Solo Baby Steps

Calla struggles to deliver an oddly-shaped package.

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on August 21st, 2019, 3:59 pm

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50th of Summer, 519 AV


“Horse shyke.” Calla huffed as she hauled herself down the packed streets of the Old Quarter--or, rather, the University Quarter. A group of citizens drunkenly stumbled in front of her, stalling her already miniscule progress. The courier paused and put down the large “box” in her hands. She wasn’t sure how long they were standing there spewing their gibberish, but Calla could feel herself rapidly aging because of it.

“Hey, hey, we wanna move this along or what?” Calla shouted over the crowd. “Not all of us have time to petch around like idiot children!” One hand was on her hip while the other was protectively hovering over the package in front of her. The group grumbled and threw profanities back at her, but eventually they shuffled along.

Path now clear, Calla picked up the unruly delivery and continued to trek onward. It was a chest, technically. The package was wooden like a chest, and it had drawers. The unfortunate uniqueness about this chest, however, was its shape. Like stairs, the chest was stepped. The multitude of drawers formed six step-ups. Most of the drawers were lateral and sliding, but the very last step had two vertical doors that often swung open as Calla was walking. If she had to guess, Calla would say the chest was about four feet long and tall, with a width of about a foot. All in all, it was practically impossible to carry.

To make matters worse, the chest needed to be delivered to a University building. This wasn’t too bizarre; Calla had to deliver to the University all of the time. The problem was more so that she had to deliver to a University building on the night of the festival. All around her people were shouting, shoving, and doing normal, annoying crowd shyke. The oppressive daytime heat had just subsided when the crowds emerged, thus returning the heat to the streets.

Sweat dripped down Calla’s face. Her hair clung to her face and neck in drenched, black streams. When she first started her journey, she had tried to carry the chest upright, with one hand on the flat back of the chest and the other gripping the corner of the bottom-most step. As time went on, though, she found that this wasn’t very effective; the wood slid out from her hands, forcing her hand to slip off the bottom step and onto the second. The chest had slammed onto the ground, narrowly missing the courier’s feet.

Now, she carried the chest on a sort of diagonal. If someone were to look at her, she’d look like a misshapen wooden heart on legs. The steps looked like jagged teeth as they faced up to the sky. One arm straddled the two long ends of the chest. This gave her a great grip, but an awful view. Her face pressed into the smooth back of the chest, completely obstructing her sightline. To gauge how fast she should be going, Calla looked to her left and watched the crowd beside her. She figured that the crowd was like water: the people flowed in the same direction, moving to avoid obstructions as a cohesive unit.

This was not the case. Calla continued to walk at the same crawling pace as those around her, but, despite moving in the same direction, she alone slammed into something. The chest knocked into her and the pointed corner at the bottom of the chest thrusted into her stomach. Calla coughed uncontrollably as pain throbbed through her body. She quickly--and recklessly--placed the chest on the ground before crumpling over herself. Both hands on her stomach, Calla let her body drop onto one of the steps. She had immediately started to tear up, and quick, stifled sobs fought their way through her throat. As she gingerly massaged her wounded stomach, a hand grabbed her right shoulder from behind.

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Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on August 24th, 2019, 5:53 am

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“Are you alright, Calla?” The voice was smooth and even. The simplest way to describe it was as the epitome of tenderness. It was the stereotypical defining trait of womanhood. Soft, soothing, and calm.

It was a voice she knew well, dreaded hearing, and often avoided. Calla should have known. Why wouldn’t she be here? It was the University Quarter, afterall, and this was where her mother lived and worked.

“Yeah.” Calla choked through the tears. The pain in her abdomen made her more well-tempered, which she hoped her mother wouldn’t mistake for a willingness to talk.

“You’re crying.” Renia stepped around the chest, her hand remaining on Calla’s shoulder. She went to sit on one of the higher steps, an action Calla heavily objected to. She shook her head.

