[Flashback - Pua, Siiri, Vhana] Bleak Seasons

[Vhana]

Early 509 AV

Rain fell in fat, sultry drops. It was a hot and humid day, and rather than offer a brief respite from the sun's cruelty, the rain seemed only to make conditions even more miserable. The low-hanging, swollen gray clouds did not seem all that ready to completely release their cargo, instead allowing only a faint drizzle. It managed to soak everything, though, after an entire morning of such a lazy onslaught. Days like this were not uncommon in Taloba, or anywhere else in Falyndar, as the inhabitants knew and were quite accustomed to. In fact, weather such as this was considered fair for the time of year.

Vhana could remember last season's severe thunderstorms. It flooded entire regions and left them unapproachable for weeks. Stagnant pools, those which either did not soak into the earth or evaporate into the air for continued use, provided ample breeding grounds for a plethora of disease-bearing insects. Most Myrians, after generation-upon-generation of having lived in Falyndar proved resistant to such maladies, though there was word of a group of fool-hardy adventuring types that had succumb to the wasting sickness.

Kelvics were a different story, however...They seemed immune to many of the illnesses that plagued humankind, but suffered from things that were otherwise unknown to most knowledgeable in herbs and medicine. Vhana herself did not know if all Kelvics shared the same weaknesses, or if it depended on their more specific...breeding. She supposed that none of that was neither here nor there, though, as she prowled through Taloba's crowded and winding streets.

Until recently, the young woman had lived her life without much care or worry. Much like a child. Society, in truth, was much too complicated for her. A simple existence, the only one she had known thus far, seemed more logical than all...this. Her nose crinkled at the thought, as amber-colored eyes took in the scene around her.

People milling about, hawkers crying out their wares, an old woman selling meat most folk would be repulsed by. There were some things that she could recognize and understand: a difference between classes, for example. What baffled her were the laws by which governed them. In some cases, those who led the weak were not necessarily strong themselves. Perhaps it was money that Vhana did not truly comprehend.

Or maybe she did, all too well, and that was why the young female shunned such a manner of living.

Her boots, the soles soft but sturdy, splashed into a puddle, causing the brown liquid to splatter out and catch the hem of a passing woman. It was a detail nobody noticed. In all the hustle and bustle, every one was getting wet, getting shoved, and getting on with what they'd set out to do. She was just one of many.

As a figure in the crowd, Vhana herself was not an odd sight. Though quite a bit shorter than many Myrian women, and her blonde hair caused her to stand out like some sort of stain on the societal cloth; her clothing, as well as the weapon strapped to her back were not anything the locals would be unaccustomed to seeing. She moved with all the feral grace of a predator- as was her very right, and the gleam within those gold-hued eyes spoke of something not human.

As a people, the Myrians were no more or less repugnant to Vhana than any other, though she perhaps knew more about them than another culture by virtue of having been born in Falyndar. Her willingness to look past their hunger for the flesh of their kind might startle others, but she was a hunter first and foremost, no matter the shape she assumed. Gruesome it might be to others, but Vhana had no qualms with consuming the sweet meat of a Konti, or drinking the delicious red vitae of a human. Other Kelvic might even find themselves prey, all things depending.

Disturbing was not a notion that teased her mind. Vhana, being a survivor, would do almost anything in order to keep herself above the green grass. She was not an evil creature (that being another school of thought that the tanned beauty rarely entertained), just a supremely indifferent one. Curiosity, though...Well, everybody knew that saying, didn't they?

It was curiosity that brought her to Taloba. Questions about herself and the world around her, ones that could not be answered by those she was raised by. That she could find them here, within the Myrian capital, Vhana could not be certain. But in seeking, in asking, the young female knew she would find knowledge.

Even if that knowledge was not what she hoped to learn.

[Pua]

The light drizzle fell upon Pua where he lounged on a barrel to one side of the Bazaar. He had just returned from a scouting trip yesterday afternoon, and Heda of the Creeping Vines had given the rookie scout the day off. Pua leaned his head back on the wall behind him and sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the free time, but he was bored. What few friends he had were all working today and there was nothing exciting going on for him to stick his nose into. He had already contemplated and discarded the idea of going down the archery range and working on some target practice. He didn’t feel like dealing with the pointed stares and barely veiled jabs at his use of crossbows over a normal bow. For the moment all there was to do was slouch dejectedly on his barrel and watch people go about their day. Over to his right, two women were haggling over some cloth. To the left, a man was purchasing some lettuce from a farmer how had set up a small stall. Pua grimaced; he couldn’t stand lettuce at all. It wasn’t the taste he minded, but the texture just felt all wrong in his mouth.

