Stranger in A Strange Land (Sirii & Satu)

[Satu]

Year 510, 25th of Summer The Jungle was there, outside the window and just beyond the longhouse. All night it called to Satu, in clicks and cries and thumps. She lay awake, sweating and listening to its humid, whispered promises. How many times had her feet reached for the floor to go? But Oni was near, as she always was and Satu could hear her breathing in the dark night. The woman slept lightly, for Oni of the Jagged Blade Clan had accepted Satu as her charge ever since the Konti’s strange arrival in Falyndar. The Myrian would never understand how the Jungle beckoned the Konti! When day dawned, the tall Myrian was not there and Satu waited. The Jungle waited also… Her legs bounced, restless. When she could bear it no longer, she stood and paced the floor, nervous hands reaching and rummaging through Oni’s belongings. What she found was her old blouse, cleaned and folded neatly. Like a rag, it was worn and stained. Satu’s fingers trailed tentatively over streaks of red tint embedded in the fabric. Blood! And within the folds of fabric, lay her suvai. Satu exhaled slowly. Pulling the dingy fabric over her head and breasts, the blouse haphazardly covered her Myrian halter top. Leaving the short skirt on that Oni had given her, Satu discarded her other ragged clothes onto the floor and stepped over them. Satu found herself somewhere between freedom and captivity, but with no definite idea where exactly she was located between them. Was she a captive again? The Konti looked at her hands. They were not bound. But old scars on her wrists caused her eyes to grow distant. Her head and neck twitched. She must get out! The Jungle called! Like a captive, she snuck out of the longhouse. Already given leave to be in Taloba, no one would care that she walked about. Satu was only watched, not confined. But Oni had told her not to go in the Jungle for her own safety. And in that light, it made the Konti’s plans feel like a devious attempt at escape. Once outside, Satu’s HeartSense surged and she momentarily forgot her purpose. Myrians were a Proud people, and a Strong people, and a very Aggressive people. The women especially… Satu backed against a wall for support. She would never become used to it! Catching her breath she wandered, staring at the Myrians. Satu seemed to look right through the populace as she read their Hearts and emotions. Some she smiled at or nodded to; others she simply looked beyond. But a few she shied away from, lifting a shoulder to her face to shield herself from some ugliness that only she perceived. Did they think her odd, these Myrians? What stories had been told of her capture? Had they met other Konti women in which to compare her behavior? And what did they know of Avalis’ Sight? Scales gleaming in the heat of Falyndar, the HeartSeer noticed the Jungle once more. She stood on the brink of it. The Jungle! Green leaves gestured and welcomed her. Gracefully, Satu placed one barefoot towards it. The dark earth was cool around her toes. The Jungle watched, approving. It called to her as it had from the boat. “Satu…” Body responsive to the hypnotic pull, she nodded to the trees. Another step and the draw become stronger. “Show me your Secrets…” She offered in the bright and musical Konti language.

[Siiri]

Siiri had left the city early that morning, far earlier than the time her bondmate usually woke up. Sleep eluded her the previous night, too troubled was she by a meeting she had with the matriarch of the Snapping Jaws – her very own mother. It was not chance encounter; she was summoned to the clan home. Such things were not to be taken lightly. For all her distaste at being in that place, she could not ignore such a call.

Her mother had spoken of duties. Again. Of the clan having strong leadership. Again. Of her daughters actively taking part in the clan's growth and development. Again. Any one of them would have set Siiri's temper flaring for she knew it was about her and what her mother wanted from her. She had fumed, yes. But just when she thought it was just another one of Ehra's speeches about “making the clan stronger”, the older woman brought something new to the table. She wanted strong heiresses to be produced by her “strongest daughter”. That, of course, happened to be Siiri. “Little versions of you,” were her words. “Who knows what kind of children you might have when we find you a strong mate?” The matriarch noted that “dalliance” with “half-beast things” were “not only pointless and ultimately selfish” but that it was “not befitting the future successor of my title”. It took every ounce of her willpower for Siiri to keep her composure right there and then. It was a thinly veiled insult to Miharu.

