Afterwards (Ayatah)

The hunt is over, the beast is slain... but that was but the beginning

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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Razkar on January 22nd, 2013, 6:46 pm

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The ambush was flawless, but it was not always so simple and quick to usher a being into Dira's arms. The boar were tough, especially the grizzled old male. Razkar's arrow found its mark in the females side, and by the red froth he knew a lung was pierced. She floundered and reared back to run-

-and Urap's spear skewered her like... well, a pig over a spit.

The impact of it knocked her on her side and she lay there, kicking feebly, squealing through froth and bile and blood. The rear female was already a pincushion, spear and arrow in either side, the former swinging around wildly as she turned in confusion and pain-

-before another arrow smacked into her neck and blood fountained onto the mud.

An almighty squeal that was more rage than pain, and Razkar's head snapped to the male. His beady, furious eyes were fixed on Ayatah now, an enemy he had finally found and could focus on. Even with three arrows in him he was still dangerous, head and tusks lowered, stubby but powerful legs churning towards her-

Panic seized him. Not the fear of combat or a wild beast. He knew what that felt like. This was... ice. Not just cold, but a solid, frozen lump in the pit of his soul, at the sight of someone dear to him in harm's way. Without thinking he swung his bow around, arrow already notched, and let fly.

Just as she did.

As one, the two arrows slammed into his head and neck and he finally went down. The Myrians closed quickly, unsheathing daggers and short axes and ended the pigs' suffering with quick, precise blows. Razkar walked to the panting, bleeding male, fat tongue lolling out, and jammed Ayatah's dagger into his brain.

"Go on to the next world, and find peace."

The jungle didn't even seem to notice the passing of three of its children. There were the squawks of surprised birds, but the insects barely slowed and as soon as the last, pitiful squealing had ended, the birds resumed their song. Six Myrians stood around for a brief chime, eyes sliding from the bloody boars to each other... and fierce satisfaction was plastered over their dark faces.

Well, mostly dark faces, Razkar thought, and turned to the paler Ayatah. Unconsciously checking her for injuries, once he knew she wasn't, he allowed himself to relax... because they weren't done yet.

"Alright, you know what to do."

Mayura spoke and grunted as she pulled hr spear from the carcass of the rear pig. She and Urap would use their long weapons as poles to carry their kills, much like Razkar and Ayatah did with their tiger yesterday. But they, like then, would have to find...

He blinked, and his woman was already searching for an suitable limb on the jungle floor. Razkar smiled softly with quiet pride and went about pulling the arrows from the carcasses, flicking off gore and blood and fur and restoring them to quivers. Nothing would be wasted out here; the jungle was not forgiving of the slothful or careless.

A chime later he turned to rustling and found Ayatah dragging a limb from the floor, perfectly long enough to carry their kill. Urap and Telio were keeping watch, eyes keen for enemies or predators seeking to claim their spoils. Mayura had finished binding the feet of her pig, and her eyes flicked to Ayatah.

It was a small gesture, but Razkar saw it. Even under the half-light from the canopy a hundred feet above them, he saw the odd little grimace, the eyebrows shoot up and down quickly, and the slight nod. She was quietly impressed.

Razkar bent down and continued his work. It hid his smile very well.
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Ayatah on January 22nd, 2013, 8:25 pm

ImageThe old boy still had some life left in him, and some of that attitude as well. But wild pigs were famously determined and aggressive when provoked.

And the three arrows had certainly provoked the boar.

It had rolled onto its feet, snapping the arrow that was embedded into it’s stomach, and come hurtling towards Ayatah. Despite being considerably smaller (and less dangerous) than the tiger yesterday, those tusks would still be able to slice open a Myrian’s leg - especially one as lank as Ayatah’s.

An arrow was notched and released.

It thudded into the hog’s neck, and she was surprised to see that another arrow implanted itself into the boar’s head in unison with her own. Looking over to where it had come from, her dark eyes softened and her lips creased into a faint smile when she saw that it had been Razkar who had been the other shot. It was both relieving and touching to know that he had been watching over her. She mimed a ‘thank you’ in his direction - and silently thanked Myri for him.

"Go on to the next world, and find peace."

Her attention remained on Razkar as he finally let the boar die. When she had been a young girl, it had been hard for her to see how an animal whined and fell and twitched after being shot by arrows. But a quick death from the hand of her people was the most humane way to end the suffering. The Myrian’s were a brutal people, but they respected the balance of life and death, as well as Caiyha’s children of plant and beast. Without them, their people who have no jungle to live in, and no food.

