PM to join A Wintry Marvel

[Khida]

Winter 13, 512 av early morning The morning dawned gray and dim, the sky shrouded in a layer of fluffy clouds. Syna could not be seen, though her influence could definitely be detected in the lightening environment; Khida could clearly distinguish the horses from the earth, and the sky had become pale-gray rather than dark. The overcast itself was not remarkable, but to the falcon Kelvic, the steady fall of what seemed to be pieces of the very clouds themselves was foreign and bizarre. She could see that the clouds had been shedding for some time, as a thin layer of the white stuff lay over grass and tents alike, even dusting the horses with pale powder where they stood. She had at first flown above to survey the encampment, determining that the falling white bits were no impediment to flight -- less so even than rain, as they seemed to for the most part slide off her feathers, where raindrops might eventually overcome the natural waterproofing and soak in to chill her skin. Then she had descended to earth and shifted, learning firsthand how cold the innocuous white powder was. A trail of footprints marked her progress, a line which began in the middle of nothing rather than at the door of a tent, and which was clearly made by someone barefoot. Khida walked only a short distance in the stuff, feeling how it clung to her feet, chill sinking in teeth which she knew would gradually numb the skin. The cold air was only a little gentler, raising goosebumps across her entirely bare skin, but she thought it wouldn't be a danger -- not for the brief period of her intended investigation. When she flew out to hunt, as she soon would, she'd be warm enough right quick. The dark-haired woman reached up a hand to catch some of the falling flakes, noticing how they melted when they came in contact with the heat of her skin, rubbing the resultant liquid between her fingers. So it was water. Cold water, not like rain at all. More like the ice-pellets which had sometimes fallen during grassland thunderstorms, but much smaller and more delicate.

[Joss Hawkeye]

The light snow that fell from the grey vault of the sky was far less novel and intriguing to Joss. He didn’t necessarily resent the frozen flakes that powdered his dark hair briefly, before melting to make the outer layer of it damp. And snow was certainly an ally when it came to hunting, as he was intent upon doing this day. The tracks of prey would be that much more apparent. Yet at the same time, many animals would seek cover to escape the cold flecks. To the young man, snow was just…snow, and he lived with it and through it and under it as he did rain and wind and the blazing heat of summer. Weather was part of life and to be reckoned into the daily equation of what might be possible and what would have to wait. Squinting up at the sky, he gauged that the light fall would continue on at least for a while and they could see some accumulation, though he was no expert at reading the clouds and winds. As he left his grandfather’s pavilion, he gave a whistle and Lydi came right to him. She must have stuck close through the night, undoubtedly predicting the weather better than all but the most expert of men.

Joss gave the mare a warm smile and patted her neck, moving about to brush off a few snowflakes from her back. He hoisted the Yvas he had brought out with him onto her shoulders and secured them, then easily vaulted up with a gracefulness that came of many years of practice. With a nudge, he moved her down a winding path between the tents until they reached the outskirts of the moving city, intent upon checking the snares he had set the afternoon before.

The two had not gone far when Joss noted the sudden appearance of footsteps, as if some ethereal spirit had descended with the snow and taken on a corporeal body to walk upon the earth. He peered through the grey air and not far distant he made out a form. Lydi carried him forward and within another few steps he saw the girl, unclothed, with one arm extended upwards, as if wishing to return to the air from which she apparently had come. Lydi came to a halt and Joss slid from her back, looking at the girl and then looking up, only to be rewarded with a snowflake landing right in his eye. Blinking, he asked, “What are you looking at?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on the slender form and he tried to ignore more ignoble thoughts and added, “Are you alright? You must be freezing.”

