that the horse had not been bought. Perhaps the gods were putting things into order... His stomach twisted in delight and he squirmed, before sliding down off of Horse's back. Petching saddle. The leather was ridiculously uncomfortable. He motioned Horse forward to Sama'el, so that Hek could look at him closer. He was a beautiful horse, though Denen had to remember, at times, that he wasn't a Strider, and didn't understand all of the cues. Sam was, of course, working with him when time permitted, but Sam was, too, kept very busy. They all were.