Oriah's eyes had lit at the heartfelt words that poured from Jovhel's consciousness. She was caught off guard at first as his compliments at her dancing, having almost forgotten what it felt like to have an audience, but his adamant assurance in the validity of her decisions made the squire smile from ear to ear.
The younger Benshira evoked feelings of nostalgia and kinship so poignant it made her heart ache. Oriah had spent years facing the frequent disapproval of her elders; even the younger members of their Tent eventually shied aware from her whenever she did something conspicuous. Her interpretations of Yahal's teachings had often made the others uncomfortable. Their lives were rather ascetic amidst the harsh sands of the Eyktol and few had either time or energy to go about re-evaluating their ways. Tradition was tradition. Life was difficult enough as it was without philosophical meddling.
But she had wanted to meddle. Not because the dancer didn't value or respect her people's way of life, but because she felt the constant chafing of ill-fitting rules that no one else in her Tent seemed to experience. After realizing she seemed to be the only one who felt this way, it didn't take long for Oriah to decide to strike out on her own. She loved her home, and her people even more so, but at some point the young woman was forced to admit her Tent could no longer offer what she needed.
And now she was here. A season traveler, and a squire too, no less. Sitting in Theater Square about to see a performance that would have never taken place anywhere near her old Tent, with company she would have never otherwise met. Oriah had always wondered what it would be like to have a brother, and Jovhel's presence eased more than a little of her curiosity. They seemed incredibly alike in both spirit and mind. Syna touched, as some in her past had referred to such sunny dispositions.
Marrick would like him, she mused to herself.
It was no wonder that she had bumped into Lissa as bodily as she did.
Oriah caught the hushed gratitude from Jovhel to Lissa after the girl had staked her claim on their seats and couldn't helping adding one of her own. "Nicely done!" the squire grinned beside their new friend's ear.
As Jovhel made his own, enthusiastic introductions, the elder Benshira kept an eye out on the stage, a pleasant niggling of anticipation dancing about in her stomach. Then both Benshiras sat in quiet but eager attention, ready to hear how Lissa had come about being in Theater Square this auspicious night.
"Was that man able to sell you something?" Oriah threw in a question of her own, unable to help herself. "His wares were so pretty, but a squire like me has no use for such things, sadly."
It wasn't long after their introductions that a general hush fell about the audience. People began settling comfortably into their seats, and somewhere somehow the lights began to dim. Oriah craned her neck and was able to catch a glimpse of someone snuffing out several of the torches and candles. After a few more moments, the only main source of lighting left was the one on stage, illuminating a thick set of velvet curtains and the rich umber of wooden floorboards.
"Look, I think it's starting!" she whispered to her compatriots, a flutter of excitement passing through her body.
