Closed Facing the Family (Shahar)

[Naiya]

His answer came simply, confidently. The rumble of his voice both reassuring and slightly unsettling. That he spoke the words seemed to give them a heavier weight.

He seemed sure, when he looked at her, but contemplative when he looked at the pelt. Thinking, or perhaps evaluating. Remembering?

His gaze remained trained on the pelt in his hands, and although he had said he would give it, he did not stir for a long moment. She could only hope to reassure him that it was worth whatever thoughts rose in him as he gazed at it.

She extended her hand to him, offering reassurance in her touch on his arm. "It will be a gift worthy of the occasion. It speaks highly of you, and of your opinion of me."

She searched his face for a sign of his thoughts, looking for hesitation or reluctance to part with the obviously meaningful fur, but if those feelings existed in him, she did not see them.

She retracted her hand, her gaze shifting once more to the pelt, and she dared brush her fingers along the grain of the fur as they passed. She smiled then, a sly grin chasing away worry that had lingered in the furrow of her brow.

"My sisters will be jealous to find you value me so highly as this, Shahar."

[Colt]

His confidence seemed concrete enough to settle her uncertainty, even as he continued to regard the pelt in contemplation. When she broke the silence, it was with the weight of reassurance.

“It will be a gift worthy of the occasion. It speaks highly of you, and of your opinion of me.”

Something between relief and yes, that’s it flickered over his shoulders. That was what he would trade it for, and was something well worth parting with the pelt over.

Rue’s next statement about her sisters’ jealousy was pointedly lighter in heart than the prior portion of conversation, and Shahar returned her smile. He wasn’t quite sure why it would inspire jealousy, but he didn’t have to––Rue was smiling, and it was enough of a gift that he didn’t have to know the reason it had come about.

With the road ahead feeling just a bit more safe, Shahar shifted the bundle to one hand so he could sign more clearly.

We go? he asked. There was no more business to be conducted at his own camp, as far as he knew; he wanted to face Rue’s family sooner rather than later. He knew from experience that stalling just frayed his nerves all the more.

[Naiya]

It was settled then, the relief in his features inspiring a deep breath of her own. She was slightly humbled by how highly he thought of her, to bring such a fine gift to a simple meeting of her family.

He shifted, freeing his hands to sign more clearly, though his question added a bit of tension back to her own posture. She did her best to release the upset, but when it failed, she put words to the problem. Nervous, excited, long awaited the signs were thought spoken rather than coherent ideas, but it was all she had to offer.

"Mmhm. Yes, let's."

She glanced about the camp, seeking signs of something forgotten, or perhaps hoping to find a reason to linger further. When her eyes did not alight on anything to stop their journey, she turned back to Shahar.

It took her a moment to tear her gaze from him. His concern, his confusion, it had distracted her before, but now, his change in demeanor drew her back to the attractiveness that always seemed to ensnare her.

"You look quite handsome, Shahar." She informed him, tenderness remaking the shape of her smile. Let's go She signed again, this time putting word to action stepping out towards the edge of camp and in toward the city proper.

oocIf you'd like to add something after this, disregard this last bit of text and act as though the paragraph before was the last. Otherwise, I hope this is a sufficient transition forward

The Nightsong pavilion was deep in the amethyst clan, needing room to keep both it's horses and it's zibri on the outskirts of the city. There was walking to be done, though the time would hopefully give both Rue and Shahar a chance to gather themselves before the onslaught.

Or rather it would give Rue time, she knew what was coming where Shahar did not, but it did not make it easier to face.

As they approached there was a welcoming whinny from Wildfire, a sound that carried towards them from where he grazed. It was a sound of finality on their approach.

"Thank you, for doing this, for coming to meet all of them." Rue said, halting them for another moment, whether to give herself time or to give Shahar time to prepare she wasn't sure.

[Colt]

She acquiesced, and the two made ready to depart for whatever awaited them within the depths of Endrykas. Rue turned to sweep her gaze over the camp, then returned a Shahar. A moment’s pause.

“You look quite handsome, Shahar,” she said.

There was a brief delay as he heard and processed the word––it wasn’t a word he often came across in any measure, especially in association with himself––but in a moment his shoulders had taken on gratitude shy, bit flustered but thank you. Compliments were not at all things that he was used to.

They left the outskirts for the thicker paths of the tent city. The mid-morning thrum of activity was climbing slowly to its apex, and no one spared the pair a second glance as they wove their way through the cloth and dust. The crowd thickened when they reached the center of the Amethyst Clan, then thinned as the made their way deeper, to the where the Nightsongs made their home.

