[Flashback] Hunger (Siiri)

[Naama]

Timestamp: 20th Fall 503AV "This was the stupidest decision we've made yet." The crunch of overgrowth beneath her feet echoed among a cluster of kapok trees until, gradually, it morphed into soft sand pockmarked by dry leaves. Overhead, roosted macaws took flight, their wings blocking the sun in a cascade of blue feathers. Ahead of them was an endless field of blue, and beyond that, nothing. No, beyond that, the world. A smile tugged at her lips as the breeze tossled her braid, sending bones and beads clinking. Eyes as black as coal scoured the shore with a furrowed brow. "Why did we turn left they clearly went right. And we're nowhere near the Eastern Dock." Naama had splayed her fingers, hoping to pinpoint their Fang, but she felt only a dull vibration, and nothing more. "Petch it all. And petch that stupid bird for being so pretty." She held up the feather in her hand, golden in hue, with a smattering of sienna dots not unlike the rosettes of a jaguar. But Niobe would love this. The half-myrian let out a dramatic sigh, shifting the weight of the swords at her back. "We could always hunt for a Charoda and bring it to Ziana as a peace offering." Her stomach rumbled at the notion, though her eyes trained on an object of intrigue beyond the cluster of rocks that tore through the shore like jagged teeth. "Is that a.... boat?"

[Siiri]

Siiri was trailing behind Naama, tuning out the mixed blood as she focused on wiping the flat of one of her jagged daggers with a broad, thick leaf. Occasionally, she would look down to where she was walking, careful of where she placed her feet lest she trip on some exposed tree root or get her leg trapped in some rabbit hole. She didn't know why Naama was so upset. After all, it was her idea they go after that bird, though it was Siiri who had brought it down with her dagger. In fact, she was still cleaning bits of bird flesh stuck between the teeth of her blade. Naama let her keep the avian's carcass for herself, but not before depriving it of its prized feathers. It now dangled from the flap of Siiri's backpack, stripped bare of what had made it a beauty in the first place.

Still food, Siiri thought, not minding that she didn't get any of the feathers for herself. Its flesh was still more important - meat was meat and all that. Besides, she was hungry. Without a word, she followed Naama into the beach, wondering if her companion planned for them to take a brief break, maybe even make a small fire to roast the bird on. Siiri was letting her take the lead, for now at least. Naama was a year older than she was, and even though the jet-eyed woman wasn't a pureblooded Myrian, she had more than earned her place among them.

"You know... a Charoda would be perfection," Siiri said absently as she shook sand from her boots. Grains of it had found their way inside her footwear, making her insteps itch while tickling her soles. Naama's latest words distracted her from the activity however, and Siiri's gaze followed to where her companion pointed at. It was, indeed, a boat. Large enough to hold a handful of people, it was only being crewed by a couple of strong-looking, straw-haired men. At least, they were the only ones the two Myrians could see among the boat's occupants. It was possible there were others within the vessel's hold as well.

"It looks like they're fishing."

True enough, the sailors were hauling up a heavy net, similar in make, and even shade, to what the Myrians fishermen employed. Siiri frowned. That was their people's net! These blonde-haired deyhan were stealing their people's catch! Siiri was about to share this fact to Naama when the both of them saw something struggle within the confines of the net. It was humanoid in shape, though its features were a little difficult to distinguish from the distance. Was it one of the outsiders' companions, who had fallen into the water and found himself trapped by the net? Likely so, because the two on the boat were sawing through the thick material with their knives. They sought to free the trapped person, though doing so would also allow the other fishes caught in the net to escape.

Siiri turned to Naama, sharing a look of indignation with her. "Those are our fish!"

And, by technicality, the person caught by net belonged to the Myrians too.

"They're taking our food!"

[Naama]

oocThere you go, Siiri. I said it. <3 "Those sons of bitches, they mean to starve us!" There was no doubt the Myrian people would survive a few fish being whisked away by brave, or stupid, deyhan, but the audacity they exhumed slighted the half-breed. From what she could tell, the intruders hadn't detected their presence. There was a garble of voices, both young and old, in a language alien to her, but as they were preoccupied with the handling of the net and the person within it, Naama motioned for Siiri to drop low as a revelation occurred. "Siiri, if we kill them, we get their stuff!" She gave her a grin, "Think about it. Fresh meat, fresh fish, fresh poultry. It'd be like a whole buffet, with trinkets and whatever else they may be stashing. And a boat. By the Goddess, we could catch so much Charoda with that." Naama didn't wait for Siiri's compliance. The tawny myrian crept forward, plastering herself against a large, craggy rock spotted with crusted barnacles. Nearby, a tiny crab lifted it's pincers in hostility. Beyond, the straw-haired men continued their discussion, ocassionally drowned out by the crashing waves and the shriek of birds. Naama chanced a glance, noting there were two older men with graying beards and skin brown and splotchy, and a young man whose attire consisted of nothing but a pair of breeches and leather boots. The net they handled, however, revealed what these deyhan had stolen. The charoda was fumbling in the net, it's turqoise skin glistening where the sun touched it, with large gray eyes wildly alarmed. "Tasty," She murmured, extracting her swords carefully from their sheathe. But before she could move in, one of the older thieves turned, kicking sand into the air as he trekked toward their location. Petch.