[Khida]

The young woman turned as the horse approached, giving both steed and rider a contemplative scrutiny, her head canting to one side. Her eyes were a bright amber, her gaze intensely direct. For her part, she seemed all but immune to the Drykas' wandering gaze -- or else too preoccupied to even notice. The horse stopped close by and the rider dismounted, which Khida met with aplomb; though she kept a cautious eye on him, she didn't seem to be too concerned at his approach, despite her unclothed state. He spoke words she didn't understand, though the Kelvic recognized them clearly as Pavi -- and that he was asking questions. She shook her head, not in negation, but in the slower, almost dismissive, cadence of one not understanding. She then held out her hand to the stranger, palm towards him and fingers splayed, but saw that the tiny snowflakes caught on her skin had all but melted in that time. That wouldn't do at all. Khida dropped down into a crouch and scooped up some of the white dust from where it blanketed the grasses, getting several old brown stalks along with it. She then straightened back up and held this handful out to the Drykas man, steadfastly ignoring the way her muscles wanted to shiver. Question first. "What is this?" she asked in Common, straight to the point and skipping social niceties altogether. Of course, success somewhat hinged on whether he understood Common...

[Joss Hawkeye]

Joss had spoken with the language of the plains, a mixture of vocalization embellished with hand and facial gestures. But the response didn’t come back as he might have expected. Of course, given that he was a bit perplexed as to what this young woman’s situation was in the first place, it might have occurred to him to put his questions to her in the common tongue of Mizahar, instead of his native Pavi. It might have, but it didn’t, taken off guard as he was by her odd behavior, and lack of any sort of protection from the cold. The only reply she gave him, initially, was a shake of the head and an outstretched palm, and Joss actually looked closely at her hand, scrutinizing it for some sort of wound or injury. But he saw nothing and his dark eyes flicked back to her amber ones, questioning still further.

However, she was already dropping down, to crouch above the dry, bent grasses that cradled handfuls of white feathery flakes. Scooping some up, she rose and held it out, like an offering. Her question to him, posed in the tongue most inhabitants of the world could understand, at least in rudimentary ways, did little to enlighten his puzzlement over what she was doing out here, naked, in the cold. He frowned, and only after a moment of looking from her hand to her face, did the light begin to dawn.

“Snow,” he replied in the same language that she had employed. “It’s snow. Haven’t you ever seen it before?”

For some reason, his mind wandered for a brief moment to the land of his father, whoever that bastard was. That nameless, faceless specter who had planted an unwanted seed in his mother’s womb. It was a land of sun and sand and heat, and Joss knew that in Eyktol, the snow did not fall. He thought the same was probably true for most of Falyndar. So assuredly there were many who walked the earth who might never have seen the frozen precipitation. But for some reason, it seemed odd to think of anyone from a place like that to be here, now, standing in the midst of gently falling white, unclothed and yet to all visible signs, unaffected by being so.

So he asked once more, decidedly curious now, “Aren’t you cold?”

[Khida]

"Snow," she echoed. The word seemed vaguely familiar, something she might have heard before but never really listened to. Khida shook the clinging wet stuff from her hand, then shuddered as her body's reaction to the cold finally overrode her conscious curiosity towards the snow. Calling her unaffected by the cold would in truth be overstating; beneath its natural olive pigment, her skin was distinctly pale. But she endured it, as she had in times past endured hunger or rain; conditions which would change, eventually, for the better. At least this one was under her control. "It's cold," the young woman agreed matter-of-factly as her shivers subsided again, drawing in a breath and crossing her arms over her chest as if in futile defense against the chill. "Cold like the desert night. Maybe more cold than that," she mused, toeing at the white stuff around her feet, then holding her foot up a bit above the snow to examine the distinct bluish cast it was developing. "Too cold for skin, either way," she continued, "and time for hunting besides. I won't stay too long," she assured the man, though it was probably too much to expect him not to worry. "It's almost like pieces of the clouds falling. Does it do this all winter here?" she asked, turning slightly to look out over the white-frosted grasslands. Then something else occurred to her, and the Kelvic turned back towards her companion. "What is Pavi for snow?" Khida prompted. If she was going to get a new word in one language, she might as well get it in the other, too.