The pavilion had space around it, at least enough to house the herds of animals that stomped and grazed through the new fodder that the most recent move of the city had provided for them. It was larger than Shahar had expected, and woven with rich purples that fended off any doubt of what Clan it belonged to.

There was a whinny of recognition, and Shahar quickly identified Rue’s Strider––Wildfire, he remembered––and Rue halted.

“Thank you, for doing this, for coming to meet all of them.”

Shahar nodded in acknowledgement, uneasiness, determination. This was what was needed, and therefore it was what he would do.

Are you ready?

[Naiya]

There was no more stalling regardless of whether or not she was ready, so instead she answered with reassurance in mind.

"Yes I am ready."
"Rue you have returned," The booming voice spoke over Rue, whether intentionally or otherwise, leaving Rue no further time to respond. "I see you have held true to your promise."

Her father, alerted to their arrival perhaps by the sound of Wildfire's call, had come out to greet them, leaving the two young Drykas to scramble back to readiness to face the adults.

Welcome, greetings Achaius appeared before them, large and bright in his amethyst tunic. Of the two men, Shahar was the taller, standing nearly five inches taller than the Ankal, although you might not have guessed it by the attitude of the older man. Time had worn away at the hard edges of the pavilion's leader, he was softer now, his body less defined, his face battered by weather and time. He even had the beginnings of a gut hiding beneath the finely cut cloth of his shirt.

His age had not diminished his appearance though, adding dignity and wisdom to his appearance. His clothing was as well fit as ever, and clean of the usual marks. He had obviously worked hard in his youth, and was now watching as the benefits of his work came together. All in all, he presented quite the picture to the young man who stood beside his daughter.

"You must be Saehare, the young man my daughter has kept all to herself." The barb was subtle, delivered in a tone that conveyed only the most jovial of manners.

Rue was fairly certain he has mispronounced Shahar's name on purpose. She was about to say so, too, when her father continued.

Welcome, inside, honored guest the signs rolled out smoothly, not a hint of the scathing Rue expected was visible in the Ankal's signing. "Please, let us go in, it won't do to discuss business out here like a common cattle auction."

[Colt]

Rue made to respond, but the sound of her words was muddled and overtaken by the sudden, unexpected interruption of another. Flinching half-consciously, Shahar shifted to survey the new presence––her father, as his words had betrayed. Achaius, if his memory served him.

Once he had greeted his daughter, the man seemed turned away from Rue and seemed to cease acknowledgement of her entirely. He instead focused on Shahar, welcoming gestures on his hands while undoubtedly surveying the hunter as deeply as the hunter was surveying him.

He seemed to be a somewhat weathered man, although not quite to the the point of being aged. He was wrapped up in the traditional purples of the Amethyst, although the cut of his cloth was distinctly finer than what Rue typically wore, and his shoulders were set with the authority that one would expect from a pavilion Ankal. The most telling aspect of his aura, however, was the confidence written into every line of his posture. Had he lay eyes upon the man at the Hunter’s Allegiance or in the streets, Shahar would have preferred to avoid such a person. But avoidance was out of the question under these circumstances. There was nothing else to do but meet it, match it and stand with a confidence of his own.

Straightening, Shahar dipped his head with respectful greeting.

"You must be Saehare, the young man my daughter has kept all to herself."

It took a moment for the hunter to realize that Achaius had been attempting his name, although it was bizarrely inaccurate. The way he said it was altogether too loud and confused, and so Shahar tilted his head. As for the second part of the statement… well, that simply made no sense at all, and so Shahar moved past it.

I am “Shahar,” he corrected, doing his best to say it as it was supposed to be said––quietly, calmly and without hurry. It was the sort of name that sounded like a whisper, even if one was speaking loudly; indeed, it would likely give someone difficulty if they attempted to shout it.

Continuing with gestures of welcome and indication towards the tent, Achaius continued; “Please, let us go in, it won't do to discuss business out here like a common cattle auction."

A common cattle auction? Shahar failed to see how such an analogy applied to their current situation; there was no purchase taking place. Then again, Shahar had never actually attended a cattle auction, so he didn’t know whether or not they were conducted differently from other sorts of auctions. But the auction was not the part that demanded a response; it was the invitation.

Glancing at Rue, then at Achaius, Shahar conveyed vaguely bemused acquiescence and followed the Ankal.

[Naiya]

Rue returned Shahar's look, although bemused was not a term that fit her mood. She was vaguely apologetic, though things were still going well enough. If she ignored the fact that her father had just called her cattle.