[Siiri]

Naama's suggestion had its merits. Not only would they drive the outsiders away, possibly even kill them if they proved to be pushovers, and they would get a Charoda - a fresh, live Charoda! - neatly packaged for them out of the deal. True, a good amount of fish may escape from the net if she and Naama claimed the fishman now, but this was a Charoda they were talking about! Whichever clan had set the net would be upset from the lost catch, of course - who wouldn't? - but they would get over it if the Charoda was shared with them and given their choice picks from the possessions of the deyhan (once they were dealt with). After all, how often did one catch a Charoda? A live Charoda? It wasn't an everyday thing, that's for certain! Such a prize would more than make up for the buckets-load of fish that would be lost from its retrieval. Siiri could already imagine the succulent Charoda meat rolling in her mouth. Its flavor and juicy tenderness was to die for!

Of course, it wouldn't be her or Naama who would be doing the dying.

Siiri had the idea to rush the men - get some hits in before they knew what hit them, as it were - but Naama had already slipped past her, intent on causing her own form of mischief. From the way the half-Chaktawe fingered her hooked swords, whatever it was she had in mind was bound to be violent. Siiri didn't follow, instead dropping her pack, boots and greatsword behind some bushes before making a beeline for the lapping waves, using the jagged rocks to hide behind as she crab-walked from cover to cover. Let the sailors think that there was only the one Myrian, Naama, for them to deal with. Siiri would strike at them where they least expected it.

Finding herself waist-deep in sea water, the Snapping Jaws sucked in a good amount of air before submerging herself. She wasn't a particularly good swimmer, unlike most of her clansmen who made it a point to excel in the skill since they spent most of their time patrolling the Kandukta Basin. Not that it mattered; Siiri didn't plan to outswim these deyhan. She just needed to hold her breath long enough to pull off what she had planned.

Swimming close to the sea floor, Siiri circled around the large rocks that littered the beach to where the three Svefra were trying to free the trapped Charoda. The water before her was cloudy from the creature's struggles, and further exacerbated by the flipping and flapping for the fishes that had been netted with it. That was good. It meant the constant disturbance would hide her own movements.

Siiri felt the water surging in from behind her. It dissipated the sandy particles floating all around her, giving her a clear view of the thick seine and everything caught within it for the first time, before the constant kicking of the Charoda sent another sand cloud billowing all around the water.

That was fine; Siiri had already seen what she was looking for. Each end of the net was weighted by large stones, serving as anchors to keep it upright against the water. These she pulled together, creating a sort of cone around everything trapped within it, ensuring that there would be no escape. That done, she surfaced for a moment, just enough to be able to gulp down a much needed breath before diving back down again for the second part of her plan.

Siiri wanted to yank the net back as the surf receded back into the sea. The waves may seem gentle on the surface but it was a powerful force, acting like a suction as it retreated, dragging the net with it. Add to that the fact that the nets the Myrians employed were made from a heavier material that what other fisherfolk normally used and it was a wonder that the three Svefra even made progress hauling the thing back to the shore. The sudden increase in drag may just catch the men off guard and off balance them. Luck willing, it may even cause them to fall and entangle themselves in the net. It should be easy to do with all the flapping fishes covering her movements. The Charoda, with its panicked kicking, would also aid her in this matter.

Its flesh is probably shredded by now! Siiri thought in alarm as she remember the little hooks and barbs expertly woven into the nets. The more the prey struggled, the more they got themselves entangled in it. She knew she needed to get to the Charoda as soon as possible and knock it out before it ruined more of its precious meat from its struggling. Fortunately, they were in too shallow waters for the fishman's blood to attract sharks. Then again, there were other predators that were much closer to the shore. Hopefully, those creatures hadn't yet sensed the disturbance in the water.

Have to do this now! Siiri told herself as she swam a little closer to the edge of the net. Naama better be ready to take advantage once I pull these fools off balance!

She couldn't grab the net with her bare hands, not without cutting herself up like what the Charoda had been going to itself, but Siiri was prepared for that too. Still underwater, she took off her top, wrapping the dark fabric around her hands to protect her fingers. She didn't mind if the blouse got shredded by the net; she always carried a spare in her pack.