So she found out about the Kelvic and their bonding. Not that Siiri was keeping it a secret, but she didn't want the wolf girl involved in her mother's manipulations in forcing her to accept future matriachship. She endured the rest of the meeting in silence, brooding, her mood foul as it had never been before. It persisted when she returned to the barracks and into the bunk bed she shared with Miharu. Her mood distressed the girl, who could not bring herself to initiate conversation, so potent was her rage. She apologize however, but begged off queries about her state of mind. She also asked not to be followed the next day, to where ever she might go. She needed time to think, she said.

And so Siiri entered the jungle at a very early hour the next day, armed with nothing but her twin daggers and Slayer, the greatsword that was her main weapon. Traveling due west for several miles, she stopped only when she thought she was far enough that her frustrated screaming would not get carried over to the city, knowing the ambient noise of the jungle would drown it out. And screamed she did, and kicked, and shouted endless obscenities at the wildlife around her, releasing all her pent up frustrations. The ruckus scattered the birds from the nearby trees and alerted every predator within a mile radius of her location. Siiri dared them to come – they would only help her leech out the dark anger in her psyche. She needed to hit something, beat something, kill something.

But the creatures did not come. She was still within the area where her people had a strong presence, and no beast dared venture there for it meant certain death for them. And so after a while, her rage subsided, her petulant tantrum spent, and she made her way back to Taloba.

Sometimes, she just needed to scream.

-o-

The gates came within sight, the warriors standing guard ever vigilant in watching out for threats that might emerge from the underbrush. None would come, they knew, but none of them eased of their vigilance. The archers that patrolled the stone walls did the same, scanning skies and treetops for any sign of danger. So intent were these wardens at watching the outside world for any threats that they did not notice the strange figure drawing ever closer to the open gates.

Siiri, coming in from the opposite direction, did.

It was a woman, white and fey, and lighter in color than even the alabaster skin of Miharu in her human form. Pinpricks of light seemed to emanate from her skin as she moved, glittering luminescence that was reflected sunlight off small scales. It was a Konti. Siiri frowned at her as she came up to the gates. It wasn't any of the guest Konti healers who stayed briefly within the city to teach the Myrians medicine and give healing. The woman looked lost and in awe at her surroundings. She must be new.

And without a guardian. The frown deepened. Do we let deyhan walk around by themselves now? Who let this fairy out alone?

Merely giving a nod at the guards' greetings, Siiri strode through the gates and called out at the figure. “You! Konti! Stand where you are!”

The guards turned to look who she had shouted at but did not leave their posts. They would let Siiri handle this one while they kept to their duties. The woman rushed towards the Konti, her annoyance building up again.

“Who are you?” she fired off. “Where is your handler?”

[Satu]