He was about to go search out a far more appetizing snack for himself when he noticed the oddest sight. A pole arm was weaving its way through the crowd, seemingly of its own volition. Transfixed, Pua stared until a moment later a swirl in the crowd allowed Pua to see that the spear was not moving by itself, but was strapped to the back of a diminutive young girl. At first Pua thought it was simply a youngling, proudly carrying the weapon that she had just begun learning. A closer look revealed hair that no Myrian head would sport and the few glimpses Pua saw of her profile as she walked away indicated she was more woman than child. Pua was considered a runt by Myrian standards, but was much taller than this woman. Pua idly thumbed the malachite earring hanging from his left earlobe as he pondered the mystery of the young lady.

Clearly this woman was an outsider and outsiders, in Pua’s experience, meant trouble. At the very least she should provide a diversion from what was shaping up to be a very dull day. With a hand, he swiped water from his gleaming pate and slid down off the barrel. He gently pushed through the crowd at a parallel to the outsider woman, though not directly behind her. He paid no attention to her directly, so as not to alert her to his surveillance. Instead he kept the spear sticking over her shoulder within his peripherals as he meandered through the crowed, waiting to see where such an odd looking stranger might lead.

[Siiri]

“I hate the rain,” Siiri groused. “Stupid…wet… droplets!”

The woman realized how ridiculous her words sounded and she stormed through the marketplace crowd, her brows knotted like furious thunderclouds, forehead creased, her livid scar emphasized, giving her a somewhat malevolent look. She wasn't truly angry at the weather so much as just being in a foul mood after running across her mother on her way to the marketplace to... what was she here for again? Conversations with the matriarch of the Snapping Jaws not only left a sour taste in Siiri's mouth, it made her distracted and unfocused as she worked to rein in her temper. Thus she roamed the market, packed despite the light drizzle, with no clear destination in mind. She often allowed the crowd to carry her to whatever direction it was flowing, though sometimes she jostled through the shoppers when she found that she had already passed a particular stall earlier.

Off-duty for the rest of the week, Siiri was out of her leathers and was wearing her normal street clothes: a simple green-dyed blouse, sleeveless with a thin fabric to ward off the heat, and dark short trousers. Only a few minutes in the open and already the rain had made her blouse cling tightly to her form and made her trousers a darker shade than it was before. Her copper-red hair, usually braided into neat cornrows, she had kept it loose and untied. Normally her long locks would have been unruly and all over the place and made her look like a lion, but the light shower plastered them on her face and shoulders. She could only imagine what the dampness would do to her weapons, especially the metal greatsword strapped at her back. Nevermind the bone daggers, but she would have to reapply oil on Slayer when she returned to the barracks.

Yet another reason to hate the stupid rain, Siiri thought. Unthinkingly, she kicked at a muddy puddle in her annoyance, spraying and leaving dark spots on the clothes of several passers-by. Most took no notice of it, knowing they have to wash their clothes eventually after a day in the market, but the majority of the spray splattered on the trousers of a blond-haired girl. Siiri looked up, realizing her mistake.

[Vhana]

Vhana never noticed the dark skinned man, with his shiny bald pate, trailing her as she made her way deeper into the Myrian market. The slender female had only ever been in Taloba twice before, and each time the visits never lasted longer than a few hours. Her first memory was a collection of hazy fragments, more about new smells than sights, but her second recollection proved more fruitful.

Still a child by anyone's standards, Vhana could recall sitting on the edge of a monstrous fountain and kicking her feet in the sparkling waters of its main collection pool. It was sunny and warm, and the air veritably hummed with sound. The tiny child had been left mostly to herself that day, to laugh and play, and enjoy what it was to be carefree. It wouldn't last.

It never did.

Vhana was drawn from her brief reverie by a sudden splash of chilly water to the back and side of her left leg. Her eyes, an exotic shade of rich gold, dipped downwards momentarily to assess the extent of the damage, (which was no damage at all), before sliding up...and up to come in contact with eyes like emerald leaves. Siiri was one of the tallest women Vhana had ever come in contact with, and certainly the most intimidating. Myrian women, it had once been told to her, were ferocious creatures the rest of the world had reason to fear. Looking into those eyes, the Kelvic believed she could understand why.

