Face the Wind (Thistle)

Thistle bullies Lani, Lani begins to actually understand the importance of caste in Wind Reach.

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The westernmost tip of Kalea, Wind Reach is home to an amazing group of people and their giant eagle mounts. [Lore]

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Face the Wind (Thistle)

Postby Lani Stranger on November 18th, 2018, 12:50 am

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60th of Fall, 518AV


The trek from the winding trail of steps down the Sanikas gates to the Processing Center was almost deadly. The mixed blood was not a dainty creature. She had the height of her Eypharian blood, and the sturdiness of her Chaktawe blood, and still Zulrav was intent on lifting her from the ground. The scribe was not all too happy about today’s work assignment, although she really didn’t have a right to complain. Unless told otherwise, she always assumed she was needed in the Enclave, helping the scribes. Between copying what little common they had, repairing binds, and making paper, Lani was at a point in which she could pretty much do most of the Chiet work without needing to be instructed to anymore. Still, assignments were assignments, and today she was needed with the hunters.

Her skill in wilderness survival probably assigned her to it, she wasn’t a hunter by any means. Still they must be short on Chiet to give her this assignment. She didn’t mind working with the animals or doing menial cleaning when the Dek were overloaded, it was just that she wanted to be able to focus on her language pursuits, and it was a little harder without a plethora of Nari books to browse through, or the enlightened Enclave Avora who could correct her on her use of the language. Most Inarta, even the Chiet, tried to ignore her as much as was possible everywhere else. The news of a black-eyed, not-quite-human foreigner had spread quickly, and most of the rest of the city was still getting used to her. She suspected it caused her more problems, and bullying than most Chiet received. Luckily the work ethic was enough that none did so at the expense of interrupting her work, everyone had work to do, and she was no exception.

“Ay, Cuckoo.” She looked towards the voice, irritated that she answered to the name. She was unsure what the Nari word was, but was confident it was an insult, she had heard it enough. But when her black eyes fell upon the Avora that ran the Processing Center, she knew she could not complain. Or at least, she wasn’t allowed to.

“Hello,” She spoke the Nari word, perfectly pleasantly, hands in her Katinu pockets, waiting for him to tell her what she was to spend the rest of the day doing. Her only saving grace was that it was market day, and although the sun had just risen, she would be given a longer break at noon to allow for her to shop. Even those who worked on market days, like herself, were allowed to attend.

“You’re not with us today.” The relief was tangible, as it released her shoulders form the tight upright position they had been in. She had never skinned an animal in her life, she was good with math, but the center didn’t need extra mathematicians, it was for preparing game for use. But, it was early in the morning and few things had been brought in yet. Instead hunters seemed to mill around, collecting the things they needed and conversing with each other about tactics or locations, or whatever.

“There is an Avora that needs you. Her name is Thistle.” He paused, looking at Lani, and she refrained from frowning at him as she read the judgement in his expression. “You are to do exactly what she asks you to help her.” So he had heard about Narth. The Endal had attempted to keep their meetings a secret, refusing to converse with her in public. Still the horny red-headed bastard had invited her, and her meager outdoor skills, on too many hunting trips for her to remain anonymous. Yes she had actually picked up some scouting tips from him, but not all of their time in the woods was strictly for work. Luckily, despite the odd caste system that she had forced herself to get used to, no one batted an eye at an Endal tumbling in the bushes with a Chiet. Or that the Endal tumbled in the bushes with other Endal and in the bushes with Avora, a fact that had irked the monogamous-minded mixed blood when she first found out. Even if monogamy was a concept to these eagle-riders, he was an Endal, and she would have had no right to complain. “Got that?”

Lani nodded, looking over the fiery red tops of the hunters as if she would be able to spot Thistle easily.

“She is the one with the long bow, and the furs.” He pointed, and Lani’s black gaze narrowed in on the stern-looking woman. She nodded, kept her hands in her pockets, and began toward the Avora. She liked to keep her hands in her pockets in crowded places like these, because her Chaktawe finger tips were too sensitive to all the movement around her, and it could be overwhelming at times. So when the mixed blood reached the woman, she did not wave or offer her hand, instead she gave a warm smile and whistled a Nari greeting.

