Completed Beachcombing

Eleret spends a morning at the beach.

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Home of the Konti people, this ivory city is built of native konti stone half in and half out of the sea. Its borders touch the Silverwood, and stretch upwards towards Silver Lake, home of the infamous konti vision water. [Lore]

Beachcombing

Postby Eleret on November 4th, 2012, 11:32 pm

The desert Sybel described sounded unpleasant indeed to the Konti, born of land and sea as she was. As fond as Eleret was of the seashore, sand without water, with only heat instead... She shook her head a bit, thinking about it. "Sand without water, it is strange to me," she remarked, smiling ruefully at the woman. "Maybe one day I will see it."

Eleret tilted her head as Sybel voiced a question of her own, then chuckled, amused in a good-natured fashion. "Not a people of magic," she replied. "Some use magic but more do not. Seeing, yes. All in small ways, gifts from Avalis." She held out her left hand, elbow still linked with Sybel's, so that the woman could clearly see the lily mark curving between wrist and fingers. Eleret had never been given cause to hide her gifts; and she felt that would do them injustice besides, blessings from her race's divine mother that they were. "I have her mark also, but I am not so good at using it. Most of my family does. My sister, marked by Rak'keli instead."

The Konti fell quiet as Sybel pondered her question, content to continue walking while the woman considered. She looked over at the woman as she resumed talking, listening curiously to the description of Endrykas. As Sybel spoke of Zeltiva, a recognition lit Eleret's expression which her descriptions of other places had not evoked; while Cyphrus and Eyktol were known to her as regions, Zeltiva was a place the Konti had actually been to. "I go -- have gone -- to Zeltiva. Years ago now. I liked it," she said simply. "I will go again, soon. Not to University, but to visit, and to travel."
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Beachcombing

Postby Sybel on November 5th, 2012, 1:05 am

”Sand without water, it is strange to me. Maybe one day I will see it.” Eleret seemed dismayed. Yes, to a creature of the a water, the endless wastes of Eyktol would border on a nightmare. Quietly, Sybel hoped Eleret would never have to see them. The vast emptiness could be hard to cope with, even for a native and the environment had become even more desolate with the Valterrian, according to legend. At least the Benshira hadn’t gotten the worst of it, she thought gratefully.

”Not a people of magic,” Eleret responded. ”Some use magic but more do not. Seeing, yes. All in small ways, gifts from Avalis.” The goddess of seeing. So their connection was religious? It had been an assumption on her part, but a question still worth asking. “All in different ways then?” Sybel asked. “What is your way?” She marveled at the gnosis mark, clearly in the shape of a lily. ”I have her mark also, but I am not so good at using it. Most of my family does. My sister, marked by Rak’keli instead.” That was uncommon.

“What makes her different?” She inquired politely, trying not to pry and failing miserably. “Your sister, I mean.”

As she detailed her chosen cities, the word Zeltiva stirred recognition in her companion. ”I go – have gone – to Zeltiva. Years ago now. I liked it. I will go again, soon. Not to University, but to visit, and to travel.” That rang bells. Sybel had been searching for someone to accompany her potentially. The prospect sounded good, though it was too early to tell. “Well if you’d like an escort I certainly wouldn’t mind.” The offer was there on the table.

“What is your craft, Eleret? What do you like to do?”
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Beachcombing

Postby Eleret on November 6th, 2012, 10:14 pm

Eleret smiled at the other woman as she continued to ask questions, displaying the inquisitiveness that the Konti imagined any traveler must have. Tanell had always been the same way, and which of them was it that had been Called to travel?

"The gods choose; why and who, I think only gods know," she replied, on the subject of gnosis marks and their dispensation. "Do your people use magic? Or have a... not parent," she corrected her first choice of word, "you are human, but... gods your people follow?" Surely so, though Eleret didn't think she had ever heard which gods were patrons of the peoples in Eyktol. "If it is not bad to ask?" she added belatedly, in case it might be. Though Sybel didn't give the impression she was likely to mind any honestly curious question.

The Konti smiled as Sybel offered to join her on the trip to Zeltiva, pleased by the offer. Though her experience of the woman was yet limited, she liked the feel of her -- the scent of her emotions and manner -- and having a familiar face to talk to would be welcome. "I would like to," she agreed. "If it is good for you to do." She paused for a moment, then grinned at the other woman. "You can tell me how the journey is like others." Or not, as the case might be.

That addressed the impersonal questions; the two personal ones remained. Eleret fell quiet for a moment, pressing her lips together as she formulated words in Common. It turned out to be a little harder to describe her Gift in that language than she would have expected. "My gift is... to know feelings, ways of feeling. Happy, sad, hurting..." She cast a sidelong glance at Sybel, a crooked smile. "...curious. But not like feelings. They are like... flowers, spices. Smells," was the word she searched for, and finally found.

