26th Day of Fall, 509AV
The Village of the Shorn Skulls Clan
6th Bell
The challenge was truly worth the mind and skill of a warrior. It was difficult but delicate, requiring timing and bravery in equal measure. But Razkar was going to rise to the occasion and emerge victorious.
Not as easy as it looks, leaving your lover's bed without waking her.
When the darkness of night faded from the canopy and bit by tentative bit, the sun brightened above them. Ever-sensitive to such things, sleepy and rested Myrians were woken by the soft light rubbing against their eyes, another day born, a new set of chores to be seen to.
Razkar was no different, but he did not twitch when he awoke. Ayatah slept next to him under the furs, snuggled close and under his arm. He enjoyed that long, first chime when he could just gaze at her; recommitting her face and her beauty to memory... but he had other works this morning.
He moved slowly, inch by careful inch, until his arm was freed from under her head. Then he slid his body off the low bed of furs. He set his feet down carefully, mindful of that board that always-
Creeeeeeak...
The indignant, high-pitched sound almost betrayed Razkar, and he stood stock still. He waited... and Ayatah turned over in her sleep, still oblivious. Exhaling and swallowing his concern, Razkar rose from the bed and tiptoed to the flap that served as the hut's door.
Moments later he was at the lodge where animals were skinned and butchered, finding his father waiting for him. Zek was, unsurprisingly, fresh as the morning dew, fully clothed and sharpening the thin, curved blades used for skinning. His eyes flickered up as his son arrived, scar splitting his face looking less livid in the soft early light.
"Ready?"
"Yes, father."
"Good." He handed the blade to his son, and both of them moved to the bench where the dessicated, decimated and devoured remains of the tiger they had slain. The meat had been almost entirely stripped and the skeleton was yet to be harvested for Mayla. But the pelt still needed to go. "This will be a long one, boy. Sure you have time for it?"
"I think between the two of us we can manage it before midday."
Zek cast an appraising eye over the carcass and scratched under his chin with the tip of his own blade. He had long since lost count of both the number and variety of beasts he had skinned. He could look at a carcass and tell you what to use, how to use it and how many chimes the process would take. He thought his sons estimate was a little conservative, actually.
"We'll see."
They advanced upon the still carcass and began their work. It was a few chimes before Zek spoke again, slicing under the pelt above the ribs as Razkar held the skin taut. He'd long since taught him to do so whenever he could: holding the skin tight and back meant that the skinner could cut better and faster.
"Have you two... exchanged any vows?"
"No, father."
"Stop calling me 'father' like I'm interrogating you."
"Are you not?"
"It's not the expression I would use."
Zek made the final cut and the tiger's pelt across its stomach and underside was cut free. But they still had long to go. Razkar knew from helping his father than the legs and tail were the most annoying, and time-consuming. He moved his hands down to the right leg, slicing upwards from the paws to the top of the leg, then slicing bit by bit under the surface.
"We have not exchanged any vows. But..."
"But?"
Razkar regretted he had let that out, but knew his father simply would not let go of it now it had greeted the air. He sighed and kept his eyes on his work.
"There is... a depth to our affection for each other."
Zek groaned theatrically and rubbed his eyes.
"Why do young men find it so hard to say the word 'love' without fear or revulsion? Are you all so craven?"
If any other Myrian, male or female, had called Razkar's courage into question, the matter would have been settled with violence. But this was his father, and despite the glare he cast at him, he knew the reason and logic behind it. The truth, too.
"Were you the same?"
"With your mother? Boy, you have no idea. Such a bond, a connection, is not to be taken lightly, if it be true. But this... speed, that you two have fallen for one another. It concerns me. What burns with this intensity and ferocity does not last. I know that much."
Razkar struggled not to snap back with something clever, eventually just clenching his jaw to still his tongue. He did not want to let go of her, in his heart or with his hands... but they were so young, by their race's standards. Were they mistaken? Would these feelings remain in a week? A month? A year? Would they dull and fester with age?
So many questions, Zek thought, as if reading his son's mind, and so few years and experiences to answer them with...
"I do not know. But we want to try. And this gift to her... I think she is worthy of it. Not only for what I feel, but for what she aided me with. Mayla will have her prize. I have the respect of the tribe. She deserves the rest."
Zek nodded slowly, and decided his son had a little more wisdom than he did when he left for Taloba seasons ago. He sighed and jerked his head towards the leg he was working on.
"So be it. Careful of the tendons."