“Hello, I am Lani. I am a Cheit, and I will work with you today.” The clear and recited Nari phrases still had a thick Common Tongue accent to them, and were a little too formal, showing her newness to the language, and that her grasp was at least good. She had grown so used to swallowing her own pride and personality over this past season, that the hollow, emotionless voice hardly even cracked her up anymore.

Word Count: 924
Last edited by Lani Stranger on December 14th, 2018, 7:13 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Face the Wind

Postby Thistle on November 18th, 2018, 2:51 am

The young Avora had a long day ahead of her and she really wasn't looking forward to it. But dawn began and that was her starting bell to work. Between the shopping, traps and little Strike, she'd have her hands full for sure. Considering that no matter how hard she worked, she still might not make it back home tonight. The unpleasant prospect of needing to spend the night outside lingered as an ugly afterthought. Subconsciously, she shook her head no at the possibility, deeply loathe to put her little chick at even a hint of a risk for longer than she needed to.

She strode purposefully to meet up, still thinking of all that needed doing. Including the fact that she really needed a new hunting knife! The market would have to be seen to first on the list.

Finally, she made it to the crowd awaiting assignments and she sent up a silent prayer for a Chiet this time instead of Dek. As an Avora, she could insist on one, but that would highly depend on who was assigning bodies today. She might not even have to with a bit of luck on her side.

She wanted to shift her feet in impatience, but she knew it was a futile and pathetic gesture reserved for children. Instead, she sighed heavily, her breath whipped away by a boisterous wind. The strong breeze blew a long stray lock of fiery hair into her eyes and Thistle frowned through it, too stubborn to move it with her hand. Her pelts would keep her warm while she was moving, but not if she had to stand still forever.

Fresh meat desperately needed some stockpiling and her snares were rapidly growing overdue. Pressure mounted increasingly on the hunters to provide and Thistle was ready and eager to shoulder that burden. She -would- prove herself and she -would- provide for her people. They needed her and it was the small feather of hope that kept her going every day. Her people needed her to give her all to help everyone survive. A surge of pride tilted her chin up proudly at this thought.

Between the size of the fattened, autumn animals and their rutting aggression, it was deadly to be alone out there. At this time of year, it was foolish to go out for too long alone if you didn't ride a Wind Eagle. Wind Reach wasn't even a safe place at the best of times. She hoped she got a stronger worker than last time. That stupid Dek had staggered under the weight, dropping his useless fardling body off the cliff along with her prized ten point buck! She could've fed everyone well but instead, that useless turd ruined her reputation.

Not to mention that she still needed to do a brief amount of shopping with what little she had. Market day didn't come often and that useless Dek had lost her a hundred pinions she could've desperately used.

She checked inside her jacket carefully to look down at the white downy chick to be sure she was safe and warm. Strike chirped quietly, snuggling against Thistle's chest and settled down to rest. Due for another feeding in just under four hours, all was well. Assured that her fluffy, tiny charge was safe, she returned her attention to the speaker.

The young Inarta waited impatiently for them to assign help so she could get moving already. When it came to hunting, Thistle had infinite patience so she could (and did) wait as long as it took to catch her prey. But waiting for people, lesser people, the whole situation was beyond infuriating! Stress mounted as she forced herself to wait. If only-

Suddenly something .... dark mumbled at her in a heavily garbled accent that had her scowling in irritation. It took Thistle a very long moment to understand what the girl said but by then she found herself staring.

She was SO dark! What WAS she?! The Avora looked over Lani from what was a very tall head to toe and then moved her sharp blue gaze back to stare at the bare feet. The scowl grew deeper and the woman's blue eyes flashed angrily at this.. this mongrel in front of her. Not bothering to hide her blatant xenophobia or repulsion, she finally addressed the girl who spoke to her.

"A Dek wears no shoes, but they DO wear a Lontev. Why do you wear no shoes and no Lontev? And could you at least TRY to speak like a decent person?! Do you have a cleft palate?"