“Don’t. It’s,” Calla took in a deep breath, clearing the sobs from her system. The tears obeyed and slowed. “It’s for work.” Renia gently nodded and changed direction. Hand still on her daughter’s shoulder, she squatted in front of Calla. She placed her other hand on Calla’s knee.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Renia questioned.

The courier weighed her options. Saying yes would up her mother’s sympathy for her, but it also meant she’d linger. In the end, did she really need more sympathy? She never saw the woman anyway. On the other hand, admitting that she dropped this chest because she walked into something meant admitting to being an incompetant idiot. So Calla shot the difference: “I don’t know what happened.” Calla rolled her eyes and gestured to the chest. “Can’t see anything carrying this thing.”

Renia nodded again, causing Calla to lightly groan. Her mother nodded a lot. It seemed like she understood everything, that she knew everything. It was one of the reasons why Calla didn’t particularly enjoy being around her mother. There were no boundaries. Her mother would always be her mother. Renia would never be able to see her as a functioning adult; Calla would always be her little, dumb, helpless girl.

And this whole situation wasn’t helping. Renia leaned her head forward as she tried to catch a glimpse of Calla’s stomach. Calla was still protecting her abdomen with both arms, and she wasn’t budging. “Let me see, Calla.”

“I’m not a plant. What would you know?” Calla rolled her eyes, tightening her grip on her stomach. Hurt flashed across her mother’s face, but it was quickly gone. Calla waited for her mother to say something, to retort, but nothing came. She just sat there with her hand on Calla’s knee. Regret crept into Calla’s heart. Neither of them were perfect, but when Renia didn’t retaliate it made Calla feel unjustified.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Calla conceded, tapping her mother’s hand lightly. “I’m fine. I need to get back to work.” Calla stretched her legs out beneath her. She stood with her back awkwardly arched. Slowly, she placed a hand on each side of her waist and straightened. Every inch closer to her normal posture strained her bruised stomach. It felt like her stomach had solidified into one solid slab of stone--and not in the good way. Her hand snapped back to her abdomen as she winced.

“You should leave it.” Renia said as she stood. Calla watched as her mother gently placed one hand on top of the other, calmly stating her opinion as if it were a fact.

“And then what, mom?” Calla massaged her stomach, keeping her eyes down so that she didn’t have to look Renia in the eye. Looking at her only made her angrier. “If I leave it here, I don’t get paid. In fact, I’d probably get fired.”

“Well, you can’t move it in your current state.”

“I have to.”

“You should wait until you feel better.”

“That’s not how this works.” Calla stretched all of her fingers out and lightly shook her hands in frustration. “That’s not how this works.” There was a long pause. Beside them, a woman shrieked with joy as she slung her arms over another woman. Calla tilted her head to watch the pair as they laughed in tandem. At least somebody is enjoying the festivities. She was sure the day would be entertaining in hindsight. One bad thing had stacked onto another: she had to work on the day of the renaming festival, got this absolutely awful delivery, and ran into her mother all in the same afternoon.

As Calla cursed herself for not taking the day off, Renia’s voice drifted back into the picture: “Well,” Renia began her statement in the same tone she began every statement. There was another pause, one that almost made Calla forget that her mother was even speaking. Then, Renia continued: “Do you need help?” Calla gave a tense laugh. This is how it always started: kindness. First, Renia would be nice and helpful. She’d do something for Calla, and just when she’d convinced her it was genuine she’d slip in the inevitable question.

“Is this help free, mom?”
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Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on August 27th, 2019, 3:37 am

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Calla looked at her mother out of the corners of her eyes. She’d been down this road before, and, frankly, she didn’t have the time or the mizas for it. On better days, Calla thought it was her duty to help her mother. It’s only fair, She’d tell herself. She raised you, after all. This is what family does for family. But that was often a rabbit hole. Calla was still unsure at what point help turned into a handout, or when she was being used.

“There’s a price for everything.” Renia mumbled, her eyes downcast. In that moment, Calla felt almost...relieved. It was a bizarre feeling. She was let down, of course. But it was nice to know that she wasn’t a bad person, that she had her mother correctly pegged. At the same time, she had her hopes dashed; she wanted her mother to reassure her, even if the reassurance was fake.