Which left only the last question. "My craft?" Eleret echoed. "I cut wood," she answered simply, giving reason to why she was looking for that particular material on the beach. "Make... pictures, in it." Unlinking her arm from Sybel's, she led the way around the end of the outcrop, preferable over the alternative of scaling it. It wasn't particularly tall or difficult, just... rocky, and they both with bare feet. On the other side, a number of pieces of bleached-silver driftwood could be picked out along the length of the beach, ranging from the large and easily spotted to the small and less distinct.
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Beachcombing

Postby Sybel on November 7th, 2012, 1:37 am

Divine favor came more easily to such an ethereal race as the Konti. It wasn’t really a surprise – Sybel was already aware of their other gifts. The women were blessed with water-breathing, extraordinary life spans and their very own sanctuaries of peace here on the Island. Gnosis marks and mystic gifts almost came with the territory. Then again, perhaps she was being dismissive. If she’d been blessed, it had been kept quiet.

"The gods choose; why and who, I think only gods know," Eleret responded. "Do your people use magic? Or have a... not parent," Once more she struggled. Common did have its nuances, as she’d discovered many years earlier. "you are human, but... gods your people follow? If it is not bad to ask?" Ah, there it was. Sybel nodded. “The Benshira follow Yahal, the God of Purity. I however have personally devoted myself to Ovek. Luck has held me closer than purity throughout my life.” Amusingly enough, she’d joked once about having a gnosis mark in the shape of a wedding band, for she was married to her God.

Suprisingly, Eleret seemed to assent to her offer. "I would like to," she’d said. Well that was unexpected. Most would politely decline. "If it is good for you to do." Sybel giggled. “It is good, my friend.” She answered congenially. "You can tell me how the journey is like others." Her expertise certainly wouldn’t hurt on such a long trip. That was one explanation.

When Eleret began to speak of her gift, Sybel became very intrigued. "My gift is... to know feelings, ways of feeling. Happy, sad, hurting..." She grinned knowingly at her. "...curious. But not like feelings. They are like... flowers, spices. Smells." She could smell her feelings? That opened a whole other realm of questions. Trying not to overwhelm her, she inhaled deeply and asked the most obvious first.

“So… Do positive emotions smell pleasant and negative emotions acrid? How do you identify each smell?” That would lead to other explanations she hoped. The idea of a scent-based form of empathy was endlessly fascinating.

"My craft?" Eleret seemed to navigate around the question of her sister. Sybel realized she should probably avoid further comment. "I cut wood," her friend reached for the term. That would happen a lot with proper nouns. Spending time around others who were well-versed would help tremendously. "Make... pictures, in it."

“Wood carving.” Sybel supplied, disengaging from Eleret. She followed shortly behind, somewhat timidly. It explained her earlier mention of the driftwood. “I would be happy to see some of your work.” She remarked.
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Beachcombing

Postby Eleret on November 10th, 2012, 2:13 pm

Sybel spoke of the gods of purity, and luck, which combination Eleret considered for a few moments. It seemed like a potentially odd pair, at first -- but luck would definitely befit a traveler, and ultimately everyone could use good luck. Something she herself might want to keep in mind, in the future.

Eleret smiled as Sybel giggled, not following the reason for her amusement but appreciating it nonetheless. She nodded with the other woman's assent, pleased -- at least there would be one familiar face on the initial steps of her own journey, someone she could come to know better. Her smile broadened as the wind teased cinnamon to her nose, strengthened even over its prior ambience. "It is something like that. Sometimes I meet a new smell and learn to... know it. Kinds stay together, I think, but I am always learning."

The Konti diverted from the general line they'd been following, just above the implicit boundary between lapping waves and dry sand. Walking further away from the water, she paused beside a rock and a tangle of driftwood, a knot of sticks and seaweed caught in the lee of the stone. "Carving," she echoed, pausing and nodding gratefully to Sybel as she made mental note of the word. "...To carve?" Eleret asked, verifying the verb. She smiled at Sybel. "I will show you, some time. It is not special."

She crouched down beside the rock, fingers working to separate the sticks and seaweed. "I think these come from the Silverwood," Eleret remarked. "Carried out in the sea, and back with the waves." She laid the pieces of wood out on the sand, and shook her head, standing back up. "I want some like this, small -- short -- but... bigger around," she said, making a small circle with thumb and forefinger to demonstrate to Sybel. Eleret waved the traveler on. "We will keep looking."
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Beachcombing

Postby Sybel on November 10th, 2012, 7:26 pm

Eleret seemed vaguely lost as she listened to Sybel’s ‘god’ speech. Their cultures were worlds away, so it was almost appropriate. They had much to gain from deep discussion. Seeing as an agreement had been abruptly reached on traveling together, they would have many opportunities to do so. It was only a matter of time and setting.