"Alright, you know what to do."

She was quick learner - she’d always been at the top of her classes much to the disgruntlement of her peers. Before the words had even left the other woman’s lips, Ayatah’s head was down, her eyes drifting to and fro as she searched the earth for a suitable…

There.

A tree branch. It was far smaller than the one yesterday that had carried a tiger, but still wide enough to easily carry a wild hog, and long enough for two people to balance on their shoulders. She pulled the thick branch over the green of the forest floor, stopping when she reached the big male hog.

”Should be easier than yesterday’s job.” She said, glancing towards Razkar with a smile. Her shoulder was still sore from carrying the great tiger - the beast had certainly weighed… a lot. But the aches and pains that shot through her body every now and then were like fond memories of what they had accomplished together. Ayatah appreciated hard work, like all Myrians. She appreciated a completed goal even more.


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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Razkar on January 22nd, 2013, 9:52 pm

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"Sonofa-!"

Zek bit his tongue just in time. His youngest daughter's head whipped round to see what her father was about to say and he'd learned before not to provide any interesting and "colorful" words to his children. The females would give him all hells about it. So he sucked his thumb for a chime instead.

"Father?"

She had to speak up of course: he was a good ten feet above her, balanced on a beam that would form half the roof of the new longhouse. He looked down at her and just smiled, shaking his head.

"Nothing, darling."

"Do you want me to get one of the boys?"

"Why?"

"Well, you said son, so-"


The rest Zek didn't hear, mainly because he was laughing. Then movement from the west caught his eye, and the treeline disgorged six sweaty Myrians... and they carried three boars between them, dangling upside down. Already there were whoops of approval from other Shorn Skulls, and he saw his son raise his bow in recognition of their approval.

Zek noted his own approval: that he was carrying his kill with his woman. He did not fully know or trust this outsider from the Shattered Bones, but she certainly had not proved herself unworthy of his trust. But Zek was like most old-school Myrians, male or female. Trust was a precious thing that only Goddess and clan deserved. Anyone else had one chance, just one...

And woe betide any fool who betrayed it.

"Razkar!" Zafi said joyfully, leg already pounding mud to greet her brother. "He's back!"

"Yes." Zek said with approval, climbing down with surprising speed for a male of his age. His eyes flickered upwards. Barely ast the middle of the day. "Earlier than expected, too. And he's bought dinner..."
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Ayatah on January 22nd, 2013, 10:50 pm

ImageThe greeting for clan members - or guests, in Ayatah’s case - who bought food was always a welcome one. And it was an equally joyful image to see the huts and hear the voices floating through the jungle when one was returning with a kill.

It had been a successful hunt, and certainly time efficient. As the boars were rested on the ground, Ayatah stepped back to allow the rest of the Shorn Skulls to admire the kills. Twisting her shoulder around, her spine gave a satisfying crack and she nodded contentedly. It was a rewarding feeling, the way her joints ached ever so slightly and how her calves felt tight from the walk back to the village. It meant she had been successful.

I have bought two meals to them in two nights, Goddess hopes that is enough to win at least some favour… She thought as she rubbed her shoulder.

”Myrian enough, do you think?” She asked quiwetly whilst sidling up to Razkar, smirking. She so wanted the Shorn Skulls to approve of her. If they did, then --

Then what? A voice in her mind demanded straight away.

Then our options are open. The two of them were young, with Razkar still undergoing his military service - so there was certainly no chance of them taking further steps in their… relationship any time soon. But if both of their clans accepted the pairing, then at least the two of them could simply wait and see to what the future bought to them without any difficulties or… bloodshed.

Of course - he had not met any of the Scattered Bones, and winning their approval was like to be even more difficult. Being female, it would be Ayatah who would continue the Scattered Bones’ name and traditions, and there was a chance (albeit minute) that she would one day head the clan in her elderly days, as her Great Grandmother did so now. And because of the matriarchal ways of their society, the girls and women were the prized possessions of a clan.

So when they bought home a male, he damned sure best on his best behaviour. Despite their casual attitudes towards physical intimacies, anything more than simply intercourse within a relationship was dealt with seriously. The gentleman in question may one day father future members of the clan, so his characteristics, strengths, even weaknesses, would be inspected oh-so carefully.

And my family is particularly protective. she considered. Her mother was so for obvious reasons - she had raised Ayatah as a single mother, and so the last thing she wanted to see was her daughter find a poor match. And then her cousins - especially Bennik with his ridiculous need to fill whatever father-shaped void he thought Ayatah lacked. The two were similar ages, and since Ayatah was a young girl, it had been her cousin who taught her how to kick mean boys in the groin. When she had grown into a young woman, and those mean boys started to pay her a different type of attention, it had been him that did the kicking.