The Avora's demeanor was as hard as her eyes and her voice dripped with condescending sarcasm. Azure eyes pierced ebony ones as she realized she was speaking too quickly for a foreigner to understand. Her pinpoint pupils returned to normal, no longer dilated in her usual quick fire temper. She squared her shoulders and prepared herself to be as patient as possible. Thistle waited a brief moment more before correcting Lani on her pronunciation in a somewhat belated attempt at helping.

"You're saying Chiet wrong. Put your tongue to the roof of your mouth and almost clench your teeth."

Avora Thistle tapped her foot to show she was waiting for a decent answer from this self proclaimed 'Chiet' that had the bare feet of a Dek. Would this be the start of a great friendship or a quick 'accidental' death for a foreigner Chiet? It rested solely on Lani's answer.

word count 917
Thistle

 

Face the Wind

Postby Lani Stranger on November 18th, 2018, 7:13 am

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Lani frowned at the woman, unable to understand the sentences completely. Given her tone, it was not a friendly hello, or a question to her health that day. It was some sort of complaint, and it had something to do with no shoes and Dek. Lani glanced at her feet, wiggling her toes. Her Chaktawe soles were so thick that boots were uncomfortable, but she sometimes wore sandals, today was not that day. She liked the feel of the ground beneath her feet, especially so in the wilderness, it had hardly occurred to her to attempt to cover them for society’s sake. She grinned then, looking up at the woman. She had already chosen to ridicule the mixed blood on a choice she made rather than who she was. She had been called Cuckoo, black hair, and Alvadian too much. It was a slightly refreshing insult to the woman, although technically it should have stung more.

When the woman corrected her, Lani lost her shyke-eating grin, but only because she had never been corrected on it before. Had so many let her say it wrong for so long? She nodded, clutching the star that rested in her pocket out of habit, and formed the word with her mouth as the Avora had said to.

“Cheit. Chiet. Chiet.” She jabbered the word a few times until it felt as if she was saying it exactly like the woman. Still, she had nothing to say to it, so she simply shrugged. “I am Chiet,” And you are rude. Her thoughts filled in the rest of the sentence, but she didn’t dare voice it, offering a light grin instead. She motioned towards the woman’s things, an offer to help carry them. Hunters tended to be territorial over some things, like their weapons, so she didn’t dare touch something that would lose her a hand.

”I travel here on my own. I work with words. I work with Endal. Not stupid, just foreign.” She explained in clipped Nari to the woman as she grabbed what she could and began walking towards the entrance. She did not say it with defensiveness or an attempt to prove herself. She had the airy confidence of someone who didn’t quite know what was going on, and suspected so, and chose to ignore it. It was hard to be immersed in a language and culture one did not understand and not develop a thick skin. But Lani had a previous haughty disposition, and even though she had been thoroughly humbled by her single season among the Inarta, she found a light and unconcerned approach tended to slow the hate and bullying down. This Avora was hardly the first to meet her black gaze with uncertainty and distrust. That’s why she hated working jobs outside of her usual scribe work, the more people she had to meet, the harder it was to blend in and be ignored by the fiery race of people and their birds.

She was lucky in that she had not come across real danger. As far as she knew, her life had not been threatened, although she lived comfortably on a straight track from her room, to the food hall, to the enclave, and back. Sometimes she detoured for a bath, but she mostly kept to herself, and in very public view. So it didn’t occur to the woman for a second that someone could be so irritated and hateful of her presence as to not allow her to return to the city with her life. And so the Chiet opened the door for the Avora, with lack of distrust for any possible wrong doing. Still being a tad bit patronizing; Lani bowed slightly and swung her arm in a dramatic serving motion towards the door as if she needed to pay such respects to an Avora. They weren’t royalty.

Word Count: 644
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Face the Wind

Postby Thistle on November 18th, 2018, 4:13 pm

Lani's echoing frown drew the Avora's sharp glare as she took in her expression. A spark of .. something lit those sinister, soulless black eyes. And more importantly, a clueless look that automatically had her scowling in a flash of annoyance. The girl's expression and posture conveyed rebelliousness and a complete and utter disregard for everyone around her. This was more than a little unsettling. Her visage clearly conveyed a serious concern about the mixed breed's ambivalence. Indifference was the most lethal thing the Inarta society would never survive. The Chiet was a clear danger to herself and others and she wasn't sure if it was through choice or idiocy.