“Of course it does.” Calla shook her head, turning her back to her mother as she prepared to pick up the chest. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” Her stomach throbbed as she stretched it out, but Calla tried to push forward. She took in a deep breath, counted to five, and then slowly exhaled over the count of ten. As her mother readjusted back into Calla’s view, she repeated this breathing exercise.

“Oh, honey, it’s not that serious.” Renia stood at the taller end of the stepped chest, a hand hovering on both side. Calla immediately grabbed the ends that were perpendicular to her mother’s side.

“Don’t touch it.” Calla frowned and furrowed her brows. Her mother still held on.

“If I help you carry this, then you owe me a drink.” Renia’s voice seemed softer than usual. She lifted her right hand and gently tickled the top of Calla’s left hand. Calla reacted immediately, despite the affection:

“I don’t need--” Calla snapped, but abruptly stopped as she fully processed what her mother had said. “A drink?”

“It looks like you do, actually.” Renia laughed as Calla squinted at her. Calla had never, never seen her mother drink. That had always been a point of friction between her parents. Her father was a sailor, so drinking was just a part of the lifestyle. Her mother, on the other hand, always wanted to be a scholar. She was a mild-tempered woman who thought life was intoxicating enough. There was never a time when Calla sided with her mother on the matter. So when her mother offered to drink with her, it caused Calla to pause. Her mouth was noticeably agape. Renia chuckled--which was the equivalent of a normal person’s boisterous laugh.

“You okay, Calla?” Renia lowered her head slightly so that she was looking eye to eye with Calla. Calla nodded quickly.

“Yeah. I was just...surprised.” Calla was still sluggish, slightly stunned by both the pain and the surprise. She moved to the lower end of the chest, which was across from her mother. “Ready?”

“We’ve got a deal?” Renia smiled, bracing to pick up the chest. Calla did the same.

“Deal.” Calla counted down from three, then the pair of them lifted together. Renia walked backwards through the crowd as Calla directed the pair. Now that she was in motion with the chest, Calla tried to focus on the delivery ahead of her. She had gotten at most a quarter of the way to the drop off on her own. If it were a letter on a normal day, Calla would have been there in about 15 chimes. Taking that at a walking speed, it would take twice as long. From there, it would be another 10 or 15 chimes added due to the dense crowd. As Calla figured it, she had a bare minimum of 30 chimes with her mother.

Great.
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Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on August 30th, 2019, 7:03 pm

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As they walked, the crowd around them seemed to pay no mind to them. Occasionally, an elbow would jam into one of the women or a body would clash with the chest. Every time an obstacle jostled the system, Calla squeezed the chest tightly with both hands. She had already dropped it one time (well, at least only one time that she was willing to admit), so Calla figured the chest had a limited lifespan after that.

Her arms began to sporadically twitch. Most days, the work was up to Calla's legs. Although it was true that she used her arms to carry many deliveries, Calla didn't have to deal with shyke this heavy very often. It occurred to Calla that perhaps she was the only courier left, so deliveries that would normally go to larger couriers (like giant, unruly chests, for example) got pinned on her. Calla made a mental note about making sure not to leave last, especially on days with events.

"How are you holding up?" Renia shouted to Calla as the crowd grew louder. They were reaching the center of the quarter--and, therefore, the festival--so Renia needed to yell to be heard. Calla smirked. Shouting was clearly awkward and unfamiliar territory for Renia.

"What?" Calla, on the other hand, was very used to yelling. In fact, it was her preferred means of communication. Renia repeated her question, this time shouting even louder than the first.

"Huh?" Calla had heard the first time, but she wanted to see how many times she could make her mother repeat herself; was she even her daughter if she didn't do that? Renia, however, did not want to play along. She shook her head, mouthing "nevermind."

