Shades of the Past [Seodai]

[Sela]

Timestamp: 6th Winter 511 A.V.

That house. I knew that house.

She was small, unprepossessing, a form fit for the one who felt incredibly small in the world right about now. Tendrils of brown hair stained by black whipped around her teardrop face in the fierce gale of winter, but she did not move to push them out of her face. Her eyes were completely fixed on the half-moldering building in front of her, mouth murmuring silent letters as she recounted some vague memory.

...Jon. Jon, my best friend. This used to be his house...

A small, twisted smile scrunched the nuit's face, equal parts sadness and jubilance. With that small grin still on her face, Sela whispered quite clearly to the house, "You died five hundred years ago, Jon..." Then, for a moment, she simply stood and waited, as though she anticipated the house to respond to her. When it did not, she frowned and made to move away.

A short, clipped stride took her down the street, her eyes roving the Denval all around her. It had changed. And it had not. It was a mixture of the old and new, the nostalgia of the buildings she remembered scarred by the overimposed images of the ones she did not.

Her shoulder, that weak, fragile shoulder, collided with the form of someone much bigger than her. But that wasn't saying much. Most people were bigger than her nowadays, or at least in her current form.

Sela turned, startled, as she fell back. Eyes as dark as coals searched the face of the person she'd collided with, searching for some source of anger or ill intent. "That was not..." She began, and then stopped. "...Excuse me. I didn't mean to bump into you." She finally forced the words out, a puzzled look drooping her brow as she considered the difficulty she had speaking. She hadn't talked to another being in a while now. Sela tended to avoid them...up until now.

With a soft shake of her head, Sela made to move off from the other person, her eyes once again returning to the Denval she knew, and avoiding the Denval she did not.

[Seodai]

Seodai carried a heavy basket, filled with the last of the fruit of summer, as well as some of the vegetables he and Theo had set aside for themselves. After all, as kind-hearted as the pair of them were, they had to eat too. If they were not healthy and well to help make food for Denval, then everyone would suffer more than they might recognize the loss of a spaghetti squash and some odd aubergine. This was different, though, because it was family. A tiny cousin of his own had fallen ill, and he wanted to be certain that she and her entire family were eating well, despite the descent of winter upon them. Seodai also carried a heavy load, though this one was hardly visible. Life had changed entirely for him in one week, and it was difficult to keep his mind clear. The only times he really ever felt at peace anymore were the times spent with Syllke, who chased away his demons and made him feel glad to be himself. There was far too much going on in Denval for him to stay in bed all day, and all night, though. He had to greet the morning like everyone else, and those hours were the difficult ones. There was just too much going on. Denval under siege, the cold distance of Bala, the visitations of the gods, strange prophecies that seemed impossible to untangle. Dealing with who he had been, and who he was now, coupled with the strains of surviving the winter in general. And now, CiCi was sick. Seodai was hardly paying as much attention to his path as he should have been, but who could blame him? Everyone in Denval was struggling. That lapse in attention was enough to cause a collision, apparently. For all that he bumped into the apparently defenseless woman, Seodai dropped the load of food in his arms in the process. He breathed a quick apology. "Oh! I'm sorry," and, in that way that people often talk over one another when apologizing, he shook his head with a faint smile and muttered. "No, it's okay." And, with that, the farmer stooped down to pick up the food that was rolling about the Denvali street. Hopefully it hadn't been bruised too badly.

[Sela]

Sela barely heard the big man's words - her mind had wandered elsewhere by then - but the single, large eggplant that rolled right up to her foot caught her attention. In a moment, it had brought her consciousness down from the town to one specific part of it in general. For a minute she could only stand there, admiring the hard, purple aubergine.

A smile flickered across her face as she remembered the meals her mother had made for her using eggplant from her father's garden, back all those years ago. She remembered the eggplant, she remembered that her mother had cooked them, but she had long since forgotten her mother's face. How strange.

A small, cold hand darted out. It seized the eggplant and brought it up to Sela's chest like some priceless treasure, holding it so no one else could grab it. Diffidently, she turned back to the man she'd collided with, only now noticing the large basket he had been carrying.

"Here." Her voice was flat, dull - but more focused than it had been when she'd first apologized. Sela let the eggplant slip through her fingers and settle gently into the basket. There were a couple more fruits and vegetables rolling around, doubtless from her oblivity, that the man was trying to pick up. She began picking them up as well.

"These are nice. Did you grow them?" The question seemed to surprise its speaker, the normally taciturn Sela, making her frown slightly even as she murmured the words. No words followed the query, as there was only a frantic economy of movement with the express purpose of gathering as many fruits and veggies as possible in the shortest time. Sela tried to keep her eyes focused on the fruit she was collecting, but she couldn't help but sneak a glance at him.

He was tall, lanky, and pale, not unlike Sela back in the day. Hair the shade of Zeltivan sand fell down over his forehead as he stooped down to collect his produce, casting a shadow over a defined, thin face. It almost seemed obvious he had grown the produce, or at least had grown produce of some kind before this encounter; Sela's father had been a farmer of sorts, and there was something, some essence of hard work and digging in the soil that had permeated his being and now resided in this man as well. This farmer, this man, was no stranger to toil - that much was clear.