Fear, however, was not what she felt. Nor did Vhana find herself threatened. Each were plausible emotions, and surely no one would have blamed her for them had she perhaps cringed and shuffled away like a dog beaten. Yet inside that small ribcage beat the heart of a lion, and Siiri would be remiss if she had hoped to see the sheer boldness in those eyes waver. The lock of eyes lasted no more than an instant, the passing of one second to the next.

Long enough, certainly, for Pua to see the top of her spear pause in its weaving through the crowd. In just a few more heartbeats, and less than a handful of steps, the Myrian scout could reach out and touch the Kelvic's shoulder, if he so chose. In the strange way the crowd can seem to sense things, people that had once filled the narrow path seemed to part, so that the three seemed to be alone.

With her head still turned towards Siiri, the much smaller woman offered a shrug of slender shoulders as if to say, “It's okay.”

[Siiri]

“My apologies,” Siiri muttered as her eyes moved up.

Her gaze locked with those of the girl for a moment and her frown of annoyance changed to one of puzzlement. A deyhan? The girl was too short to be one of her people, her hair too light and pale to be sported by any of the local girls. Definitely a stranger. A guest, perhaps? But she seemed to be alone… Siiri looked around and her gaze fell upon the closest Myrian around, a bald male. Her frown deepened even further. A slave? No, she had seen him in the training grounds before, a fellow soldier.

“Is she with you?” she asked the bald man in Myrian. If the girl was new to the city, she should not be able to understand her words… and would mean the gate guards had been remiss for letting a deyhan within the city walls unwatched.

[Pua]

As he discreetly tailed the deyhan Pua considered possible ways to question her without causing too much of a ruckus. Pua had no desire to chase a frightened girl all over Taloba. The speartip ahead suddenly stopped its forward progress. Either the unknown deyhan had reached her destination or was being held up by something Pua could not yet see, as she was standing in the middle of the street the former option seemed unlikely to Pua. He dropped all pretense of stealth and quickly pushed himself through the remaining pedestrians between himself and her. As he came up behind her, he noticed that she was engaged with another Myrian. The woman was taller than he, but that tended to be the norm within Taloba, and he could remember seeing her striking face somewhere before, but for the moment Pua’s brain could not supply a name for the beautiful face. Though she was dressed in civilian clothes at the moment Pua could tell that this woman was a warrior. It was evidenced in the way she moved, how she observed various details, and the strength in which she carried herself. And is that greatsword strapped across her back belonged to a farmer than Pua was a weaver. Not knowing this woman’s status, Pua decided to defer to her for dealing with the deyhan, as was proper for any Myrian man.

The deyhan herself was an interesting study as well. From his position behind her, Pua could not tell much of her features but her body language showed her to be unworried with facing down the much larger Myrian woman. This spoke volumes to Pua about her courageous character, a trait that many Myrians admired. It was also a trait that tended to get deyhan killed in Taloba, idly Pua wondered if someone should inform her of this as he waited for the warrioress to complete her business with the blonde haired lady or include him within the discussion. She did so a moment later.

Pua let a lazy smile creep across his face as he returned his attention to the warrioress. [She is not on my head,] he quipped, following her lead and speaking within their native tongue, [I was just on my way over to discover this one’s business myself as a matter of fact. If I may?] as was Pua’s way, he didn’t wait for actual permission, his flippant attitude has far too deeply ingrained within his personality to be overridden for long with cultural expectations. Pua’s lips stretched into his best smile, one that displayed his white teeth against his dark skin in a way that tended to unsettle weak minded deyhan. From what he had observed of the blond woman, he didn’t think it would phase her at all. Switching back to Basic he addressed her. “Are you perhaps with someone young one?”

[Vhana]

As it would turn out, Vhana spoke the Myrian tongue as if she had been one of their own blood. Better, perhaps, than she spoke the Trader Tongue. The gate guards had grilled her heavily when they realized they couldn't simply turn her away as they would any other deyhan. It was just far too suspicious, after all. Frustrated, Vhana had described to them the Old Man three times before they finally believed she was telling the truth, and allowed her safe passage.

“Has he finally gotten too decrepit to come to Taloba himself, girl?” One of them had asked, laughing as he did so. Vhana was unsure at the emotions she felt. A twinge of sorrow, and perhaps anger? Maybe, but it hadn't shown when she replied.

“He said that we were useless if we didn't actually do anything for him.” Black the Elder had something of a reputation amongst those Myrians old enough to remember him. An eccentric, he had abandoned his life within Taloba to live alone in the wilds of the jungle.