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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Razkar on January 23rd, 2013, 2:29 am

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”Myrian enough, do you think?"

Razkar took advantage of the hubbub around them and entwined his fingers with Ayatah's, hands behind her back. He squeezed them gently and took in the view. Of her... and his clan.

The children amused him the most, short, lithe brown beings running around the massive dead boar, it's mouth hanging open and tusks glinting in the light. His sister actually led a small knot of them edging closer... closer... egged on by some of the girls... and she touched it.

Then jerked away squealing, but beaming. Only sh was brave enough.

"Fine work." One of his aunts said, nodding his head sagely... up until he swayed his head to the side at her husband. "But I remember his sister bringing in bigger."

Razkar swallowed that, and Ayatah felt his hand squeeze hers just a touch harder. All his life he'd been swallowing that. He often wondered, in those bad, traitorous moments, how much... better it much be for the males in the barbarian tribes beyond the jungle. Was it easier? To not have every compliment you'd ever been paid not end with "for a male".

But when she turned to look at his face, there was a smile on it. They were his clan. He could forgive them nearly everything...

And then he leaned in close to her and muttered into her ear: "I don't see her bringing home a nice, plump boar."

His aunt scowled when she tittered but before a question could be launched, Lowax was making her way through the small crowd, her voice in a scold that had been putting the fear of Myri into Myrians since far, far before Razkar was born.

"Shoo, shoo! You all have work to do! Yersha, take the animals, and have some of the males joint and gut them. Our hunting party did well." Razkar's aunt nodded obediently and corralled a half-dozen males around her, the whole group carrying the fresh kills to cover. Them Lowax turned to the close couple. "You remember what I said earlier?"

"I fix the nets."
Razkar said, reluctantly letting go of his woman's hand. "Ayatah fetches water."

"Then I suggest you get to it."


He watched her go and wondered idly if she had the respect of his clan yet. Probably not; they were notoriously stingy with it. But she had helped in the hunt, through every part of it, and with her aid they had bought home enough meat for two days and three fresh skins for clothing. Oh, and there was the small matter of the tiger she'd bought back with him the day before...

Razkar smiled as Zek patted his shoulder, motioning to the creek.

"Let's go."

They did, Razkar lugging a heavy jar the size of his torso with him, but his mind didn't stop so easily. How would it be with her clan? Harder, he'd guess. Males were always... distrusted? Was that an accurate term? Well, they certainly weren't as examined as closely as the females. They were naturally assumed to be worthy of a male.

He shook his head. He did not want to think like this. It as pointless, and of no help to his people. Besides, he thought, and it came so easily that a moment later it nearly made him retch, she's only a half-blood anyway, so...

So?

Zek turned when the footsteps behind him stopped. He saw his son there, face pale as if he had seen a jungle demon. The jug was held loosely in his arms now, look of horror in his eyes. But it was introverted, as if he was ashamed of something.

"My son...?"

"N... Nothing father."

"Son, I-"

"Later, father."
Razkar said, wanting to banish that thought from his mind and hury it alive so it could never return. "We must get the water."
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Ayatah on January 23rd, 2013, 6:38 pm

ImageEven his small tokens of affection were enough to make Ayatah smile and her eyes glint with simple happiness. She a moment, they rested on his face, before returning to watch the Shorn Skulls admire the kill, murmuring amongst each other.

"But I remember his sister bringing in bigger."


The words nearly made Ayatah wince. As a young girl, she had loved the high praise that she got for the same tasks that her male relatives got a slight nod for. And although it was certainly… pleasant to be at a privileged place in society purely because of her sex, Ayatah saw the inequality in both lights. Myri was the symbol of strength and life for the Myrian race, but had she been a man, their culture would have been entirely different.

Was it fair to see men as lower members of society purely because Myri was born without male anatomy? When she had asked her mother the question as a child, Paira had scolded her daughter for questioning Myri’s authority. But Ayatah hadn’t done that - or least not meant to. Her Goddess-Queen had given her more direction and hope in her life than anyone else, and nobody appreciated Myri’s guidance more than Ayatah.

But her inquisitive nature had made her… well, question things.

When she felt Razkar’s hand enclose down onto her own a little tighter, the questions came flooded back into her mind. But when she glanced at him, there was a smile on his face.