The very core of Thistle's life were only two solid things. Her reverence for birds and a deep and abiding awareness of her community. This girl didn't even have the common sense to stay warm or protect her feet. Her total disrespect for everyone around her was deeply disturbing to the Avora. That dark crow could get her injured or worse.

Inarta were practically taught in the womb to care deeply, passionately, about their people, their duties to self and others, to actively strive for responsibility and respect, for it was the key to all of their survival. If they didn't ALL throw their weights into the harness of hard work, they would all die.

Her porcelain features showed an apprehensive misgiving about the spider in her midst. Why does she grin like an idiot at me? Was she slow in the head? Maybe her people turned her out for her mental infirmity? The Chiet was obviously clueless to subtlety and had total disregard for caste.

"When you smile for no reason, it loses all meaning." Thistle stated, hoping this idiot wouldn't get her killed because she was too stupid for self preservation.

The scowl left her face when she finally heard the proper intonation of the word she taught and she nodded her head in approval. At least she's learning. She held out a small feather of hope that this dangerous, diffident creature was actively learning and might just not understand yet.

The Chiet spoke properly then ruined the whole effect with a defiant look that made Thistle's expression freeze up.

"Your face shows your thoughts so I'd -highly- suggest your rein it in before I beat some respect into your insolent, hulking, ugly self. An Endal might not notice your bad attitude, but I do. You sound like a coughing owl with pneumonia so I suggest you'd better work harder on your words because they're total shyke!" Her tone held a promised, full on threat that she'd carry through to save herself and her people.

"A wild boar in our midst is an ugly and treacherous thing that should be put down for the good of all. Keep in mind that an idiot's voice doesn't suit a spider's eyes." Thistle spoke slowly and clearly, her furious blue eyes remaining locked firmly on Lani's until the Chiet dropped them. If she didn't understand words, she'd understand tone.

Done with the aggravating lecture, she shifted three of her six bundles of hunting gear to Lani. As she was doing so, the man at the training center caught Thistle's eye and nodded to her. He shifted his gaze to Lani and then his knife. The Avora's nod was infinitesimal as she kept an even more wary eye on this silicate spider.

As they neared the gate, her intent, hawk-eyed gaze picked up the mocking, half-assed bow from Lani but before she could scold her, she saw the bizarre and creepy hands.

"By Zulrav, what's wrong with your hands?!" Her alabaster face paled even further at the dark thing's capacity to horrify her. Thistle's eyes dilated to two huge blue pools of color with no pupils in sight.

Strike cheeped, startled at the sudden rise in heartbeat and Thistle immediately stepped back while putting a protective hand over her precious chick.
Thistle

 

Face the Wind

Postby Lani Stranger on November 18th, 2018, 5:12 pm

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Lani frowned; she was beginning to get irritated. The half-blood had learned to swallow her pride to fend off the immediate xenophobia. As soon as most Inarta got the initial insults out of their systems, they could continue on with the work that was at hand. It was possible this woman was more hateful, it was possible this woman wanted a real reaction out of Lani, or perhaps it would persist until they were out in the wilderness, forcing both of the to be quiet and work together. She understood the hate a slight bit, how people can be distrustful of something they didn’t know. She had seen it in Alvadas towards mages. Although the people of that city walked in illusion and divine magic without blinking, should someone draw a glyph or light a fire with reimancy, it became a witch hunt. Although the Inarta at least accepted that the Valintar had allowed her to stay, and thus she must be useful in some way, they didn’t hesitate to express their displeasure with her existence any time she was in hearing distance.