[Joss Hawkeye]

The girl shivered and Joss saw that, indeed, she wasn’t untouched by the cold of the frozen flakes, or the plunging temperature that had formed them, or her state of undress. She agreed with his own assessment of the day, though phrasing it in terms of the ambient conditions themselves, and not her own personal chilled state. The rest of what she said had him puzzled again, his ears catching at three words primarily – desert, skin, and hunting. The former seemed to confirm that her lack of familiarity with snow came from some association of her past with the desert – Eyktol, almost certainly, and that piqued his curiosity a fair bit. But even a desert dweller would know to put on clothes when it was cold. So the middle word that had caught his ear made him wonder – especially at her syntax. Too cold for skin? Well, surely, yes, it was – so why not throw on a dress, a tunic, some pants, a coat or cloak? This seemed a very odd sort of experimentation – almost that of one demented. And the latter word she had used made him consider that perhaps she really was moonstruck. This girl didn’t seriously intend to go hunting? In the snow – naked?

So it was that he ignored her question and said only, *“You aren’t really going to go hunting? You’ll freeze!” His fingers had already moved to the tie of the cloak thrown about his shoulders. “Here, you’re shivering. Put this on, and come back to my mother’s pavilion. She – she can find something for you to wear, I’m sure.”

Although, what his mother would think of this poor, demented naked creature, Joss couldn’t even begin to imagine. But his mother, being the kind and loving soul that she was, would surely take her in and feed her and find her some clothes. Then they’d need to figure out who she belonged to. Surely someone was at this moment worried out of their minds for this lost, loony girl.

*assume he is speaking in common

[Khida]

He didn't respond to her latest questions, or acknowledge them in any way. Instead, he held out his cloak and invited her back to the pavilion. Khida tipped her head to one side, studying the garment and the boy who offered it for a long moment. If they were out of the snow, and he wasn't worried about cold anymore, maybe then she could get him to teach her Pavi words. It seemed worth trying, at any rate; ultimately, she reached out to take the cloak from him, draping it over her own shoulders and tying it closed. Evidently, the young woman was familiar with such things. "I wouldn't freeze," Khida contested, sounding rather offended by the thought. "But I'll come." She turned to look over her shoulder at the rising sun, or rather, the brighter patch of clouds which approximated its position. "Only for a little while. We hunt every morning." Turning back, she started walking along the horse's trail, presuming that the other end was somewhere near the pavilion he mentioned. There were definitely some advantages to this snow stuff. "You did not answer my questions," the Kelvic continued as she walked, relentless in her interest. "The Pavi word for snow," she restated, in case he hadn't heard it the first time. She was willing to presume that for now. "And how often it snows in the grasslands."

[Joss Hawkeye]

Joss felt some relief when she accepted his offer, although it seemed she had given a good bit of consideration before she did so. Still, it just seemed…better, somehow, to see her tying his cloak under her chin. He could not with truth say that he was completely glad that her body was now covered, in terms of the view. He was a young man and naturally the sight of a naked female body had certain affects on his physiology. But he was glad to think that at least now she had some protection from the weather, and that if she did accompany him back to his pavilion, at least she wouldn’t be buck naked. He wouldn’t feel quite so awkward bringing her to his mother then.

And it seemed that she was going to accept that part of his offer as well, though she seemed to think that her state of exposure would not bring her to any harm. He could disagree with that view, but he kept his peace, thinking that sometimes it took a gentle touch and a quiet demeanor to calm the demons that whirled inside those who were mad. The girl turned to look to the sunrise, such as it was, hidden behind the cloud cover, and once again said that she must hunt – only she used the plural “we.” Again, Joss didn’t outright challenge her – in that – to his eye, at least – she was alone, except for himself and Lydi. He only nodded, and replied, “As you please. But first, let’s get you some clothes.” He began to wonder if it would be necessary to physically keep her from running back into the snow, if she changed her mind, or if he even had the right, or perhaps the obligation, to do so. But she seemed content for now to walk back towards the edge of the tent city. Joss noted that she was within her wits enough to simply follow Lydi’s hoof prints back the way they had come.

Joss fell in beside her and Lydi fell in beside him and the three walked at a sedate pace. Joss letting the girl choose how fast they went. With no apparent concern for anything but the flakes that continued to fall around them, she repeated her question. This time, as he felt more comfortable with her acquiescence to returning to his family’s tent, he replied readily enough, this time using the Pavi word.