"I'm kidding!" Calla gave up the bit before continuing. "I'm fine. Are you okay?" Calla said one thing, but her body was definitely saying another. Her arms were now at a low, near-constant quiver. Calla tried to stop them from shaking, stifling the numbness in her arms, but the strain was getting to be too much. In her upper arms, it felt like her muscles were stretching further and further passed the point they were physically allowed to go. Her fingers were throbbing, because the blood circulation to them was getting to be slim-to-none.

But Calla couldn't tell her mom that. Or she could, but she didn't want to. But what was the difference there, Calla wondered. Previous arguments between her and her mother flashed through her mind. Arguments were frequent amongst the pair, but they all usually had a common pattern: you're just like your father, better him than you, your life is going nowhere, your life already is nowhere, slammed door, awkward few days of silence. Neither ever saw the good in the other, only the failures. Therefore, failure was not an option.

Renia nodded, clearly scorned by the shouting incident. "We're almost there. Don't drop it." Calla shouted over to her mother, receiving a nod in return. Calla's eyesight drifted until she was looking in the distance. Her eyes weren't focusing as her energy was being channeled into her arms. Calla tried to gain a better grip on the chest, pushing on it so that she could slightly throw it upwards and catch it in a different spot. A grunt involuntarily escaped from her as the chest came down heavier than expected. The woman had to compensate by stepping out with one of her feet, widening her stance. As she did so, she could feel the weight redistribute across her legs. Some relief came to her strained leg muscles, but not much. Still, Calla made a note of this for future heavy deliveries.

"Where are we going, again?" Renia groaned, clearly feeling the pain as well. Calla would normally take this opportunity to point out that her mother never knew where they were going, but she was two ticks away from giving up on life entirely. Thankfully, the building they were going to was coming up on their right.

"Right here!" Calla said as they found the door. Almost immediately, Renia bent over and released her end of the chest. Calla bent her knees and lowered the chest to the ground. Just as she dropped her end, the door opened.
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Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on August 31st, 2019, 6:55 pm

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"This was supposed to be here yesterday."

Calla didn't have time to look at who had spoken, because they immediately walked back into their home. This left Calla's mouth open, ready to speak to an audience that no longer existed. Instead, she turned to her mother and shrugged. In response, her mother also shrugged.

"I'm not sure what you are waiting for," The voice called from down a hallway. "But you can bring it in here whenever you're ready." Calla rolled her eyes. Most of the time, the customers were fine. Even if they weren't, she was used to the attitude in small doses. People would shoo her, shut doors in her face, and refuse to acknowledge her presence. Calla would tolerate all of this, because it only lasted for a few chimes. This man, however, seemed like he was going to be a long-term problem.

Calla bent her knees and squatted down to her end of the box. She pushed the chest over to one side so that just enough space for her fingers was revealed. Then, after lifting with her latched hand, she slid the other underneath. "Got it?" She looked up at her mother as she spoke, waiting for the woman to give her the all-clear to lift. Renia nodded.

"Okay, ready and....lift." Calla pushed up with her legs. Lifting anything with her arms would be difficult the next few days; her arms throbbed, begging for relief from every tick of exertion they were now putting out. Calla back through the doorway, then Renia entered. Her mother went to kick the door closed behind her, but Calla quickly whispered: "Don't." After a puzzled look from her mother, Calla explained. "We're not staying long."

The pair shuffled to the end of the hallway, which was already more than Calla was expecting to do. Her job was to deliver the package, and the only reason she was doing anything more than that was because she was nosy. Calla curiously looked around for the person who had answered the door. To her right was a small door underneath a staircase. The staircase was the first thing they had seen when walking into the home, because it took up the whole left side of the main hallway. It reminded Calla of home her family home was set up, and it made her wonder whether all Zeltiva homes were laid out in mostly the same way. To her left was a large archway that led to what appeared to be an office.

"We're just going to leave this in the hallway." Calla called into the office. As the pair began to put the chest down, the voice manifested. Suddenly, there was a well-dressed man in the archway. He wore a vest and a frown.