"Shaaher, Saehare, what a gentle name, don't you have something stronger?" His continued mispronunciation was undoubtedly intentional as he preceded the two inside.

Rue paused to partially tie the flap of the doors back, opening the pavilion to the soft breeze from outside. Casting a worried glance into the room beyond, affixing her mother with a pleading look in hopes that she would be able to convince Achaius to speak Shahar's name properly.

"Shahar, dear, welcome," Reiana spoke first, privilege of her position in the pavilion. There was no good way to emphasize Shahar's name, the very nature of it preventing such things, but she seemed to have spoken with that intent. She, like the Ankal, was dressed finely, and though she was the eldest of the wives, she managed to appear no older than her husband. The marks of Achaius's favor ran the length of her arm, bands of jewelry, some studded with amethyst, others carved wood.

Rue's mother spoke a greeting of her own. The second wife, she was not nearly so adorned as the first, she looked better for it, however, younger. Her hair was light enough in color that the smattering of silver she had acquired was a highlight in the intricate braids of her hair.

Mayeve was there as well, awaiting her turn to speak in the formality of the situation. She too, was dressed well, more finely even than Alana, despite the pavilion hierarchy. When the conversation fell to her, she spoke at more length than the others.

"Shahar, it is a pleasure to meet you. Even though we would have liked to do so earlier in your," she paused, her words seemingly shifted between her thoughts and her speaking, tentative caution shaping her body, perhaps a desire not to offend any of the people present "Relationship with Rue."

The booming voice of Achaius was back, introducing his wives more formally, a hand indicating each woman as he introduced them. Well met, was the greeting that came next from the women, signing nearly in unison.

Rue glanced around once again, the belated realization that her siblings were not present, perhaps something had changed. Or they had decided it better to watch the spectacle from a distance. She followed Shahar closely, staying just behind him in hopes of providing support, and because the short distance she was behind him would allow her to offer him words that the others might not hear.

She carefully was not touching him, though she did reach to him to catch his attention.

"You brought a gift, Shahar. Now is good to give." Her words were mildly clipped. She didn't really want anyone to hear her, keeping her words short and soft would help.

[Colt]

When Shahar glanced back at Rue, her posture was oddly apologetic; had some communication taken place that he was not aware of? It became even more strange when he turned back to make his way into the tent, heralded by her father’s continued difficulty with his name.

"Shaaher, Saehare, what a gentle name, don't you have something stronger?"

Didn’t he have something stronger? What did that mean? Was he asking if Shahar had another name, or was there something else he was saying that he refused to display with his words and signs?

That is my name, Shahar signed, although now his shoulders held a hint of cautiousness.

The inside of the tent was well lived in, woven with strong cloth and supports as one would expect from a family as large as Rue’s. Three women lingered there, relative age leading Shahar to assume that they were Achaius’ wives. The eldest of them––a graceful, stately woman wrapped up in jewels and finery––stood and greeted them, and she, at least, managed to pronounce his name correctly.

Respectful formal greeting, he said. If he accepted her adornments as signals of status, this was Reiana, the first wife.

The second woman to stand was younger, although not quite so trinketed as her first wife; her greeting was likewise more proper than her husband’s had been. Shahar repeated his greeting to her.

"Shahar,” said the third, “it is a pleasure to meet you. Even though we would have liked to do so earlier in your…” there was a cautious string of signs, “... relationship with Rue.”

Achaius raised his voice again, introducing each of the women by name. Reiana. Alanas. Mayeve. Each name was received with formal recognition, and he returned their collective well met.

Rue’s presence behind him was felt more than it was heard, and a brief, subtle flickering of acknowledgement-greeting passed over his back to let her know that he was aware of her.

"You brought a gift, Shahar. Now is good to give."

Shahar stilled, letting the idea formulate into an action, and nodded.

Respectful gratitude, he said. Invitation thank you, I come with a gift. Unsure who to present it to, Shahar erred on the side of caution and stepped forward to hold the pelt out to Achaius.

[Naiya]

"Ah, a gift? How kind." Achaius took the gift, turning the pelt this way and that examining it. "A night lion?"

For the first time, Achaius sounded impressed.

Gratitude, pleasure made up the shape of Reiana's hands and body spoke as she came forward to take the pelt from Achaius. She took the pelt, ducking off behind the fall of canvas that shaped the smaller public area. After a few moments, from deeper in the pavilion came muffled sounds of appreciation. Regardless of the quality of the pelt itself, which was fine enough to impress anyway, the evidence of having slain the lion was worthy of recognition. Rue had to smile at the sound.