Well...not entirely alone, but the stories would tell it that way. Rumor had it he had been fairly important -for a male- but Vhana had never been able to get a straight answer from the Old Man herself. In fact, he'd told them relatively little of his past, although that had never seemed like much of a concern for the others. You'd think the Old Man had been their very own father, or something.

As Siiri pushed Vhana's entire existence to the side in favor of finding an answer which she would deem suitable to her tastes, the smaller female frowned. This sort of behavior was not common for her, though she had been warned of it. To the Myrians, all others were lesser. Even the lowliest among them ranked higher than the curious and most often unwelcome deyhan. Vhana held her tongue, not for fear of reprimand, but because she had the wisdom not to test the limits of what looked to be a powerful warrior.

Pua seemed an oddity to her, going against everything Black the Elder had ever told her about Myrian society. People with no hair were supposed to be slaves, or at least incredibly shamed by something. This man was plainly neither, though Vhana could never of said how it was she knew such a thing. His willingness to be so glib towards one who should be his better bordered on recklessness, but she wasn't about to tell him so. As Vhana understood it, a Myrian was just as like to bite out the throat of another as they were to say hello.

“I came alone,” she said, addressing them both in their native language.

Hands on her hips, the pose she struck no doubt seemed insolent, but the fact she needed to crane her neck back to look at either of them lessened the impact...somewhat. She had surprisingly soft features, her youth obvious for all to see. Just then, they were set into a firm expression of confidence: it would never do to let a potential enemy see anything they might construe as weakness. Her hair, the color of burnished gold, fell freely past her shoulders and was without any sort of decoration. Everything about Vhana hinted at a creature that kept itself neat and tidy, but the wear and tear of rough terrain and bad weather had left her looking somewhat unkempt.

“There is no one who claims me, now.” Such words, uttered by a Kelvic, ought to have been said with a quavering voice. There should have been tears in her eyes, a lump in her throat! There should have been something...anything but the curious way her eyes became flat and dead as she did so. A sense of bewilderment seemed to linger in the thick air, but Vhana said no more.

[Siiri]

Siiri was hardly surprised that the girl could speak Myrian fluently. It just proved that she's been in the region for quite some time and was one of the few outsiders who were allowed within the city... perhaps. Her words were another thing entirely.

“'No one who claims...'” the woman repeated, trying to understand the significance of the statement. “Are you an ex-slave, then? No, do not answer that question. I would applaud you if you escaped them. I don't know why anyone would keep slaves or servants. They only allow themselves to grow fat and weak as they let others do their work for them. Useless dregs whose spines should be severed, if you ask me.” Siiri said the last part in an undertone, her voice low enough not to be heard by the girl or the other Myrian. She eyed the girl, from head to foot, and approved of the inherent strength and confidence she sensed in one so young and...small. Her lips worked, almost to a smile, before she turned her gaze to the bald warrior.

“Siiri, of the Snapping Jaws,” she said as way of introduction, addressing both but only clasping arms with the Myrian, a greeting between warriors. Her grip was strong and firm but the contact was quick. She nodded at him and much understanding passed between them, her gesture a form of thanks for doing his duty in maintaining eyes on the deyhan. One had to be sure of an outsider's purpose within the city, even if they were let through by the gate guards. She did not dismiss him, knowing that two sets of eyes were better than one in watching over the city's guests.

“You speak our tongue well, for a deyhan. But you do not look as if you walk the streets of Taloba often. What is it that brought you here?”

Her words were automatic, lacking harshness or judgment. It was reactionary, ingrained in every Myrian born and raised in Taloba. Aggression and hostility were reserved for outsiders encountered outside, in the jungle. Those that made it to the city – or rather, those who were allowed in the city with their free will – have already proven that the Myrians could afford them a certain level of trust. That did not mean they had free run of the place however. Siiri was merely making sure the stranger before her did not intend to go to places restricted to Myrians.

[Pua]

Pua’s grin split his face and he threw back his head and let loose a booming laugh. This girl had quite a cheeky streak it seemed, he liked that. She showed quite a bit of spunk, though it seemed that she had misinterpreted Pua’s question just a little. Oh well. As Pua’s old fang leader had used to say; “no blood, no report.” During the pause of conversation generated by the woman’s reply, Pua took the time to study more closely the deyhan. He was having a hard time getting over how short she was, and had to continually correct himself from thinking of her as a child. Her grace of movement and the experience behind those golden eyes gave truer indication of her maturity. The spear slung cross her back was carried with a fluidity that spoke of one long aquatinted with the weapon, or one similar, she was clearly well versed in its use. Though he didn’t think it would come to it, Pua made a note to attempt to prevent her from unlimbering the polearm, should the encounter turn violent. Pua also couldn’t help but noticed the curves that no girl would posses, but he pushed those thoughts away. Best to make sure that killing was unnecessary before indulging more amicable thoughts.

