Kids Will Be Kids (Ronan)

[Jaspayia]

Timestamp: Winter 45, 496 Time: Morning Who: Ronan Windsong Three pairs of tracks could be seen carving through the northern sands of Eyktol. The first belonged to a tall Chaktawe man, strong, carrying a massive pack filled with various furs and crafts to trade. There was another set of tracks taking a winding path all around the general area of the man's, being followed by a third, and much smaller set of tracks. It appeared that a woman and her child were playing a game of cat and mouse, with the young girl being the cat, stalking her mother. Jaspayia was scrutinizing the tracks of her mother, following them as fast as she could, without losing count. Her mom was teaching her to be an extraordinary hunter and her first task was to keep an accurate count of how many left footed tracks, and how many right footed tracks her mother left behind. Her mother wasn't making it easy either. She would hop several times on one foot, or step with her right foot in place of her left. This forced Jasp to concentrate hard on the task at hand. 265 Left, 233 right, 266 left, 267 left, 268 left, 234 righ--- wait no, 269 left, 234 right, 270 left, 235 right Jasp had been following the tracks under Syna's beating gaze for several bells. Her parents and her had been traveling for several days, en route to Endrykas, camped out near the border. Her ebony eyes followed her mother's steps, trying to pay attention to the tracks, as well as the path ahead. She was just starting to get used to watching both, when a weird set of tracks caught her eyes, stopping her suddenly. Those weren't her mother's feet! They were wider, with longer toes, but shorter overall. She crouched down, her hand touching the unusual track. It was bigger than her ha-- They were hands! Her mom was walking on her hands to trick her! One left hand, one right hand, two left hand, two right hand. Following it along, counting she bumped into her mother, and fell down into the sand. "Always mind your surroundings Jaspayia. How many tracks?" "Uh... 275 Left feet... 245 right feet... 78 left hands... and 81 right hands." "Close love, not quite. You'll get it on the way back, I'm sure of it. Now come on, we are almost there." The two girls met back up with the patriarch, as they reached the area of the desert where sand gave way to a crest of grass. Her parents had no problem climbing over the lip, but it was taller than Jasp. She knew her parents wouldn't help her to climb this obstacle, knowing that every day was another challenge. To some, it would be quite humorous seeing a seven year old girl stare up at the the lip that was a foot above her head. She tried jumping up and grasping at the short turfs there, but was unable to find purchase. Her parents didn't wait on her, knowing their daughter would catch up. Jasp turned and jogged a ways back away from the ledge. Then she turned once more, and began sprinting toward the border. Her webbed feet kicked up granules of sand, her arms flying inexpertly like a proper child. As she neared the ledge, she pushed off hard with her right leg, leaping forward. Her stomach collided hard with the edge, an undignified grunt escaping her youthful lips, her arms scrambling to get a hold of something. She grabbed a few handfuls of the tough grass, and struggled as she tried to pull herself up and over. She hooked a leg over the edge, and struggled until she rolled over, successful, her breathing labored. She got up and ran after her parents, who smiled as their daughter caught up. After a couple of bells of walking, they were approached by a watchman. Her parents told him they were here for trade, and he let them pass. Jaspayia's eyes grew wide. There were more tents here than she'd ever seen! Even among her own tribes! And there were horses everywhere! Her parents quickly made their way to some merchants, and Jasp waited until they were busy haggling. When they were, she carefully snuck away, slipping amongst a crowd of people. Her antics hadn't escaped the ever watchful eye of her father, but he smiled. He knew the Drykas had ways of making sure nothing bad happened to visitors, and his daughter could use some independence. It was good for a Chaktawe to explore their surroundings. Meanwhile, Jaspayia was slipping between the crowds, until she bumped hard into someone, and fell back on her rump. She looked up to see who it was, her ebony eyes shining under Syna's smile.

[Ronan]

Ronan was ten years old. Just finding his stride as a Drykas, he was full of dreams, but an earthiness that would prevail throughout his life kept him rooted. Much of his days were spent out in the grasses with his brother, learning to track and to hunt, to watch and one day to fight. He was still too young to learn the dagger properly, so his brother Darus told him, but he yearned to learn all the same. The sun beat down on Cyphrus as Ronan bumbled around a bustling Endrykas. Close to the border with Ekytol, merchants and traders had arrived in the cloth city, having been allowed near by the Watchers and into the great Web of the Drykas. One day, his father said he would teach Ronan the Drykas Magick of Webbing. Lost in his own curious musings, he smashed into somebody, stumbling backwards for a moment but retaining his balance with wild windmilling arms. Looking down his eyes fell upon a strange looking girl. She was one of them. One of the southerners. The Drykas spoke indifferently of them. Many were pleased by their trade, but there were other whisperings of their strange customs and ways. Even at ten, Ronan's mind worked in a way that he reserved judgement before understanding something. He smiled and offered a hand to help lift the girl up. He spoke in patchy common. He could get by with it, but it was Pavi he had a proper grasp of. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

[Jaspayia]

Jaspayia looked up, her translucent eyelids sliding in place to block out Syna's powerful rays, her gaze blurring as the long eyelashes of her people fluttered. She saw a blur move step in front of Syna, and her eyelids slid back open, a young boy, hand extended down toward her appearing in perfect detail. It was a young Drykas, but older than herself, and taller, offering to help her up after they ran into each other. She almost smiled, but stifled it down, in the way of the Chaktawe, and took his big hand, pulling herself up and dusting her rump off. She looked up at the boy, and didn't say thank you, but nodded in appreciation. "It's okay!" She quickly checked to make sure she had everything, a habit taught by both parents. Losing one precious tool could mean death in the desert. She had her waterskin dangling from the waist on the left hip of her feathered skirt. Her knife hung from her right hip, hollow cap still tightened. She pulled off her camouflaged pack, and checked all of the contents. Everything seemed to be there, her second waterskin, flint, steel, tinder, and toiletries. Her parents made sure she was always prepared, every day since she was old enough to start learning these things, in case they were ever separated. Repacking, she slung it over back once more, and pulled the waterskin from her hip, took a deep swig, and offered it to the boy, "May Makutsi bless you."

[Ronan]

Ronan smiled as the girl dusted herself off. He couldn't help but peer at her with curiosity. The look was similar to that of the young dogs in the camp, the ones that watched from afar as food was cooked on the fire. When she offered him her water, he thought for a moment, then accepted it gratefully, taking a small sip. The sun was hot, and the Drykas took whatever water they could get when this far south in the Run. "Thank you," he said, passing the waterskin back into those exotic hands. "are you one of the people from the south?" Makutsi? He had never heard the name before, though he guessed it was a God. He knew little of the deities, other than the Earth Mother, Semele. "and who is... Makutsi?" Ronan pronounced the name awkwardly.