"I want it in here." The man gestured to the room behind him. "Right over there, next to that shelf." He pointed across the room. As he had his back turned, Calla finished putting her end of the chest down. Renia, confused and kind, still held onto her end.

"Okay." Calla nonchalantly replied. She straightened her posture as the man turned back to them. Renia slowly let her end of the slide out of her hands. The man's mouth was agape with shock.

"Okay what?" He crossed his arms in front of him. Calla continued to stand as casually as she could manage: arms loose at her sides, weight shifted over to her right leg, and her head level.

"Sounds like a good place for it." Calla nodded, peering around the doorway to look at the spot in question.

"I wasn't asking for your opinion." The customer quickly spat out. "I was telling you where to put it."

"Oh, I see." Calla looked up at the man. He wasn't much taller than her, which made him a short shyke. She wondered if that was why he was such a pain--compensation. "Well, my job is to simply deliver packages." Calla gestured to the chest resting in the middle of the hall. "And I have done that."

"You have to put it in here." The man lowered his brows as his voice raised in anger. "You expect me to do it on my own?"

"I don't expect you to do anything, sir. That's not in my job description." Calla moved next to her mother, who was clearly baffled by this situation."My job is to pick up packages and letters and deliver them to the address. This chest is at the address. In fact, we even put it inside the address. As far as my job is concerned, I went above and beyond."

Her mother tugged on her shirt sleeve. Ever the pacifist, Renia spoke in a hushed tone as she tried to end the conflict. "Calla, we should just move it." For the first time ever, Renia hadn't spoken quiet enough. The customer, fueled by new information, stepped closer.

"Listen, Calla, I didn't pay to have this left in my hallway. Do your petching job and put it where it belongs." The man was now in her face. Calla, unlike her mother, was not blessed with never-ending patience. She slid her right foot back and slowly tilted her body so as to make it an even smaller target. Her arms remained at her sides, for now.

"I'll put it somewhere." Calla snorted. "Keep getting in my face, and I'll put it somewhere."

"Calla--" Renia tugged on her shirt again.

"Are you threatening me, little girl?"

"You're calling me little?" Calla laughed in the man's face. "We should've brought you a mirror."

"You better get out of my petching face"

"You got in my face first!"

"Don't make me call the guard."

"I'm just doin my job, and they'll just do theirs. Call 'em, see if I care." The pair went back and forth, shouting in each other's faces for a few chimes. All the while, Renia muttered pleadings in Calla's ear. She was ignored by both parties as the situation continued to escalate.

"You aren't gonna do shyke." Calla spat in the man's face. And, to her credit, she was confident he wouldn't. They had been yelling back and forth for quiet some time now, and the man hadn't budged. He had just stood there yelling and spitting in her face, his below-average body quivering in anger. But, she guessed wrong. The man unleashed a slew of profanities as he raised his hand and gave Calla an open-handed slap to the left side of her face.

Immediately, tears welled in her eyes. It was a reflex. His hand connected with her face with a force that she hadn't been exposed to in quiet a while. She was still in her fighting stance, so the force from the hit didn't knock her down. But Calla did bend under the pressure. As she recovered, her hands came to protect her face.

"Don't touch her!" Renia unexpectedly sprung from behind Calla, launching herself at the man. Her body slammed into the man's, knocking them both down. As they hit the ground, Renia shouted back to her daughter: "Run!"

Without hesitation, Calla turned and booked it to the exit. Her body screamed in protest as she shocked her muscles awake; her body had been through a lot today, and she sympathized, she really did, but now was not the time for lethargy. As she reached the door a pang of guilt surfaced inside her. She had abandoned her pacifist mother to fend for herself. She slid to a stop and turned to look back.

Renia had scrambled to her feet and was right behind her. "Go, go, go!" Renia smashed into Calla as they both stumbled out the doorway. They threw their bodies into the crowd, pushing their way deeper and deeper into the street. Calla didn't look back, but she heard the man trying to shout something at them over the festivities: "Stop them! Stop them! Thieves!"