The elaboration on her unique talent was very intriguing indeed. As they skirted the edge of the surf, she slid her hands into her pockets and listened well. ”It is something like that. Sometimes I meet a new smell and learn to… know it. Kinds stay together, I think, but I am always learning.” Sybel nodded. “Are they unique to an individual then? If so, I’ve got my own set of scents. How remarkable.”

Eddies in the breeze stirred her hair and influenced the tide, the colder air sending a chill through her flesh. The sun was just warm enough to sustain her, but not enough to fend off the goosebumps that inevitably followed.

”Carving,” Eleret intoned. ”To carve?” She questioned. “Indeed.” Sybel responded, confirming her assumption. ”I will show you, some time. It is not special.” That was yet to be seen, she mused. They’d just met, so any assertion on her own skills could have been interpreted as arrogant. “I bet it is,” she challenged sweetly.

As they paused beside a largish boulder, Eleret seemed to find her target. She deftly separated sticks from stones until she unearthed the smooth pieces of wood entirely, laying them on the beach. ”I think these come from Silverwood,” she said, ”carried out in the sea, and back with the waves.” Was she specifically after pieces from that particular forest, or did it matter? Sybel couldn’t be sure.

”I want some like this, small – short – but… bigger around.” With more girth? That made sense. If the pieces were too shallow then the carving would be difficult. ”We will keep looking.” Eleret stated.

“Of course.” She agreed. It was such a nice day. The weather was clement and the surf lapped invitingly at her toes. The silence was almost relaxing. She’d follow wherever the seer would lead.
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Beachcombing

Postby Eleret on November 16th, 2012, 12:08 am

Are they unique? Looking over at Sybel, Eleret smiled at the woman and lifted her hands in an expressive shrug, palms up and webbed fingers splayed. Sunlight glinted from her scales as she moved. "Not unique, I think. But I do not know why some are different. It is another..." The Konti paused as the word she meant to use next eluded her, then shook her head with a rueful smile. No matter; Sybel surely understood the gist of it.

She led the way on down the beach, in no more of a hurry than before. The driftwood wouldn't go anywhere in the time it took them to walk over, after all. Eleret tipped her head back, looking up at the vault of blue sky; as she did so, she raised one hand to shield her eyes from the sun. There wasn't much to see up there -- a few small wisps of clouds; a bird traveling at altitude -- but the color was quite nice today.

She shortly dropped her gaze back to the beach, sighting on another clump of driftwood and adjusting her course more towards it. As the traveler seemed to have run out of questions for a while, the Konti filled in with a few of her own. "You have traveled a long time? When did you leave your home, in Yahebah?" A moment's pause, before another occurred to her: "I asked what you liked -- maybe I should ask also what places you did not like. That would be wise, yes?" Eleret said, looking over at Sybel with a wry smile; seer she might be, but wise was a descriptor she didn't actually lay claim to.

OOCApologies for the delay!
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Beachcombing

Postby Sybel on November 17th, 2012, 5:29 am

As Eleret raised her upturned palms, she couldn’t help but admire the way the caught the sun. The webbing and scales were an incredibly unique feature, the Charodae being the only race comparable. Her scales glistened, casting tiny prisms on the sand. It was both ethereal and lovely. ”Not unique, I think,” she replied wistfully. ”But I do not know why some are different. It is another…” She grasped again for the term, finally at a loss. “One of those things?” Sybel finished hopefully. At any rate, she understood the general idea.

The easy pace put her in a thoughtful mood as they picked their way down the beach. Eleret let her head fall back almost in supplication, admiring the vivid blue firmament. With one hand she shielded her eyes from the overbearing sun, as she squinted into the vast expanse above. There wasn’t much to be seen as Sybel followed suit, but it was a lovely day to be sure. She leveled her gaze and giggled. Their little game of “follow the leader” was a fun distraction.

They shifted direction toward another likely looking pile of wood. The ensuing silence was broken, as curiosity once more got the better of Eleret. ”You have traveled a long time? When did you leave your home, in Yahebah?” Oh that was a fun question. Before she answered, an easier inquisition came about. ”I asked what you liked – maybe I should ask also what places you did not like. That would be wise, yes?” She shot her an ironic glance.

