Closed Perfume and Sand

[Kalesse]

Timestamp: 33rd of Fall, 512 AV
Where: Ahnatep
Who: Chiaja, Kalesse, Gideon

Ahnatep had begun to rise from the horizon early that morning, just as the tribe was getting ready to settle down; dawn was only a few bells away, the skyline behind the walls of the extravagant city already beginning to lighten. The heat would be upon them soon and rest starting to sound good to everyone. Everyone except for Kalesse, that is.

Having ridden far ahead of the rest of the tribe, their progress registered only as a slight tingling in the tips of her fingers, the lack there of when everyone stopped to make camp took Kalesse a few chimes to notice. By then, they were reduced to a lumpy silhouette.

"But we're so petching close!" Pulling Haizea around in a wide circle, the Chaktawe woman nudged her mare into a canter and headed back the way she came. Riding straight into the middle of her milling tribe, sand flying in all directions and pelting individuals as she flew past, Kalesse ignored the shouted complaints, standing in her stirrups as her gaze flickered back and forth for the familiar shapes of her parents. A few circuts of the makeshift camp found them towards the back, lounging in the sand together next to their own mounts.

"Kalesse! Don't tell me you've actually come back to help!" Kike, her father, drawled as his daughter slithered to the ground.

"Don't be silly," Chaii cooed, gently bumping her husbands shoulder, "She wants something. You can tell by the wrinkle over her-"

"Why did we stop? Chaija will be waiting and it's rather rude to be late." Cutting her parents banter short, Kalesse propped a fist upon her hip, brow arching along with her question. The disruption of her plan wasn't holding well with the young woman, the thought of being late putting her on edge and reverting her attitude back to her teenage years. Bossy though she still may be, one merit that woman had developed was the lack of petulance that used to coat her every word.

"You know it's going to get hot, Lessey. The Elders..." Spreading his hands helplessly, Kike shrugged and tiled his head. "Why don't you just ride up ahead, then? Leave your stuff with us."

Though she had started to puff up with agitation, this suggestion gave her pause. After a moments thought, Kalesse nodded and offered her parents a smile. "Good idea." A whistle to Haizea brought the mare closer, the packs that held her tent and other necessary gear were quickly removed and added to the large pile that was her parents.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet for momentum before she jumped into the saddle, Kalesse called over her shoulder as she rode away. "I'm not sure when I'll be back!" But before they could respond, their daughter set her heels to Haizea's sides and they were off into the crowd.

Picking her way back to the outskirts of the camp, Kalesse kept her eyes opened for Gideon; a blonde head amongst a sea of dark hair should have been easy to spot but... Petch, that man could disappear when he wanted too.

"Gideon?"

[Gideon]

A small river of bodies flowing towards the gates of Ahnatep felt like fodder just asking to be neatly picked off by the resourceful predator. To make matters worse, a kettle of vultures swayed lazily in the thermals above, shadows flickering across the dead earth as they fed on the refuse the tribe left behind. For the Chaktawe these black feathered carrion were revered, a symbol of their god Eywaat whom they believed to watch over them. To the Outlander however, they were nothing more than a germ infested beacon that spread for many miles in all directions, calling to the stomachs of the opportunistic carnivore who felt it was worth having a look. But as long as their trek through the desert didn’t take the host of bodies through any rocky terrain where a group of sleeping Tsana might be found, the hunter felt the tribe’s journey would go largely unmolested. Even so, it did not do well to be unmindful of one’s surroundings. Gideon had volunteered his particular set of skills for just the occasion, keeping a keen eye on the horizon for any signs of danger. But an old obscure saying passed down by his father whom had heard it from his father before him, had taught Gideon that if one wished to find a threat, they need only look beneath them. The Outlander was hunched down with his bow gripped firmly in his left hand, a small desert breeze meekly pushing the kohl colored strands of his greasy hair to the side. He hadn’t had a clean shave in over a week, and the whites of his eyes were spider-webbed with red veins. He was focusing his efforts on a set of tracks he had found on the outskirts of the camp that morning, pupils tracing a pattern in the chaos of paw prints that seemed to go in two opposite directions over several feet of expanse. Whatever it was had been pacing, observing their campsite in the night perhaps, looking for a lone Chaktawe that had gone out to take a piss only to find that they were not alone. But there was no blood to indicate that a kill had been made, the tracks leading back out to the east towards the rising sun that was just now cresting. Perhaps a black dot would have shown up on the horizon if Syna’s light weren't blinding him, but Gideon knew that it would be a waste of his own time to track whatever beast had visited overnight. Slowly standing on stiff joints that sought rest but received none, the Outlander heard his name called by the familiar voice of the Chaktawe girl he had a muddled relationship with. Her beauty however, was something to make one’s heartbeat hasten, the Outlander’s eyes helping themselves to her slender curves before he hailed her with a wave of his hand and the low baritone of his voice. “Over here.” As the rest of the camp trundled by, Gideon was still intently focused on the prints beneath him, one arm akimbo and his tanned brow furrowed. Upon hearing the hooves of Haizea grinding into the sand behind him, he turned around and looked up into the depthless eyes of Kalesse. ”Looks like something was watching us not long ago. Don’t imagine it’ll give us much trouble though, given our number. How are your folks?”