“Just because you’re a bitter old thumb, doesn’t mean I have to be so angry all the time. You’re a sad excuse for a sad species of human, no wonder Ivak has got you all stuffed in a volcano ready to roast.” She snapped in Common, somehow managing to keep her voice relatively low, with her fists clenching. She was angry, but she didn’t want to attract the attention of every Inarta in the Processing Center. She felt the familiar warm tingling of the second shape that rested inside her, and worry calmed her fear. She knew that if she wasn’t careful she would turn into a Jackal, tearing at the seams of her clothes and getting her stuck in them. As well as confusing the Inarta who clearly did not see her as Kelvic. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and then looked back at the Avora with a calmer expression, stamping down the magic that would change her form. It had been over a moon since the star gifted her with the strange ability, and so she had learned how to control it better, but she was no Kelvic and still had reactionary changes that she couldn’t help. She usually prided herself on having a cooler head than these short-fused Inarta, but she rarely encountered their persistence to get a reaction out of her, and it was difficult to remain apathetic. She knew these Inarta knew some of her mother tongue, but she didn’t care if the woman understood. She took a deep breath, trying to stabilize the heating magic in her chest. Switching back to her accented version of Nari, she delivered a question that hopefully put the Inarta in a cross position to answer. “I am here to work. Are you?”

The mixed blood stamped out of the door, but still held it to make sure it didn’t hit the Avora. She had little respect for this woman now, but she wasn’t going to risk the trouble of disrupting a higher caste member’s job. She wanted to get paid as well. She didn’t quite have the bred loyalty of the Inarta, but she had self-preservation and a goal to make. It was why she tried so hard for this community that clearly hated her. Any sane person would have split long ago, but Lani didn’t have the ability to. She was stuck here, and her final destination had an uncertainty that she could make it, so here she was. And now, as her hot words from earlier began to settle, the mixed blood wondered if she would even survive this hunting trip.

On the question about her hands, Lani stuffed them back in her pocket. Thistle didn’t deserve an explanation. It was actually a very beneficial sense for being out in the wild, for both Thistle and herself. An extra fifteen feet of being able to feel the world around her came in handy at times, especially for a scout. Still, at the moment she didn’t feel like explaining or defending herself against this Inarta. In an effort to ignore any more insults that might be flung at her, the mixed blood assessed the trails that lead down to the woods before them. She could see the red mane of another Inarta checking their equipment off to the side, but it seemed as if they were the first to head down, which meant they could likely claim prime cuts of land to trap in, as it seemed Thistle’s goal for the day. She was going to wait for Thistle to take the lead, refusing to look at the Inarta until she did so.

Word Count: 791
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Face the Wind

Postby Thistle on November 18th, 2018, 6:21 pm

Her Common might not be as fluent as her Nari, but the rebuke was clear. And what was a 'thumb?'

Thistle went as cold as the brisk wind whipping around her flame red hair and the 5' 10 woman spoke with quiet authority as she stalked with swift strides to the underling who hadn't yet learned her place.

"Never mention the name of Ivak with your filthy mouth!"

Avora Thistle gave Lani a hard resounding slap to the mouth with dead on precision and a loudness that resounded across the entrance. "Bad spider." She scolded in Common to make her point clear. She continued on in slow, rage filled Nari.

"Stop. Firstly, you will always address me as Avora. Secondly, I asked you a direct question and you WILL answer. What is wrong with your hands? Tell me if they're a contagious disease or a curse. Thirdly,"

She paused to stare down those obsidian eyes with an eagle-like glare.

"Never insult, walk away from or back talk me or anyone of a higher caste again. You're not -my- disgusting bed warmer, so you'd best learn proper manners for your lowly rank. Don't speak unless you're spoken to and immediately answer any and all questions posed to you."

While she spoke, she kept a soothing and shielding hand over the chick in an attempt to calm both herself and the scared baby Falcon.

"I can't work if you're gonna get us killed with your insolent behavior. Until you understand your role as a helper, a worker and an -obedient- servant, we're stuck right here."

In a more broken Common, she attempted, "You must understand words or you not work with me. They kill you for this behavers you make. Your next words should be: 'Yes Avora.' You put me in bad spot, my defend honor for rebellings."