If he can deal with the casual digs, so can I.


”I don't see her bringing home a nice, plump boar."


The words made her giggle - she couldn’t help herself. But she swallowed her laughter when the aunt’s face head snapped up to eye two of them suspicious.

And when Lowax came parting the crowd, the smile completely dropped from Ayatah’s face. To be seen smirking and laughing whilst the head of the clan was giving out orders - or rather, remembering everyone that they had jobs already - would be seen as rude at the very least.

They set off on their tasks: Ayatah followed two other women, arms bundled with various skins towards the creek they had washed in earlier. The three women chatted lightly and awkwardly on their way - Ayatah having completely forgotten their names two bells into conversation.

When they asked about her mother and father, she swallowed self-consciously. She guessed that they knew she was different to other Myrians, much in the same way that Razkar had done when they had first met, but equally assumed that they might not know why.

”My father…. Is an Eypharian. One of the -- multi-armed… race.” The final word added almost dejectedly, she did not want to give any reasons for the clan to dislike or mistrust her.

And being only half-Myrian usually lead to suspicion or aversion. They were not a tolerant race of outsiders

The two other women shared a look, and Ayatah flinched, ”I don’t know my father. My father met him, conceived me, and never saw them again.”

Gods, I hope they do not see me as an abomination now.

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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Razkar on January 23rd, 2013, 10:26 pm

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"Oh, c'mon, boy, how hard can it be?"

"I'm... notgonna... dignifythat!"


With an almighty grunt, Razkar managed to get a hand to the bottom of the jug and tip it over, holding onto the rim with his other hand. His biceps strained and his wrists screamed, but he did his best to hold it steady as a torrent of cool, fresh water was emptied into the massive container taking up most of the longhouse. Well, "container" was perhaps the wrong word. It as a half-dozen deer skins sewn and stuck together, making a huge bowl-shape. The whole clan could drink from it, and it would stay full and fresh for several days.

Razkar set the jug back down and panted, sweat running off him like he'd just stepped out of a creek. His father wasn't even sweating hard, and he scowled up at the grinning older man.

"Getting old already, son?"

"Doesn't seem to bother you."

"Age is a disease of the mind, my boy."


Razkar let out a groan as if wounded and dunked his head into the water, submerging it for a brief, freezing, blissful moment and then whipping his head back out, shaking his hair free.

"How do you come up with these cliches?"

Zek didn't scowl or shout; he just smiled and stepped out into the sun, shrugging. "It's a gift. Hope it's hereditary. Shall we?"

"Why not...?"


There was always work to do; simply looking around would find a man plenty. The longhouse was coming along nicely, a bunch of Razkar's cousins sweating over the grass and wood walls. A group of straining females came back laden with fish from the basin, and a similar celebration took place for their return. But Razkar was not among the well wishers, though he would give his respects later. His eyes were searching, body moving against the flow, looking...

Ah, he saw her! A smile crossed his face-

-and then died.

She sat apart from the other women. Noticeably so. Five of them were sewing deftly, gossiping back and forth, but she was sitting a full six feet apart like some ignored step-child. And when she looked up, Razkar felt an indescribable mix of cold anger and soft sorrow.

They'd ostracized her! How... How dare they?!

Razkar clenched his jaw so tight that his molars popped, but he knew that raging and screaming would not help the situation. It would make it worse, actually, given that he was a male. If he were to spout off at the older, senior females, he'd be birched in front of his family and clan.

And her. No. He would not do that to her.

Instead, he put on a smile, walked over to her... and kissed her with every ounce of passion that he could muster.

He closed his eyes and lost himself, or did his level best. He felt his body become light, his hearing dull... but remain enough for him to hear the scandalized mutterings of the women whose fishing nets were now forgotten. He caressed her lips with his tongue... and then opened his eyes.

Razkar chuckled at her expression, which was somewhere between shock and bliss.

"Come." He said simply, glancing down at her fishing net, which was finished. "We have training to do."
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Ayatah on January 23rd, 2013, 11:20 pm

Image I I should have lied. I should have said that my father was a nice Myrian man who… died -- or something.

Ayatah had always been a terrible liar, especially with complex tales where she would have to remember tiny details. She could never have created a false father figure for her.

I should have simply said that Toralf was my father.

But no - her mother’s current mate had come too late into her own life to ever be perceived as a father figure. Their relationship was a positive one - there was no open animosity between the two - but there was that usual awkwardness between an older child and the new partner of their parent.

I should have lied.