“Nyka.” Her answer came almost instantly. “Nice enough place, but the monks that police it brawl like gangsters in the street. Food is rationed to citizens, but if you’re just visiting you’re out of luck.” She shook her head at the remembrance. “The worst of it is the crack running down its middle – a ravine affectionately dubbed the Aperture. Things crawl out of it at night and all but the monks are ordered inside,” she added, shuddering. “All in all, a nice enough place but I’d steer clear.”

“As for my departure, I first left Yahebah at age seventeen. I was all too eager to begin my little adventure. It feels like a lifetime since then.” Her sigh was disconsolate. “Still, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Well, that was only partly true. She’d change some things. But unfortunately, humans weren’t blessed with the power to erase. Only forget, and that would have to be enough.
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Beachcombing

Postby Eleret on November 18th, 2012, 9:34 pm

Eleret glanced over at Sybel as she giggled, echoing the woman's good humor with a reflexive smile, but looking a bit mystified on the reason behind her amusement. She didn't ask, however, figuring it to be something personal, or just a stray thought.

The Konti frowned at Sybel's description of Nyka, giving her companion a perplexed look. "People are ordered inside the... the ravine? Is that what you mean to say?" She remembered reading about Nyka before, but not anything like that... though history rather than current practice, and not so much of it. She shook her head a bit. "I do not know how there is a city, if they fight so much." The conduct of the monks, at any rate, was a sharp contrast to that normal in Mura.

Eleret paused by the pieces of driftwood; there were only a few here, easily evaluated by eye. One of them suited her purpose, but as the Konti bent to pick it up, she paused, startled by Sybel's words. "Seventeen?" she echoed; but almost as the word left her lips, she remembered the matter of human aging being faster, and raised a hand to forestall any explanation Sybel might feel compelled to give.

"My words are faster than my thinking," she remarked with a rueful smile. "I remember, humans... are old sooner." Which was not the most polite phrasing, but would have to do. Eleret finished her motion and took up the piece of wood, brushing grains of sand from its ends. "Seventeen is still child, for Konti. Too young to do real adventures." Unless they were very unlucky children, anyway.
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Beachcombing

Postby Sybel on November 23rd, 2012, 3:43 am

Eleret’s reaction to her hasty description of Nyka was quizzical. ”People are ordered inside the… the ravine? Is that what you mean to say?” She frowned. Sybel was tempted to smack her forehead. Indoors would have been a safer term. She had to watch her manner of speech, lest she continue to lose her Konti friend along the way. The Benshira shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.” She smiled apologetically. “I meant to say, it’s dangerous to go out at night. All the people are ordered inside of their own homes, not in the crack itself.” That hopefully would clear it up. Common could be a varied language. For being less than fluent herself in years passed, she often forgot to be considerate of others with a similar handicap.

“I do not know how there is a city, if they fight so much.” She said, disparaging. The desert-dweller flashed her an empathetic smile. “Humans are a hot-blooded race, inclined toward stupidity,” she commiserated. “They tend to anger quickly and come to regret it just as quickly. I should know. I am one.” Her grin shifted to its usual, easygoing fare. Eleret came from an all-female race, mostly seers and conscientious objectors. The Konti were possibly the most peaceful people in Mizahar. Eleret certainly would have no common ground with the capricious, violent denizens of Nyka.

When they reached their next destination, the girl paused to survey the pile. “Seventeen?” She exclaimed, somewhat astounded. Her hand raised as if to say: Hold on. Sybel waited patiently. ”My words are faster than my thinking,” Eleret said, clearly repentant. ”I remember, humans… are old sooner.” It was an awkward way of putting it, but she got the gist. Yes, seventeen would be very young for someone of her descent. A baby. Her companion tasked herself once more with examination. ”Seventeen is still child, for Konti.” As she spoke, she was preoccupied, brushing the crumbling granules from the wood’s jagged edge. ”Too young to do real adventures.” Sybel nodded, comprehending.

“It would be, wouldn’t it?” Her voice was distant, eyes staring off into space. The wind tousled her hair affectionately, like an old friend. “Even for humans, seventeen is young. Foolish. Not ready for the world.” There was some subtle lament in the way she said it. “I would have given anything for one more year with my Father. But life does not care for such notions.” She sighed. “So I try not to care for them either.” That rang with truth. It was impossible, but the way she felt nonetheless. She would endeavor not to care, despite how it ate at her inside. Sybel ran a hand through her irreverent locks, shifting them back into place.

“How about that one?” She indicated the new prospect. “Is it satisfactory?” She smiled with regret, obviously uncomfortable with her own sentiment. The wind had picked up a bit. Not substantially, but enough to cause a chill in the loosely outfitted women.
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