Pua’s inspection of the deyhan was intruded upon as the female warrior resumed the conversation. He returned Siiri’s arm clasp with a firm but friendly grip, implying the peace between them but not offering subservience. He was please the warrioress had accepted him so readily, most soldiers thought less of him for his outrageous hairstyle and smaller stature. Pua disliked wasting time proving he was indeed their equal. “Pua, of the Spirit Falcons,” he answered the unspoken question for his name. formalities included, he stepped back a step. Ostensibly this was to grant Siiri the lead in the conversation, but in truth it allowed him to place the deyhan between Siiri and himself. As a scout and warrior, Pua’s ingrained combat tactics manifested even within the peace of Taloba’s market.

When he was sure Siiri had finished talking, he offered his own words for the young blond. As she had demonstrated a firm grasp of the Myrian tongue, if with a slight, intriguing, accent, Pua felt no need to switch back to Basic. “My apologies young one, I did not intend to imply that you were owned. I simply was inquiring if you had been separated from your guide and were in need of assistance.” Deyhan, when granted the privilege of entering Taloba without an escort were all supposed to be assigned a ‘guide’, though the word was generally used strictly for the benefit of the outsider. The ‘guide’s’ true purpose was to monitor and guard the deyhan during their time within the city.

[Vhana]

Vhana blinked her confusion. The young woman had not yet encountered others that didn't know she was Kelvic. The blonde had grown up with a man who was Bonded to several, and whenever he'd traveled (even if it was only rarely) into Taloba, everybody else knew what they were, too. Perhaps Vhana was ignorant in her assumption that people could spot a Kelvic by mere sight alone, but it could be forgiven of her if only because Vhana was so very sheltered. The span of her years was so very different from everyone else's; a week was not simply a week to a Kelvic. A year for many could be the entire summation of a lifetime.

All that she knew, all that she believed, had been developed in a little under five years. For most others, that was the age of a child. A child that had only barely begun to learn, to grow. Nobody would ever suspect that of Vhana, who by all appearances looked every inch the adult. (Or close enough to it!) And what five year old could wield a spear with the same level of skill as she!? No, in Vhana there lie a contradiction...the fatal flaw, perhaps, of the ancient professor's desperate endeavor? She was both a girl and a woman, cunning and deadly, misguided and naïve.

Looking between Pua and Siiri, after they'd each introduced themselves, Vhana pursed her lips. They hadn't exactly...introduced themselves to her, just each other. Her mind was made up instantly, however, and regardless of whether they wanted to know her name, she'd speak it.

One day, the world would roar it.

“Vhana Rhatelo,” she said, eyes of molten gold staring out at them. Black the Elder had once told her that he honestly didn't know how she came by the name, but that she had always called herself as such, and he had not been inclined to change it. Vhana knew other names, though, one disparaging and the other spoken in hushed voices of disbelief and even fear.

“And I was never a slave,” the young woman declared with confidence. A quick lowering of her lashes hid any sense of doubt, however. Weren't slaves and Kelvics synonymous with one another? A question Vhana could not yet answer, though she was in search for it. “I am Kelvic,” said with the same measure of pride, because no one should ever be able to detect weakness.

Canting her head to one side as Pua asked about her guide, her confusion was easy to see. “Before,” she said, addressing each of them. “We came with no guide, for I was Bonded to a Myrian.” That was no doubt why Vhana did not understand why she'd need a guide – assuming that Pua was under the impression she didn't know her way around. “I wasn't given a guide.”

Shrugging her shoulders almost apologetically, unable to offer them a better answer. Vhana turned her body ever so slightly, to direct her next response more towards Siiri, since she had been the one to ask. It was another answer with she was not entirely pleased with, but found herself unable to give anything better.

“I- I don't know if this will make sense,” she admitted, lifting a surprisingly dainty hand to touch to her cheek. “But I'm not sure what I hoped to find here Taloba.” Well, she hoped to find answers, but since Vhana didn't even know what her questions were, she didn't feel ready to admit it to either of these strangers. For a brief moment, the blonde feared that the both of them would be angry with her, and insist that she leave. Vhana squared her shoulders, and held her head high. These were Myrians, each born and bred warriors, and Vhana wanted them to know that she was the same, and not some scared little girl.