[Kalesse]

“Probably snooping around for scraps.” Nighttime visitors were nothing new to the Chaktawe, for once the scavengers of the sands knew that they were nearby, the creatures jumped at the opportunity of a free meal; those that followed the tribe as it moved from place to place were particularly good at sneaking in and out undetected by even the movement-sensitive desert people.

Wrinkling her nose at the mention of her parents, the question alone making her feel as if she were but a teen, Kalesse flipped a hand at the question, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “I left my things with them. We’re going to Ahnatep.” Lowering her gaze from where it had scanned the horizon, the young woman flashed the man a sparkling grin, though a hardness flashed in her eyes as if to dare him to disagree.

A nudge of her heels sent Haizea skittering closer to where Gideon crouched. She slipped her left foot, the one closest to the man, out of its stirrup as she extended one of her hands down towards him. “You can walk if you prefer, but I’m not that stupid.” A toss of her head to motion him up with her and she clenched and unclenched her hand in a grabby motion. “Otherwise, get up here behind me and we’ll be on the way.” The strain of keeping her excitement reined in was clear as she spoke, her eyes constantly darting back to the dark splash of the city upon the skyline. “Remember, put your left foot in and grab the pommel, not me, for support before you fling yourself up here.”

Once they were situated, Kalesse gathered the reins in her hands, slipped her foot back in the stirrup and nudged Haizea into a ground-eating canter, the mare seemingly as excited as her rider to get going. Though the city was good distance away, the sand flew beneath the horses swift hooves, the air whipping Kalesse’s long black locks back into her companions face, something she only belatedly noticed as an issue. The thought of the weather beaten man flinching away from the sharp sting of her hair as the wind tugged it this way and that only made the woman’s smile break into full on laughter as she hunched down a bit more, urging Haziea faster until the great gate doors came into view.

OOCChai can't post yet anyway, so I figured we could at least get the PC's closer to the gates in the meantime Just a short post. Not the best, but it'll do.

[Chiaja]

Kassret grasped her hand as if she were about to be whisked away by the crowd. Not that there'd be any chance of that, not with her holding on with half of her hands. It had been agreed on before - they would meet on the 33rd. Had she been counting on this day? Chiaja couldn't tell; she weaved through the heavily perfumed and painted bodies of the Eypharians. Compared to them, she was dull and plain, with her hair wrapped up in a scarf and spilling out black. She didn't change her eyes, but no one was looking at her eyes. She'd come close to wearing her traditional Chaktawe wear, with the clothing that smelled of sweat and smoke. But she didn't, not today. Instead, she was clothed in her off-white chiton. Maybe she did want to make an impression. Her hair and body was freshly washed and she didn't try to hide her tattoo. Seeing her blood-sister was worthy of dressing nicely, but comparably plain.

She found herself at the gates, past the snickering of the Jackals posted there, but underneath the Lady. Off in the distance, she could see the dust from a horse or few. Kassret still clung to her so hard that a hikzu would have no hope of blowing her off.

[Gideon]