Calla was in front of her mother. Like a flood, the people around them found the crack between them and jammed themselves into it. Renia began to fall behind, so Calla thrusted her elbows out to the side and waded back to her mother. The pair reunited, grabbed each other's hands, and went back to shoving their way through the crowd together.

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Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on August 31st, 2019, 8:01 pm

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Hand in hand, Calla and Renia tried their best to run. In actuality, they were moving just as fast as everyone else around them. Calla consistently stepped on other people as she towed her mom. She had no idea where they were going, but adrenaline forced her to push forward.

Calla could hear music now. She searched the crowd for the musicians, and found them across the street they were now on. Four people stood with instruments that Calla didn't recognize. A small bubble surrounded them as the crowd gave them space to produce their joyous music. Calla yanked Renia's arm to catch her attention then pointed to the bubble. Renia nodded in approval, and so the pair made their way there.

They made their way to the edge of the crowd, then shimmied to the building behind the musicians. When they reached it, both of the women put their backs to the building and slid to the ground. They sat on the fringe of the crowd.

"Are you okay?" Renia's face was next to Calla's as she shouted. Calla nodded and asked her mother the same question. "Yes, yes. I'm okay." Renia sat back, leaning her head against the wall. Calla tented her legs and rested her arms on them. After a moment of heavy breathing, Renia leaned back to her daughter. With a smirk, she asked: "So this is what you're doing everyday?"

"Usually with less slapping." Calla replied, and both the women chuckled. She reviewed the events from the safety of distance. It didn't feel like she was sitting with her mother. The same woman who demanded people took their shoes off before entering her home was now sitting with Calla on a filthy street floor, surrounded by drunks. Calla shook her head. "You really tackled that guy."

Renia nodded, smiling slightly. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"Damn, mom." Calla shook her head again, giving a little laugh. "Look at you go. All grown up." The woman nudged her mother with her elbow. The two women's eyes met for a tick before disconnecting. Calla was mere feet from the musicians, but she couldn't hear them. The world seemed to fade away as she sat steeped in the moment. Her mother--her tame, little, polite mother--had tackled a man for her. Calla could have handled it on her own. She always had. But now . . . did she have to?

A small laugh escaped her mouth, slowly growing in gusto. She let herself laugh at the day's events, heartily and genuinely. She looked to her mother who, at the same time, had started to cry. Apparently Calla was not the only one using her down time to think.

"Oh, no, no." Calla spoke through the laughs. She patted Renia's knee. "Not that. Don't do that." Renia sniffled, smiling through her tears. She looked like she was about to say something, but Calla wasn't sure if she was ready for whatever sappiness was about to emerge from her mother. "Hey, so how about that drink?" Calla quickly tacked on.

Renia nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Maybe another time." Renia's voice had returned to its calm, even tone. "I'm having fun right here."

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Baby Steps

Postby Calla Davin on September 5th, 2019, 5:56 am


Special Delivery!


Calla :
Skills XP
Acrobatics 1
Acting 1
Body Building 2
Endurance 3
Meditation 1
Observation 1
Persuasion 1
Planning 1
Socialization 2


Lores
  • Ancient Quarter: Now called University Quarter
  • Crowds are unreliable and move erratically
  • Teamwork makes the dream work
  • Dealing with rude customers
  • What a gut-blow feels like
  • Socialization: Gaining sympathy when needed
  • Acting: Pretending you can’t hear someone
  • Lifting: Wider stances help lighten the load
  • Lifting: How to carry large wooden chests
  • Body Building: Lift with your knees
  • Intimidation: The art of smack-talk
  • Unarmed Combat: Taking a hit to the face
  • Renia: Knows “everything”
  • Renia: Calm, cool, collected
  • Renia: Not a drinker...or is she?
  • There’s a price for everything
  • Leave work first whenever possible to avoid bad assignments


Additional Comments: Please message me if you have any questions about your grade, and don't forget to edit your post in the grade request thread.

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