"Should we go inside, sit maybe? Have some tea?" Rue offered, hoping to move things beyond the uncomfortable standing around the little cut off entrance of the pavilion.

There was general agreement and then the shuffling about as Rue's family turned to find the common area, just outside of where the cooking was done. First Achaius, then Alana, and finally Mayeve moved past the hanging barrier of canvas. Beyond It was where the family often sat and went about their tasks in the evenings. A few large rugs covered the ground, adding a plush cushion to their steps and providing protection from the ground when they sat. There were a scant few stools, mostly seating was in the form of plush cushions on the ground.

Rue led Shahar to a spot one where she often sat, and offered him a seat her movement was formally polite out of habit more than anything else. She glanced around the seated arrangement, finding that some of the places had been moved from when she had left to find Shahar that morning. It was arranged, so that after having unthinkingly offering Shahar a seat near the spot where she often sat, the only remaining cushions were across the room, beside her mother, or father, or separately across the room.

It was subtle, something Shahar would not necessarily notice, for the arrangement of the room was not familiar to him as it was to Rue. She could abandon Shahar to sit alone, or sit on the floor. It wasn't a difficult decision for Rue, she did not mind the floor, but it did force her hand in declaring her preference for Shahar over her family.

That had been a topic of much discontent over the past few days, asking Rue if she would abandon her family for a man who hadn't even cared enough for her to come to them and ask permission to court her. Now they gave her a quiet choice. Sit comfortably among them, or on the ground beside the single cushion she had given Shahar. That specifically was a declaration. Forgoing the comforts of family for someone who was really a stranger. Or he was to her family.

It had been been no more than a few ticks of hesitation, as she realized her situation and the implications of her choice to be made. Really the choice had been made for her, but she would not fight it. She settled beside Shahar, tucking her legs neatly beneath her so that she was sitting on a chair formed by her feet. It was not the most comfortable, but she sat in that way often enough as a child learning combat from her uncle. He had called the position seiza, and told her it was how a good student must sit, so she had for long hours then, now for the short time it was needed, she could certainly manage.

"So, Shahar," Rue's mother, Alana, began, "Tell us about yourself."

[Colt]

Achaius received the pelt with a questioning sort of gratitude, turning it over for examination. Shahar held his breath, tense, and awaited the verdict; Rue had assured him that this would be a good gift, but now the doubts came clamoring anew, clutching at his gut until Achaius finally spoke.

And when he spoke, there was no doubting his approval.

A ghost of relief flickered over his shoulders, brief and subtle as Reiana came forward to relieve the Ankal of the pelt, positivity and happiness clear in her posture. She took the gift away, deeper into the tent, and her departure was soon accented with the soft sounds of voices. Rue’s siblings, perhaps? It made him a bit uneasy, knowing that there were others so close that might be trying to hear the conversation; the entire ordeal was unfamiliar territory, and he had no inkling of what to expect in the case of a misstep. It was better, he concluded, to not misstep at all.

Rue spoke up with an invitation deeper into the pavilion, to tea and sitting down, and was greeted by unanimous agreement. They shuffled and moved on, past the cloth partition that cut the pavilion into rooms, to a larger area that was clearly well-lived in. Carpeted and cushioned, with the occasional stool standing here and there. The Nightsongs took their seats, while Rue led Shahar to a cushion of his own that sat opposite her family. Thank you, Shahar said politely, taking a seat.

There was a brief pause in Rue’s movements as she looked about, no more than a few seconds but enough for Shahar to notice. It ended quickly, and she sat down next to him, without a seat of her own aside from her legs. Though pleased they would be sitting together––he was nervous enough with her near, and didn’t like the idea of facing her family alone––it seemed a bit odd for her to have no cushion for her own seat. He briefly wished he had brought his cloak; he had folded it up and used it as a seat before, and for Rue to have none felt a bit unfair. He wondered if he could offer her his own seat, but she had been the one to offer it to him first. Would it be appropriate?

Brief inquiry, comfortable? he asked. It was a small and subtle sign that might or might not have made it past her parents, but there wasn’t much opportunity to elaborate on the question; Rue’s mother, Alana, had spoken up.

“So, Shahar,” she began. “Tell us about yourself.”

Tell us about yourself. It was a short statement, but one that took Shahar wildly off-guard. He was an exceedingly simple man, and there wasn’t much to tell. What could he say that would be of interest or real use.

I… “hunt.” My profession, hesitance. Broad question. Specific?