(short but potent)
Thistle

 

Face the Wind

Postby Lani Stranger on November 19th, 2018, 8:13 pm

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The slap was a sharp kiss to her face, and although Lani didn’t emotionally feel like crying, tears triggered in one eye, seeping down the inside curve and wetting the crease of her nose. The hit moved her face to the side, and she let it stay there, closing her eyes and reeling in the spike of anger that flooded her system. For about two ticks, she had nothing but the vision of clawing the woman’s throat out with her own hands. But the physical violence did bring the Chiet’s attention to the matters at hand. She took a deep breath and turned back to the woman, not wiping the lone tear that accented her single rosy cheek. She was no Dek, that was true, but the caste system didn’t work on levels of respect. She had been warned that all trees looked the same height when you flew overhead, but she hadn’t put as much weight into the phrase. She thought, that since she was not Dek, she would be respected more so.

She opened her mouth to speak and then found a rock in her throat, not allowing herself to do so, and she finally brought a hand up to wipe the tear before continuing. She could probably take this small woman on. Ranged weapons were useless hand-to-hand. But even if she won, the amount of trouble she would get in for fighting an Avora… if they didn’t kill her, the wild would once they kicked her out. She had been impressed with her ability to swallow her pride up to this point, but this was a new level of shame that she would wear, and have to accept. She hated this place, she hated it with every fiber of her being, and somehow she hated this woman more.

“Yes Avora.” She trilled the Nari words, which tasted like rust in her mouth. The effort it took to keep a sarcastic layer from seeping into her tone was incredibly difficult, but her rough accent tended to erase most traces of emotion from her words, even when she wanted to show them. She pulled her fingers out of her pocket, examining the small black dots, wondering how the woman had both seen and recognized them as anything but dirt or freckles in an unusual place.

“I am half-Chaktawe.” She muttered, at a loss for how to explain them in Nari. “I feel… with that. Not a ‘contagious’ disease.” She quoted the woman’s earlier words, speaking up now. She didn’t quite understand what it meant, but it seemed to be an adjective for disease, which these most definitely weren’t, so it was a safe bet that it could be ruled out as well. Whatever the day held for them, it would be long and hard. Wilderness journeys were incredibly dangerous as was, even more so if they couldn’t at least work together. At this point, Lani had succumbed to survival mode, which meant she would do what she had to to complete her duty, and return to her living quarters. The usual treat of market day suddenly seemed bleak and unwelcoming to her, especially if it meant this woman would be there. But it was at least a beacon, a goal that Lani knew they both wanted to get to, that would keep their time outside of the mountain short and concise. They had a job to do, and then they would return. And hopefully, Lani would be able to take off. The baths, the Enclave, her quarters… they all were significantly more welcoming places than wherever this she-beast would be.

Zulrav did not care for the petty arguments between the mortal creatures, and whipped up Lani’s hair, tangling the long black locks in her face. Deciding this was an acceptable reason to break her gaze, Lani turned to pull the hair out of her face, fashioning it in a quick and tight braid to make sure it stayed out of her face. They were standing on the side of the mountain, and the wind was utterly unbearable, and when Lani peeked up at the angry sky, she would see the torment of clouds that chased and swirled around one another. The sun had risen now, and although she could not see Syna through the canopy of Makutsi’s cloud, she could see the sun goddess lightening the sky all together from behind the clouds, saving them the dim of night, but still making it difficult for very far perception of the world around them. She wanted to get going, but she supposed it would be perceived as offensive to as, so she merely stuffed her hands back into her pockets, and returned her gaze to the woman, a smoothly emotionless face awaiting any direction that would cushion the Avora ego further.

Word Count: 801
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Face the Wind

Postby Thistle on November 19th, 2018, 9:53 pm

Thistle gave a chime's thanks to Zulrav that the spider hadn't heard her precious chick. The insolent, selfish outsider didn't seem to really see anything outside herself and was entirely too quick to simply take off and do her own thing. The Avora knew the dangers of going out with a stupid person that needed tending. But even an idiot Dek knew when to be quiet. The sinister spider had a bad attitude that made Thistle long for the long dead, stupid smelly Dek because he at least understood. He'd comprehended that obedience was survival for all of the Inarta. Their caste system was NOT an empty display to bully or 'hurt their feelings' but to ensure the success of everyone's jobs or even promote themselves to provide more for their people.

