Solo Broken Threads

Shortly after arriving, Oresnya starts to make herself useful at Felicity's Fabrics

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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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Broken Threads

Postby Oresnya Cacao on January 4th, 2019, 10:52 pm


Broken Threads
Winter the 6th, 518 AV

If Oresnya had had any doubts about whether or not she was welcome in Wind Reach, her reception at the Gates and her interrogation at the Valintar had put them to rest. She didn’t have to wonder whether or not the Inarta despised her. She knew they did.

But something had possessed them to let her in through their gates and make her a part of their city. Kaden had given her the title of Chiet. From her many discussions with her sister, Oresnya remembered that the caste was low but not the lowest. She had made it in, and that had been her only goal for the day.

She was still miserably soaked.

They had let her in, but that didn’t mean they trusted her. The burly redheaded man following her was evidence enough of that. The man rippled with muscle and made no effort to hide what he was doing. He was watching her, waiting for her to become dangerous, if his hand toying with the pommel of the talon sword at his side was any indication. Annoyance was written sharp and undisguised in his eyes. He didn’t want to be here, as much as she didn’t want him to be here. Every time she caught his eyes, the look he gave her said he thought this task was beneath him.

That was the one advantage to these people. Back home in Kalinor, everyone was so good at hiding their true purpose. It was a necessity of their survival. Deceit was the Symenestra’s to command. Trickery and lies were second nature to them and usually their only way of bringing the surrogates they so needed. So the unhidden emotion of the Inarta was a relief. With their forwardness, Oresnya didn’t have to read into their actions, search for their secondary intent.

But everything about this new city was wearing her down, and she had only been here a bell or two. The hostility, the lack of trust, the judgmental stares from every Inarta she passed. It weighed on her. There was no comfort, but this was the reception she had come to expect as a Symenestra. Still, her nerves, though calmed some by her permitted entry, were raw, ready for something terrible to happen. She was a fly waiting for the swatter to fall. Despite the brave face she had put on, her stability was a frayed thread, waiting for the last bit of pressure before it snapped and unraveled.

What she needed was a way to anchor herself. It came to her, not in a grand epiphany but in the sluggish churning of her thought. Threads. They were the one thing she knew well. Not well but well enough to establish herself as a useful member of society.

Turning to her shadow, Oresnya smiled. If he was going to follow her all day long, she’d be certain she made some use of him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her elongated canines. She began to speak to him in Common. “Where do I find-?”

“Nari only,” the Inarta guard cut her off.

Her fragile mind froze for a moment before it began spitting out the limited vocabulary stored within. “How-? Where-? I need…” Stopping before she could make a bigger fool of herself, Oresnya steadied her mind, pulled the pressure off the fraying thread, and dug slowly through the words she knew before attempting to communicate again. In the end, she had only one. Gesturing to her soaked raiments, she shrugged and chirped the word. “Clothes?”

First, the big man glared. Then, he sighed. If he thought guard duty was beneath him, tour guide was certainly not on the list of things he had ever considered doing, but he knew his way around the city and motioned her once to follow him.

On the winding route through the tunnels of Mt. Skyinarta, Oresnya tried to memorize her path, but there were too many lefts and rights for her to keep them all in order. She was thoroughly lost by the time the guard stopped in front of a door, knocked, and pushed it open. There was no pretense of niceties or chivalry, and Oresnya had to slip in through the door before it could swing back and hit her in the face.

Inside was the closest thing to home that she could imagine finding within this city. Colorful bolts of fabric of every kind lined the walls creating a kaleidoscope of beauty. Oresnya could pick out most of the cloth just by its appearance. Cotton and linen was there in excess. Oresnya even noticed some silk, though it was a bit sparser. In the center were the work stations, some with spinning wheels for creating the thread, some with looms for weaving it, and some with needles and thread and every manner of equipment necessary for the creation and maintenance of clothing.

Several of the stations had Inarta working at them with one, shorter than the rest, bouncing between them and overseeing all their work. When the woman saw Oresnya step through the door still dripping, she held up her hand and chattered quick phrases in rapid Nari that Oresnya could only catch a few words of. “Stop. You can’t… You… wet.”

Oresnya knew the first word well enough and heeded the woman’s command. The last thing she needed to do was to make herself a bigger inconvenience to the people she hoped she could work for. If she was going to last any length of time here and make any headway in her search for those who knew Yora, she was going to have to make herself liked. And the only way she knew to do that amongst these people was to make herself useful.

She watched as the man spoke to woman, and a brief and unwhispered conversation was shared between them. Wishing she understood the language better, she caught what few words she could.

“She is… Kalinor… new… Chiet… watch her.”

“Why is she here?”

“She asked… clothes.”

The woman smiled at that. “I have those.” She crossed the room to Oresnya, flashing her a smile as she came. “What can I do for you?”

The language was coming through fragmented, but Oresnya was able to piece together the broken threads to get the gist of what the woman had asked.
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Oresnya Cacao
The sanctity of blood. The honesty of venom.
Posts: 20
Words: 22403
Joined roleplay: July 3rd, 2018, 3:38 am
Race: Symenestra
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