"Yes, father."
The Village of the Shorn Skulls Clan
6th Bell
The challenge was truly worth the mind and skill of a warrior. It was difficult but delicate, requiring timing and bravery in equal measure. But Razkar was going to rise to the occasion and emerge victorious.
Not as easy as it looks, leaving your lover's bed without waking her.
When the darkness of night faded from the canopy and bit by tentative bit, the sun brightened above them. Ever-sensitive to such things, sleepy and rested Myrians were woken by the soft light rubbing against their eyes, another day born, a new set of chores to be seen to.
Razkar was no different, but he did not twitch when he awoke. Ayatah slept next to him under the furs, snuggled close and under his arm. He enjoyed that long, first chime when he could just gaze at her; recommitting her face and her beauty to memory... but he had other works this morning.
He moved slowly, inch by careful inch, until his arm was freed from under her head. Then he slid his body off the low bed of furs. He set his feet down carefully, mindful of that board that always-
Creeeeeeak...
The indignant, high-pitched sound almost betrayed Razkar, and he stood stock still. He waited... and Ayatah turned over in her sleep, still oblivious. Exhaling and swallowing his concern, Razkar rose from the bed and tiptoed to the flap that served as the hut's door.
Moments later he was at the lodge where animals were skinned and butchered, finding his father waiting for him. Zek was, unsurprisingly, fresh as the morning dew, fully clothed and sharpening the thin, curved blades used for skinning. His eyes flickered up as his son arrived, scar splitting his face looking less livid in the soft early light.
"Ready?"
"Yes, father."
"Good." He handed the blade to his son, and both of them moved to the bench where the dessicated, decimated and devoured remains of the tiger they had slain. The meat had been almost entirely stripped and the skeleton was yet to be harvested for Mayla. But the pelt still needed to go. "This will be a long one, boy. Sure you have time for it?"
"I think between the two of us we can manage it before midday."
Zek cast an appraising eye over the carcass and scratched under his chin with the tip of his own blade. He had long since lost count of both the number and variety of beasts he had skinned. He could look at a carcass and tell you what to use, how to use it and how many chimes the process would take. He thought his sons estimate was a little conservative, actually.
"We'll see."
They advanced upon the still carcass and began their work. It was a few chimes before Zek spoke again, slicing under the pelt above the ribs as Razkar held the skin taut. He'd long since taught him to do so whenever he could: holding the skin tight and back meant that the skinner could cut better and faster.
"Have you two... exchanged any vows?"
"No, father."
"Stop calling me 'father' like I'm interrogating you."
"Are you not?"
"It's not the expression I would use."
Zek made the final cut and the tiger's pelt across its stomach and underside was cut free. But they still had long to go. Razkar knew from helping his father than the legs and tail were the most annoying, and time-consuming. He moved his hands down to the right leg, slicing upwards from the paws to the top of the leg, then slicing bit by bit under the surface.
"We have not exchanged any vows. But..."
"But?"
Razkar regretted he had let that out, but knew his father simply would not let go of it now it had greeted the air. He sighed and kept his eyes on his work.
"There is... a depth to our affection for each other."
Zek groaned theatrically and rubbed his eyes.
"Why do young men find it so hard to say the word 'love' without fear or revulsion? Are you all so craven?"
If any other Myrian, male or female, had called Razkar's courage into question, the matter would have been settled with violence. But this was his father, and despite the glare he cast at him, he knew the reason and logic behind it. The truth, too.
"Were you the same?"
"With your mother? Boy, you have no idea. Such a bond, a connection, is not to be taken lightly, if it be true. But this... speed, that you two have fallen for one another. It concerns me. What burns with this intensity and ferocity does not last. I know that much."
Razkar struggled not to snap back with something clever, eventually just clenching his jaw to still his tongue. He did not want to let go of her, in his heart or with his hands... but they were so young, by their race's standards. Were they mistaken? Would these feelings remain in a week? A month? A year? Would they dull and fester with age?
So many questions, Zek thought, as if reading his son's mind, and so few years and experiences to answer them with...
"I do not know. But we want to try. And this gift to her... I think she is worthy of it. Not only for what I feel, but for what she aided me with. Mayla will have her prize. I have the respect of the tribe. She deserves the rest."
Zek nodded slowly, and decided his son had a little more wisdom than he did when he left for Taloba seasons ago. He sighed and jerked his head towards the leg he was working on.
"So be it. Careful of the tendons."
"Yes, father."
