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.