“Snow,” he said, adding the hand gesture, his fingers wiggling as his hand moved downwards before him. Without thinking, he continued on in that same language, his hands and fingers and face moving along with the words. “It’s not so common this far south. This is unusual. The closer we travel to Eyktol, the less often we see it.” He then pointed north. “In Syliras, and in the north of Cyphrus, it snows much more. In some places it snows so much it lays on the earth taller than a man’s head. And further north still the land lies frozen and there are great blizzards all the time.”

He finally looked at her again and said in Common, “Did you understand? Do you speak Pavi? I’m sorry, I forgot.” His brow furrowed, and he asked, “Where are you from? Who are your people?”

[Khida]

Khida glanced sidelong at the man's typical human insistence on clothes. In this weather, they did make sense to wear -- but as she had said, she wouldn't stay human so long as that, anyway. He fell in beside her, the horse following behind, not correcting her route; apparently her inference was right, and the horse's trail would lead them back to his pavilion. This time, at her prompting, he spoke in Pavi. Snow she understood, but the other words which followed after it were too fast and unfamiliar for the Kelvic to catch. She frowned as he spoke on; and when he at last recollected the language of their conversation, Khida could only shake her head. "No. I understood snow," she replied. "That is 'snow'. The rest had too many words I don't know. But you will explain them to me?" she added, question accompanied by a half-hopeful look towards the Drykas. He went on to ask where she came from, and Khida glanced towards the south and west. "I was born in Ahnatep, if that's what you mean to ask." She said it with no particular inflection, no impression of like or dislike towards the city -- though there, at least, she had never numbed her feet with cold. The question of people, however, brought another frown to the young woman's face -- a contemplative, slightly bemused expression. After walking a short while in silence, she waved a hand to indicate the tents they walked between. "'People' like Drykas? I do not have a 'people'."

[Joss Hawkeye]

He felt a bit foolish, that he had babbled on when he should have realized from their first exchange that she wasn’t fluent in Pavi. But she certainly seemed interested in learning some of his mother tongue – further evidence that she really was not from the grasslands. He nodded, saying, “I can teach you, if you wish it.” Joss wasn’t really thinking about his own intention to go out and check his snares, and search for any other game that might be out and about. Her request had seemed to encompass something more long range…maybe? But right now he just wanted to get her somewhere warm, and figure out who she was and where she belonged. Patiently and without any irritation, he repeated what he had said a moment before in Common, answering her questions about snow.

Then in answer to his question she confirmed what he had guessed. She was from the south, from the land of his father. Joss looked at her, knowing how he had come to be living as a Drykas, and wondering what this girl’s story was. It explained her unfamiliarity with snow, but still did nothing to account for her lack of clothing. Her response to his second question was more ambivalent, for she seemed to not have any affinity with a race, or perhaps she associated ‘people’ with family, or clan? Instead of feeling more enlightened as they conversed, Joss found this girl to be a growing enigma. She was frowning in an effort to comprehend him – or so he took her expression to mean – and he frowned too, looking at her thoughtfully.

“Yes…I suppose that is what I meant,” he said, this time in Common. “You are from Ahnatep – who were your father’s people, or your mother’s? What race – Benshira? Eypharian? Or were they… brought there from somewhere else?” He didn’t come right out and ask her if her people had been slaves. That seemed impolite, as if he would think less of her then – which he assuredly would not. If not for the decisive action of his uncles, he and his mother would have no doubt suffered from that fate. He despised the Eypharians for it. Yet the Drykas themselves kept slaves, so it wasn’t something shocking or totally foreign to his way of thinking.

He hadn’t realized that he had come to a halt, as he was speaking to her – looking at her with great curiosity. “What has brought you here? To Endrykas?” There was of course the possibility that she was a slave, and that could surely be one reason why she would feel that she had no group that she belonged to. But he could not forget the way her footprints just…materialized, in the fresh fallen snow…

Joss gave her an open, frank look, as he asked, “How did you come here? Did you fall from the sky? I saw your footprints – first not there, and then…there. What are you?”