"I'm...my name is...Sela. Yes, I'm Sela."

[Seodai]

Someone who seemed as awkward as Seodai felt. It was almost amusing. Seo accepted her help silently, and then stood to balance the bounty on his hip instead of in his arms. That left one free hand, which was calloused from working the earth. He extended it in offering, polite enough to please the man he thought of as father, even when it made him uncomfortable. "Hi, Sela. I'm Seodai. Yes, I grew these." And with that, he was completely out of polite niceties, and so he just stood blinking big blue eyes at her upturned face. She didn't seem familiar, not at all. Denval was quickly becoming filled with outsiders, though, and so he had no reason to feel suspicious - other than the fact that she wasn't of Denval. "Ah.. you're... new here? Yes?" Seodai wasn't the most socially pleasant of people she could have literally bumped into, but at least he was trying.

[Sela]

Sela eyed the proffered hand suspiciously, then tentatively took it. The callused surface of the man's hand felt warm to her cool, undead flesh. "Seo-dai." Sela savored, rolling the syllables over her tongue as if trying them out. "Se-odai? Perhaps Seod-ai? Well. In any case, that's an intriguing name."

"Does it mean anything?" "Sela" didn't, plucked out of thin air when she needed a more feminine for a more feminine form, but she knew names often held hidden meaning about the person who used it. And Sela, if anything, was of a curious mind.

Sela tilted her head to better examine the man, examining the profile of his face. Was he a Denvali? She couldn't tell. It had been so long, she couldn't readily identify one at a glance. But he sure did sound like one.

"I'm sort of new." Sela twisted her mouth wryly. "I've been to Denval before, but not for a long time now. I never stay in one place long, y'see."

"And you? Are you of Denvali origin? Perhaps you can help me...get better acquainted with all that's changed since I last visited." Sela leaned in conspiratorially. "There are quite a few, if I'm being honest. I'm not the type to ask for help, but...desperate measures, right?" Sela attempted a grin. It was a poor imitation, but hopefully Seodai would catch her meaning.

[Seodai]

"It means... something like strength," Seo roughly translated, realizing that there we some things the Denvali people might never be able to really explain to outsiders. He didn't explain how terribly unfit he was for such a name, either, choosing instead to simply withdraw his hand and return it to the basket he held. Her proposition was an awkward one; could she have chosen a more backward person in all of Denval to try out as a tour guide? Likely not. As it were, much of Fall had changed him, opened him up like a brand new flower, and so it was that he ducked his head with a smile he'd never know was handsome, and assented. "Okay. I need to make a stop first, if you don't mind?" Assuming she agreed, Seodai began to lead the way down the streets of Denval, which had always been home to him. He'd never seen the world beyond and, until Syllke began to weave fascinating stories of places beyond and some unnamed curse had befallen them all, he had never wanted to. "Uh, what do you want to know? I mean... there's the baker," he said as they passed, the smell of warm bread wafting out to tease them as they passed. "Makes great pastries. Has a little boy who is allergic to strawberries." And so his commentary went; a running mix of the most basic information imaginable, interspersed with intimate details only someone who had grown up breathing this air and working with these people could know. They traveled to the more residential area before Seo slowed, to explain their detour. "I have family who is sick. I'm taking them fresh food, to be sure she's eating well and all. It'll just take a moment." Seo rapped on the heavy wooden door with his knuckles and when a voice inside beckoned them in, he bumped the door with his hip to open it. Instead of leaving her outside, as she might have expected, the blonde simply pushed the door open and gave her an expectant glance. Theo had taught him chivalry.

[Sela]

"Quite." Sela gave the other man - Seodai - a smile of her own, the whites of her teeth clamped down as though trying to hide something inside it's shimmery veneer. Secrets were closed tightly to the chest, unyielding, even as Sela forged new connections and got closer to ever more people. What a paradox was she.

"That's fine by me." Sela assented, standing up to her full, meager, height. A trailing step carried her close behind her averse guide, her form everpresent behind his right shoulder. "Whatever you think people need to know about Denval, really," Sela said in reply to the farmer's question, "Current events, shops, and so on and so forth."

"For example, it's good to know about the baker. Never know when you need a good pastry." Which was, as a matter of fact, never. Undeath had a way of stealing your hunger away - or, at least it did for the nuit. The others...

Those thoughts were discarded hurriedly as Sela followed Seodai around town. She hardly noticed their destination until the man stopped in front of - in front of -

"A-alright." Sela forced out, her eyes still locked onto the very house they were poised to enter. The trembling sensation she had felt a while ago was starting to come back to her, was starting to take it's old residence in her senseless fingers.

She barely noticed Seodai open the door for her, floating inside on a daze. A murmured thanks followed her inside, until she paused awkwardly in the opening. Indecision stopped her there, rooting her there.

Brown curls were thrown to the side as a gaze was sent backwards. "You said you have family here," she gasped, "Do...you live here?"