With both hands gripping the net now, Siiri hoped for a particularly powerful wave to crash to the shore. That would give it more pull as it retreated back into the sea. Small pockets of air bubbled from her mouth and nostrils as she waited, fighting to hold her breath. When it did come - and Siiri felt herself float forward from its strength - the Snapping Jaws warrior braced her feet against the sandy floor and yanked with all her might.

The result of all her efforts would be evident in the next few seconds.

It was seconds she couldn't wait for underwater. Her chest feeling like it had a tiger caged within and wanting to burst out, Siiri shot up for air. Naked from the waist up, the warrioress broke the water's surface with her twin daggers in hand, ready for combat. She hoped Naama was already in the thick of it on her end.

OOCA lot of fluff, but to summarize: Siiri went underwater and pulled at the net.

[Naama]

The myrian was just about ready to pounce on the unwary intruders, but her companion had gone wandering, bare-chested and proud, into the depths of the sea. She could see her shadow through the waves, weaving towards the net, hooking herself onto it like an unruly crab, and as she heaved, the net and its handlers rocked with it. She grinned deviously, creeping forward as one of the men tumbled precariously into the mess of the net and the wailing Charoda, whose eyes nearly bulged out of it's ugly head. With a swing of her sword, she hooked the young man's neck, tugging him viciously toward the ground, where she grasped his arm and twisted it until she heard the sickening pop of dislocation. The boy sat and roared his agony as the older deyhan regarded her with incredulous stares, spewing words in that grating foreign tongue. "Shut up, ingrates, you're stealing our stuff!" She growled, but a leg had lashed out under her, and she felt the soft sand rush up to meet her. Strong hands pinned her wrists to the ground, while the deyhan's words spilled forth, stinking of rum. The boy had long since stopped wailing, and he stood, his arm dangling uselessly. "Get your fat ass off me," She barked, but the older gentleman only chuckled as she flailed. Oh, you just laugh you little slug, I'll gut you in time. Sharp canines bit down furiously on the deyhan's arm, and with a roar, he released her. Naama struck a blow to his jaw, sending a spittle of blood from his lips as she rolled away.

[Siiri]

Siiri exploded out of the waves expecting to make an intimidating, or at the very least, surprising, entrance. Instead, she found herself mostly ignored, the battle already underway, her half-blooded companion engaging two of the blonde haired sailors. The third, she sensed, had fallen into the water somewhere near her. She wasn't exactly sure where as she had been wiping her eyes free of brine at the time and events were unfolding fast before her. Siiri's eyes settled upon the Charoda, still struggling from within the heavy net, more desperate now than ever. The sounds of violence all around it agitated the peaceful creature and its webbed hands worked in a panic as it tried to free itself.

Not so slippery now, are you? Siiri chuckled silently, directing her mirth at the thing's helpless form, hanging upended from the boat's starboard side.

It must have detected her presence then, the fishman, for it paused in its motions, its bulging eyes, a shade deeper than the sea's turqoise surface, darting all around. It finally found the Myrian's form, so very near it that Siiri only needed to reach out and she could touch it. Its alien eyes met her emerald ones and there it must have seen its doom, for at that moment, the most gods-awful sound ripped through the air, hammering at Siiri's eardrums and lancing her brain with searing pain as the Charoda trilled at her in its own language. Was it, perhaps, begging for its life? Or negotiating for its release?

"SHUT...UP!" Siiri screamed at it through the aural assault.

That hardly silenced the Charoda. If anything, it made it blubber all the more. With barely contained rage, the Myrian waded nearer, holding one of her daggers between her teeth before balling her now-free hand into the smallest, tightest fist she could manage and smashing it against the creature's mouth. Siiri felt something give as soon as her heavy blow connected, about the same time the Charoda went limp. Pulling her fist back, she saw one of its sharp, triangular teeth stuck between the knuckles of her second and middle fingers. Siiri hissed in pain as she pulled the offending object out. Her blood tainted the water red as she plunged it in to wash the wound, the saline making it sting all the more. In her ire, it was all she could do not to hit the blasted Charoda again, knowing full well that another punch could possibly revive it from unconsciousness. She had seen such a thing happen enough times in the training yards during unarmed combat training, and she did not want this one awake to fill the air with its shrill cries.

"I told you to shut the petch up," Siiri muttered, turning away from the Charoda to search for the sailor who fell into the water.

She needn't have to look too far as she suddenly found one of her legs pulled from under her, no doubt by the man in question. Siiri let out a cry of surprise - losing the bone dagger she had been holding with her teeth in the process - as she fell backward. The man was quick to keep her head below the surface, his hands immediately finding her neck. Thick, calloused fingers began to squeeze, strangling and drowning her at the same time. He had good leverage on her and her feet could not find purchase in the loose sands of the sea floor below. She would not be able to kick herself up to get a breathe of much-needed air.