Even a Dek could understand this and she couldn't fathom why this dark spider felt the affront. The Chiet challenged her authority in loud rebellious, Yasi-ish display, and in public, no less! The Inarta with the highest caste stood the most to lose by a childish public squabble. Left standing, any Dek, Yasi or Chiet would be free to challenge her as well, believing her weak. Lani had deeply shamed the Avora in a crowd of her peers and yet remained clueless about it.

A fake tear slid down the girl's face and Thistle couldn't comprehend why. A spider had no emotions other than probably frustration at losing a meal.

When hearing that her hands were merely a racial thing, she sighed in audible relief and removed a protective hand from the chick.

She squared her shoulders to the reluctant task ahead of her, facing a day with a deadly spider that felt only anger and knew only herself. For a chime, she looked to the equipment Lani had already grabbed without asking, wondering if that's all the uppity spider thought to carry.

In a very quiet tone she said,
"Spider Chiet, you're a danger to yourself and others so follow and be a look out. Drop the equipment; I'll carry it. I wouldn't want you to make an effort while the rest of us work." Although judging from how much the spider weighed, she certainly hadn't missed too many meals.

There weren't enough bells in the day to waste her breath trying to explain a reality that she-hulk refused to understand. Next time, she would outright refuse any further foreigners. That is, if she survived this one's carelessness and sheer diffidence.

As she passed a small group of Yasi by the gates, one of the tallest taunted boldly.
"Hey Dek Thistle, you gonna use that beast or is she gonna use yo- '

Before he could finish the sentence, she thrust him hard against the wall, shoving the side of her bow into him, effectively pinning his arms and chest to the stone and pushed in at his throat. She slowly ground her heel into the very edges of his toes as she spoke in calm, deep tones.

"Don't you ever threaten me again Yasi shyke for brains. State your name for report to the Valintar and we'll see how quickly your Bendi changes to Dek duty."

"Nisht!" he choked out, his eyes popping out at the near suffocation. She removed her bow for the briefest moment to write out a missive in an elegant and flowing Nari script. With the swiftness of a diving falcon, she impelled him forward again, this time so hard, the back of his head hit the stone.

"Take this to the Valintar. Now."

She released him so suddenly, he almost fell on the woman who was a mere two inches shorter than his six foot height. The six foot Yasi turned on his heel and ran for the Valintar at full speed, his large foot steps echoing behind him.

Thistle knew the hazing would start swiftly after that spider's antics, but you couldn't cram a fallen feather back on the bird. She'd have to prove herself with nearly everyone again for Zulrav knew how long. The young Avora refused to be cowed or she'd be down to Chiet in no time.

Speaking of Chiet, she looked at the resentful spider that caused this situation in the first place but had nothing to say to her. She picked up her things and stalked off toward the trail, not bothering to check if she was followed.

What would it be like to be a lazy foreigner sitting on her arse expecting others to feed her? To feel entitled to food she didn't work hard for? Wearing clothing provided by everyone else? To expect respect from those who provisioned HER with everything she needed? If we didn't hunt, we would all go hungry together. I bring in the animals that provide the food, the materials for clothing and shoes, the fat for every candle, the glue that goes into every bead we all wear. But I don't feel entitled enough to back talk to an Endal, or feel the next rank up should kiss my arse. I respect the next rank up because they provide even more! The spider truly didn't know her place and what it meant.

Swishing grass indicated the Spider behind her and Thistle wasn't quite sure if that was a good or bad thing. The Avora shrugged to herself and accepted the double work and Chiet dead weight she'd have to carry.
She adjusted her pack to the other shoulder, preparing the ascent up the mountain slope. Yes, she resented it but what was there for it? With a language barrier, species hostility and the unreasonably defiant Chiet unwilling to learn, there was no discernible solution.


