[Sanikas Gate] A reluctant student (Flicker)

[Rista]

She had plenty of time to reconsider this rash question of hers while the gatekeeper was gone, and once he came back the look she gave the papers between his hands would have been more fitting if he had carried a tunnel viper ready to strike. It was as if the lips had numbed when she gave him her age; fourteen ears, fifteen come spring - she knew it only too well. It was her last year as yasi, the last year of her childhood; come spring, and she would be considered adult in all the ways that counted. She would be assigned to a caste based on what use she could be to the people, and the chance to rise would only come through incredibly rough work... Not that she didn't work hard as it was. Licking her lips nervously, Rista wondered slightly over the tight feeling that began to bloom in her chest when she heard Val talk about the man. A part of her wanted to listen closer, while another felt more like clasping the hands over the ears and run away, shouting as not to pick up on anything the Elder had to say. Only, this was her question, she had asked it and thus she had to listen to the answer even if she didn't like it. The girl took the papers gingerly from her teacher and shifted them until they rested safely upon her palm, gently leaned towards the light as to illuminate the writing. The writing looked unfamiliar to her even though it was the very language she was trying to learn - probably because there were no episodes about tableware or food in it - and in a way she was rather glad for it. How much did she want to know, really? The question was surprising herself the more it sunk in. Never had she thought that she would be interested in knowing anything at all about her foreign blood or heritage, and now she stood there hesitating. Weighing the options, trying to find a way to slip back into peaceful, calm oblivion. It was really too late though. The first question had been asked, and now that she knew where the information was it would be nigh impossible to push it all from her mind. His hand startled her a bit and made her look up, face blank for a moment as she searched through her memory and dig out what he had said... Once the words were recalled, the girl looked down at her hands again, the face a bit absent as if she was looking inwards, towards her own soul. "It will be difficult then" she said with a faint smile, "since most of my fears are based on things in the past. I'd need to stir it up if I were to try and face them..." Copper-skinned fingers tightened around the edges of the paper, wrinkling them slightly before she realized what she was doing, hurriedly trying to straighten the documents out again. She had tensed there, as curiosity mixed with fear of the unknown and a sense of anger towards her wish to cease asking. His words of letting the past lie sounded ominous somehow, frightening and unnerving - and they tickled her desire to know why, so strongly that her tongue tingled with the need to keep talking. "I.." she started and looked up with a quick jerk of the head, her struggle as clearly visible on the young face as if they had been written on the page of a book. The sight of the mans face made her hesitate, emotions tearing at her almost painfully. This, this was... it felt like a 'now or never' situation. Rista readily admitted to herself that she would never actually ask about her heritage again, not as bluntly and clearly like this. Val would surely tell her if she wanted to know even despite that warning. It was all just up to her.. so why did it feel like she was facing a challenge? The tongue flickered over her lips once more, nervous and restless. Ah, it was so silly. She knew already what the answer would be. Rista had never backed down from a challenge so far, never allowed her fears to get the better of her once she became aware of them. Why else did she fight even though receiving blows made her nauseous and wanting to blank out simply to escape from it? Why else did she defy the other yasi, refusing to let them step on her; why was it, that she never once allowed her half-blood status to make her feel less worthy of the things she had. "Will you..Tell me what you know of him... Please?" There was a brief look of horror flashing over her face as she heard the words that left her mouth, as if she wanted them to come back and be unspoken again. She knew though. She knew it wasn't possible, and with a deep breath Rista forced herself to calm down, relax the tensed up shoulders and look straight at the old man. Did she wish that he would refuse and say nothing? Yes. Would she settle with it if he did? No. It was decided, and she couldn't back down more than she could change her parents; she needed to know now.

[Sairque]

Val’s gentle eyes deliberately missed the young woman’s indications of anxiety, they rested on hers with all the confidence and assurance that she had made the proper decision and would find nothing but support in the old gatekeeper. He reshuffled the papers remaining in his hands and set them neatly on the safety of the bench. One thick folded sheath remained in between gnarled fingers. “I’ll start with the important facts.” His tone was a little dry, a commentary on their society. “He worked for Cedar. It didn’t start out that way, but that’s where he wound up. He was a Raindancer, you see. I suppose the old musician was tired of all the Inarta mangling his tunes with dances that look like pigeons strutting up and down in search of a crumb. Oh, he could dance.” A smile crinkled Val’s cheeks, eyes glazed in an apparently pleasant memory. “And he loved his Goddess. He loved your mother, too.” That one would sting, he knew, but continued. “And he loved you. He knew about you. The healers had confirmed Rosseti’s, your mother’s, pregnancy long before he left, and he looked forward to being a father as much as anything else.” He looked into her confusion, possible anger, and handed over the sealed parcel of paper. “He left you and your brother a letter. Why don’t we continue this conversation after you’ve read it,” Val directed with a gesture toward the papers. “They’re in Tawna, if the inscription on the top paper is anything to go off of. That right there is your name, and that’s your brother’s. I would prefer to use the contents of the letter as incentive to boost you language skills, but I feel that will be in poor taste. I can translate it for you, if you would like. Or I can oversee your translations of the journal entries I took of him,” he softly suggested, nodding toward the first set of papers he’d handed over. “And then you can translate the letter in private.” However you decide to get them translated, here they are: : My most cherished children, Having lived with your people for quite some time now, I understand that you are reading this out of curiosity and not from any deep longing for family. Still, I will not deny that to me you are more than just a product of relations between myself and a woman, you are a portion of myself that I expect to never coincide with again. I will never be whole. Your mother is a Dek. I know that if she survives until you’re old enough to read this, you still will not have been raised by her. My name is Kipashaj of the Suli tribe. Wind Reach has been a home for almost two years, but my guardian takes me back to Eyktol now. I cannot refuse him, he works for my health, my people’s health, and at the will of my Gods. You must understand this concept, Wind Reach survives on the sacrifice of few for the benefit of the rest. The life I made in Wind Reach, you, your mother and brother, must be my sacrifice. My tribe lives outside Ahnatep. That is where I go. I hope you understand my motivations. I’m proud to tell you that Makutsi blessed me with a gnosis mark soon after my Searching. A Searching is a coming of age ritual that initiates contact between a youth and their guardian, an ancestral spirit. If for no other reason, I hope you take pride in my relationship with my Goddess. She has taught me steps in the midst of a downpour that washed the dust from the land for many moons. Her touch is like a kiss of dew. You are far from her guiding hands, but perhaps our father God will watch over you. He is Eywaat, one with the birds. May water fall in your path, my children, and my Gods watch over you while I cannot.