A lie, however terrible, would have been better than the hostility from the other woman following her admission. No, not admission - there was nothing wrong with being half-Eypharian… In Ayatah’s eyes, anyway.

But apparently to the females of the Shorn Skulls, she may as well have told them that she was the spawn of one of the fish people. They had initially nodded politely, completely and judgmentally silent. But when they had sat down to repair the fishnets…

“That’s why her skin is so pale…”

“Legs that long are more hindrance than help.”

“Where are the other arms? Perhaps then her sewing would be quicker.”

She had listened to the words, but they hollowed through her like stones dropping down a well. She had heard it all before - worse things, in fact. But this time…

I should have lied.

All hope of impressing, even befriending, Razkar’s family seemed to completely disintegrate in front of her. The women would no doubt spread the word of the half-Myrian amongst their clan, and soon enough, there would be more than four eyes watching her with newfound distaste.

As she concentrated on sewing, several emotions flushed through Ayatah, and if anyone was watching her, they might see the emotions flash across those dark eyes of hers.

Annoyance; more at herself than the women - why she had told them the truth?

Sadness; from how the women shifted away from her inch by inch, until she was at one end of the net and them at the other.

Defiance; What was so bad about half-Eypharian, anyway? Her mixed blood gave her different skills and strengths than pureblooded Myrians, and she would use these to serve the Goddess-Queen just as dedicatedly as any other.

Finally, admittance… but with a glint of determination; she would look at this as a challenge. No, she was not a pureblooded Myrian. But she could hunt well, and was faster than most of her peers. She was no less of a Myrian in being less Myrian than the others… She hoped.

Something distracted her from her thoughts, and she glanced up from her work.

And as her eyes met his, a new emotion crossed her face: absolute relief and joy. Sighing hugely, her faced creased into a smile, her eyes lightened and all traces of sadness and self-pity dissolved.

I should have lied. But it truly doesn’t matter, now.

His face was full of… something quite different to happiness. The new animosity between Ayatah had his three female relatives was painstakingly obvious - as was when Razkar noticed. He looked terribly angry…

For a moment, Ayatah feared it was directed towards her. She winced and shrugged her shoulders, hoping that he would understand in the small motions that she had not insulted his clanmates - just merely told them the truth about herself.

He put an end to her worries when his met his lips with hers. The energy in the kiss took Ayatah by completely surprise, but her fingers were already looped around his neck, and she leaned into the kiss willingly and contentedly. Suddenly, the other women didn’t matter quite so much.

"Come. We have training to do."

”Thank Myri.” she whispered under her breath - but just loud enough that he would hear. Perhaps she would get on with the children better than the women her own age.

She stood, nodding a polite goodbye to the women that had been so unpleasant to her, and left them to finish their own work. As soon as the two of them were out of earshot and eye line of the women, she turned to Razkar with a look of sorrow on her face. ”I’m sorry -- I should have lied. I didn’t expect them to act so… negatively to my being Eypharian.” She ran a hand through her dark hair, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip in nervousness. Why had she expected the females to act any differently to how the majority of other Myrians reacted to her heritage? Perhaps she had not expected them to act different, just hoped to the point that she had convinced herself that they would. ”I’m… rejected now, aren’t I?”


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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Razkar on January 24th, 2013, 2:46 am

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”I’m sorry -- I should have lied. I didn’t expect them to act so… negatively to my being Eypharian.”

"It would have been worse if you'd lied," Razkar said instinctively, shaking his head as they walked towards the sound of high-pitched laughter and chattering, "Because eventually, they would have found out. Up until a century ago, they were still cutting fingers off them." Her head whipped around and he patted her hand as he hed it, only just able the keep the smile off his face. "Not anymore!"

”I’m… rejected now, aren’t I?”

He stopped walking and she nearly fell over trying to stop just as quickly. His face was a picture of... sympathy. Not anger or disappointment, but a stern sorrow that told her much more than his words could. He was struggling to find them, scratching his head as he tried. Eventually, Razkar just smiled and let that smile she was growing to love crawl slowly over his face.

"You killed a tiger with me. You helped bring food to my clan, hunted with our warriors and kept pace with them. You did chores for my people and showed nothing but respect." He closed the gap between them, pressing his front against hers briefly as he kissed her again. When he broke off, he nuzzled her nose and chuckled. "Blood will out, the scholars say. They don't know what they're talking about. Your actions have done more than any amount of blood or lineage, Aya. Remember that."