The thin seam of his simpering lips suppressed an unhinged chuckle bubbling from Gideon’s scraggly throat, warm air pushing past sand flecked nostrils as he drew his hand away from the sturdy ridge of his hip. With ribbons of hair being played by the wind like a fiddle beneath a child‘s bumbling fingers, his feet slid across the sand nimbly towards the girl’s steed, eyes addressing her briefly with a gentle warmth. It had taken some getting used to, but Kalesse’s less than thoughtful sentiments had finally endeared him to her in a way that twisted the fabric of reason. And where her pride always surfaced, his abated, until there was nothing left but laughter to temper the air, and their spirits. Gideon remained silent as he slung his toed sole firmly into the leather stirrup, taking a few added liberties in gliding his hand around Kalesse’s waist to reach for the pommel in front of her and heave his bulk into position. Nothing about the added weight seemed to charm the gray to his presence, but with her true rider set securely in the saddle, Haizea was not keen to protest. At least not today. Making some slight adjustments for the purposes of his own comfort, the pair was brought to a hair whipping pace shortly thereafter, a torrent of sand dancing tumultuously in their wake. The horse was certainly high spirited, but such high spirits only meant trouble for the rider who had taken backseat. Forced to dip his chin to avoid the onslaught of silken lengths, Gideon did not appear to share in Kalesse’s amusement, adorning a wry scowl instead. As the distance between tribe and city drew even, so did his regret for joining her deepen. But, enduring this minor irritation was only the least of his problems. Ahnatep, home to the Eypharians and a host of other disreputable figures. As if the collection of bodies weren't bad enough to the agoraphobic traveler, there were some within her forsaken walls that were less than tolerable to his presence. With a reputation for being unruly in the eyes of her debauched justice system, Gideon knew of a few Jackals who would be all too pleased to see him return. A penchant for raising trouble had labeled him a brigand, and while not banned from entering her gates, earned him trouble when noticed. Why he had even agreed to go on this venture was just testament to his reckless nature. And it had been awhile since he’d had some fun. Staring at the gates with calm repose, it did not stop him from drawing his keffiyeh up over his scalp to shade his beryl eyes from the oppressive light burning just over the horizon. His grip on Kalesse’s hips tensed slightly.

[Kalesse]

Pointedly ignoring the lingering touches, the young woman only gave Gideon a pointed stare as he took his time hauling his bulk onto the horse. Though she wasn’t sure if it was this way for her stoic companion, Kalesse felt the constant need to gain the upper hand, and he was trying to get a rise from her. And that was more than a good enough reason to let the grip on her waist slide…. This time.

If Kalesse noticed the increased apprehension of her saddle-mate as they rode, she gave no indication; her dusky eyes as well as the rest of her attentions focused solely on the city that grew and expanded before them, transforming from a mere spot in the distance until it towered and consumed the horizon. Gideon had agreed to come and if he changed his mind… well, that was his fault. She could have left him behind to babysit the youngest members of the tribe, kiss their bruised knees and tuck them into bed.

Even the thought made her laugh out loud.

Just as Haizea had begun to puff, the silver grey of her coat darkening on her neck and flanks as the heat, pace and extra weight combined began to wear on the Desertbred. “Just a little…There!” Having leaned forward to slide a comforting hand down her mares sweaty neck, Kalesse caught sight of a small black form detaching itself from the rest of the shadows that lingered beneath Ahnatep’s walls. Only then, as her heart began to pound out a crazy, excited rhytm, did Kalesse realize she had been afraid her friend wouldn’t show, or that perhaps she would be too late, or would have gotten the date wrong, or…

“She’s there!” Glancing over her shoulder at Gideon, her hair flying off to the side with the motion and giving him a momentary reprieve from the incessant whipping, Kalesse pointed at the blob that would eventually turn out to be Chiaja. A surge of pure excitement manifested in a grin that seemed to light the woman’s face from the inside, a hand snaking around and gripping Gideon’s hair so that she could pull his head forward, a loud smacking kiss followed by an almost childlike burst of laughter pealing through the sandy air.

Oblivious to the fact that this was probably the first time her companion had seen her this openly happy and unconcerned with appearances, Kalesse urged Haizea back into a slow gallop, promising the mare as much grain as she could eat when they stopped. Tired as she was Haizea complied, the ground eating pace covering the distance between the two women in less than a chime.

Barely waiting for her mount to slow to a halt, Kalesse hurled herself from the saddle, slithering nimbly from Gideon’s grasp and sprinted across the sands to where Chiaja stood, fairly flinging herself into the other woman’s arms. “We made it!” Her cry was breathless, holding the dark woman at arms length once their hugging concluded. “You look the same as ever… of course. Did you miss me?” Smirking and looping her arm through Chiaja’s, Kalesse noticed the little child at her side for the first time.

“Whoa… is she yours?!”

[Chiaja]

"Kalesse! Of course, it has only been a few days. You don't look different, either." Kassret seemed startled from the Tawna pouring out of everyone's mouths. It was the first time she had heard a whole conversation in Tawna. Before, a few little songs and some basic vocabulary had been her only experience with the language.

"Gideon." Her eyes hardened for a quick second when she noticed him - why was he here? That wasn't part of the original plan - but they softened so quickly it was almost like imagination.

"This is Kassret. She is...almost mine? She's an orphan." Chiaja nudged the child. "Say hello, kuseret."

"Hello." Kassret peeped in nervous Tawna. Did they not speak Arumenic or something?