(OOC: I guess she wants to wrap it up. Imma try and figure this out)
Last edited by Thistle on November 20th, 2018, 1:16 am, edited 2 times in total.
Thistle

 

Face the Wind

Postby Lani Stranger on November 20th, 2018, 1:00 am

Image
The show of anger didn’t surprise her. Clearly this woman just hated everything and everyone, and was insecure enough to not be able to take a goading from a child. Perhaps that was what was wrong with the upper castes. Insecurity. She could see it in her own reactions to the Avora. Val was nice to her, so that was a bad example. The old man was curious about her, and they had something to gain from one another. Kavisan was not particularly nice to her, in fact if she didn’t speak Nari he could be downright nasty to her in favor of an Inarta Chiet, but he had never attempted to disrupt her work, like this Avora did. He walked with an air that deserved respect, and so she gave it to him, despite his titling her diminutive “girl”.

Thistle had whipped out something to write with and paper so quickly, the half-Chaktawe questioned where she had those supplies. It wasn’t as if writing was common, let alone for hunters. The supplies were expensive, as she well knew, but apparently if she questioned anything, she was to be beaten. It didn’t seem the most effective system, but at least the newcomer had seen the kinder, and less hateful side of the Inarta. Yes, they were quick to temper, and make assumptions, but they usually cooled down once they got their way. Despite their mistrust of her, they were still human. But before Lani could do anything, she heard a loud booming voice echo through the Processing Center.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are?” There was a regal looking woman approaching Whistle. She had furs on her like any hunder, and a long bow strapped across her back, but she did not carry herself as if she was on the level of anyone there. Lani heard the shriek of a Wind Eagle outside, carrying the sentiment of this woman’s voice even further. “How dare you treat a Yasi as a Dek.” She had the boy by his shoulder, but not in a confrontational way, but rather as a nearly motherly embrace. Lani knew that these people did not have traditional family relations, but it appeased her to see that the innate protectiveness of family extended to all Inarta. Maybe not herself, but at least the Inarta.

“Were you treated with such cruelty as a Yasi? I think not. He is a child, here to learn and hunt, it is unnecessary for you to behave this way. You, foreigner.” The Endal snapped her head to Lani, after throughly yelling at the Avora, and the half-Eypharian looked up. She had understood everything the Endal had just said, but she recognized the common way of attracting her attention.

“Yes?” She whistled in Nari, suddenly fearful, but gladly distancing herself by a few steps from Thistle.

“Yes, why are you with her?”

“I am a scout. I am a Chiet.” She said, explained herself in quick, mumbled Nari.

“Well, you aren’t working with her today, if she treats Yasi in such a way, I can hardly trust her out there with a Chiet. Do you normally work here?”

“In the Enclave, or the stables.” She informed, a rush of relief at the escape, provided by an Endal. One that she was not sleeping with, Ha. She wanted to stick her tongue out at the Avora, but thought better of it. The Endal was chastising Thistle for hitting a Yasi, not for hitting her, which she might not have seen. Sticking her tongue out would be seen as antagonizing, and while the hard headed mixed-blood had done a small amount of that, she didn’t want to risk this Endal not understanding.

“Go to Hansi,” She directed, and then turned back to the Avora, not sparing the Chiet another glance. Lani didn’t look at Thistle, and stuffed her hands in her pocket, clutching the reassuring star, and immediately speed-walking towards the door. She would have rather have been reassigned back in the Enclave safe in the back room binding books, but there was a reason today of all days she was pulled outside to help with preparations for the storm.

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Face the Wind

Postby Ssezzkero on December 5th, 2018, 4:57 am

Endurance +2, Socialization +1, Observation +3, Acting +4, Politics +1, Endurance: Fighting the wind, Location: The Processing Center, Thistle: Avora Hunter, Dek wore no shoes, Lontev: Dek Clothing, Nari: How to say Chiet, Acting: Swallowing your pride, Thistle: Abusive, Thistle Abusing her power, Yasi: Are respected, Language Barrier: People will think you are stupid, Inarta: Xenophobic, Politics: Utilizing the Caste System, Do not go into the Wilderness with someone you hate, Thistle: Deeply Insecure
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