Razkar decided to leave it at that; if he went on further he'd probably say something really stupid. So they started walking again, past relatives and clan members, heading for the long, low hut that had all the commotion behind it. And when they cleared the wall, they saw two-dozen squealing rampaging Myrian youngsters whirling around, causing all manner of chaos without actually burning their school house down.

"Settle down, children!"

Even Ayatah flinched at the booming roar that exploded out of Razkar's mouth, a fierce bark of words that swallowed up that anarchy and bought instant attention. Most of the children sat down immediately; a few older ones stared over with challenges in their eyes... then saw what he made that noise, and decided better of it. Even the females.

Razkar was proud of the sudden respect in their eyes, a proper way to greet their new sparring teacher. Then he ruined the moment by remembering he was still holding his woman's hand in front of them.
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Afterwards (Ayatah)

Postby Ayatah on January 24th, 2013, 10:23 am

Image"It would have been worse if you'd lied,”

Ayatah nodded in agreement, but she could not shift the judgmental looks that had crossed the women’s faces out of her mind. It was like he could read her mind:

"Because eventually, they would have found out. Up until a century ago, they were still cutting fingers off them."

Her eyebrows shot up and her face revealed an expression of… not fear, but… slight concern? One hundred years was a short amount of time - hell, her Great-Grandmother was nearing the milestone. To think that members of the Shorn Skulls had been removing the fingers off Eypharians a mere century ago.

They might have taken the fingers off my relatives. That was a strange thought, and she shook her head to clear her mind of such ideas. She had no Eypharian family, or at least she liked to think. It was a discomforting idea that there might be, somewhere in a far off land, a half-sister or -brother of hers.

Razkar had stopped suddenly, and she stumbled clumsily to avoid walking directly into him. There was a new expression to his face - one that Ayatah could not exactly describe, but it gave her comfort. As a hand went behind his head, she guessed - or rather knew, after spending such a short but intense time together - that he was trying to find the words to explain himself. A tiny smile came across her face; it was… nice to know that she was beginning to be able to read him.

"Blood will out, the scholars say. They don't know what they're talking about. Your actions have done more than any amount of blood or lineage, Aya. Remember that."

Sighing, she nodded slowly, still holding her body close to his. The warmth and sensation of him so near to her gave Ayatah the feeling of security more than words or weapons.

”I hope so. Perhaps they will come to see that I am more Myrian than Eypharian - apart from how I look and smell.”

They continued walking, with Ayatah considering the words that he had just said.

Then she did something quite unexpected --

She laughed.

”Myri, not many women have to fear that the family of their beloved will cut their fingers off.” Their situation certainly seemed comically hopeless, if looked upon with the right attitude. And Ayatah had always managed to find the dry humour in situations, especially if the alternate way of looking at them was far from optimistic or amusing.

Then she stopped sniggering. What had she called him? Beloved? The word had slipped out before Ayatah had even considered what she had said. It had come almost instinctively, and judging by the surprise look on his face, Razkar had picked up on the word much quicker than she had.

She stopping walking for a brief chime, then cleared her throat awkwardly and continued onwards. Do I always have to put my foot right in it? She scolded herself as she marched onwards, her skin flushing with embarrassment.

Approaching the hut came as a welcome sight for Ayatah, even if all the noise inside sounded like a second Valterrian. As they stepped inside, her eyes widened at just how any children were causing the chaos. Before, the highest number of children that she had trained had been three. There were… hell, she couldn’t even count how many children there were - they kept running around and inter-mingling with each other.

"Settle down, children!"

Her head snapped sideways, and she stared at him with surprise. The sheer volume in which he had cried out made Ayatah almost sit down amongst the children. There was a new appreciation and respect in her eyes as she watched him fondly.

The sounds of whispers distracted her attention, and she glanced back to the children in front of her. They were all sitting down now, looking obedient, but something between herself and Razkar seemed to causing them no end of entertainment. A few girls giggled and two of the older boys scoffed and muttered jokes. The respect that Razkar had gained from shouting out his order was quickly diminishing.

In one quick, fluid movement, Ayatah stepped behind him; pulling the arm she had hold of behind his back and slipping her own dagger out from his loincloth and up to throat. The motion had been incredibly swift and poised, and now the children - especially the younger ones and the girls - looked impressed.

”Sometimes innocent and intimate looking… positions and movements are anything but.” She said, hoping that the young eyes watching would believe that the hand-holding had merely been a pretense for the starting lesson, ”it is important that you don’t just look at things, but see them for what they could be.” Stepping from behind Razkar, she glanced to his face. Her darks met his, a playful little spark in them. Play along, play along, play along.


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Ayatah
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