The Jungle was in front of her. All Satu need do was walk out the gates and embrace it. The Myrian warriors and the guards at their stations barely registered in her mind, so intent was she in her purpose. Their presence meant nothing to her. Why should the Konti be concerned? She was not a threat. She only sought passage to the Jungle, a small distance between here and there. Full of secrets and hidden messages, Satu would soon walk between trees laden with heaviness and breathe the moist air. Lightly toward it the Konti stepped, as a dancer from another world. It was so close! Why had she not been told of its shadowed wonders before this! The magical view was abruptly blocked by a tall woman who stepped through the gate and yelled at her. Satu stopped, but tried to look past the intruder to see into the Jungle one last time. The Myrian’s emotions struck Satu hard as the woman rushed her. Strong and Aggressive, they seized the HeartSeer’s attention faster than any words or threats could ever do. Instantly, Satu was caught off guard. Raising her palm towards the woman warrior, it appeared as if she would touch her. But she only wanted to read the Heart properly, to look within. Suddenly it was there! In her mind and in her Heart, Annoyance! Aggression! And underlying those, a harsh and hurtful Anger burned, trailing away in dissipating smoky ribbons. Returning her gaze to the physical realm, Satu wondered if this was what or who the Jungle wished her to find. Frowning, she truly hoped it was not. Though this Myrian had appeared after Satu asked for secrets… In her unbalanced state, Satu was uncertain and it was evident in her face. Sizing her up as a Suvai Fighter would an opponent in the ring, the Konti studied the woman. She was taller than Satu, as most were in this city and she looked to be a warrior, sleek and powerful. That the woman was strong, there was no doubt. Manners forgotten, Satu stared at her scars and tattoos. She was an imposing yet striking figure. Satu was not intimidated; her mind had shifted too far to feel that kind of stress, though probably she should have been. “Oni has the braided hair too,” she told the woman honestly as she observed her, words tinkling with accented syllables. “But her eyes are brown.” At the thought of Oni, Satu turned. Was her Keeper about? “Oni… Oni is…” she trailed off. She did not know where Oni was this morning. “I am called Satu,” the Konti said, thought processes changing, as if her name would satisfy all of the Myrian’s questions. She spoke no more, and her distant blue eyes slid back to the Jungle behind the warrior. She searched for her own answers as to who the woman before her was, but she looked within the folds of leaves and the cries of the birds for the truth.

[Siiri]

Siiri sized up the foreigner as soon as she got near. The pale-skinned woman was nowhere near as tall as her brethren and she seemed possessed of a frame that appeared fragile to the Myrian – so unlike her and the other women of Taloba, who were built for combat. Still, she caught the lithe grace with which the Konti carried herself and surmised that that woman was some sort of dancer-fighter type. No one could have made their way into Falyndar without knowing some form of fighting art to protect themselves, and this one would be no exception.

The Konti – she called herself Satu? – mentioned Oni. Siiri knew of the name, some up and comer warrior who numbered among the city’s tiger riders. The woman outranked her by a fair bit. Scuttlebutt had it that the warrior caught herself a fair prize in the jungle a several days back but Siiri didn’t know that this Konti was it. She didn’t know why Oni would allow the pale-skinned fairy to wander about the city by herself, let alone do so armed (“Not that she could pose a threat with that darning needle of hers!”), but she was sure the ‘guest’ had no business stepping out the city gates which she seemed about to do had Siiri not arrived.

“Did Oni give you permission to be walking about then?” Siiri growled, clearly aggressive. The woman should know her place if she was allowed to inside the city alive. “You know what you might run into around here when people don’t know if you should be walking around alone or not?”

The Myrian shook her head, clearly impatient. She did not give the Konti a chance to speak. “You what, nevermind. I don’t’ give a snakeman’s middle leg what Oni gave you leave to do, or not do. Until I know what those things are, you’re not going anywhere near that gate.” She jerked a thumb at the direction from where she had come from. “It’s for your own good. Go on, turn around, go back to where Oni left you.”

That almost seemed the end of it but Siiri changed her mind once more. “Wait, better yet, walk with me or someone might think you’re some meal on the loose and decide to take you down.” She gestured towards the city, indicating for Satu to walk towards that direction. “You’re obviously new around here. What, are you some sort of healer then? Among your people, only those kinds come over here, you’d think we were dying of some disease or something.” Her words were gruff and sardonic but she could not hide the almost hopeful note in her voice when she asked if the other woman was a healer.

[Satu]

Satu inhaled. The scent of flowers and foliage, trees and wetness clung to the woman’s clothing and skin. Though she knew not the names of the individual smells, the Konti merged them together into one scent. Jungle! And the Myrian came from the Jungle. A Messenger! A Messenger, with a message for her… sent from the Jungle! Satu’s logic was flawless in her own mind. “The Jungle has given me leave to tread where I must, Warrior. I am not worried.” Satu explained. Did the Myrian even know? Had the Jungle whispered its secrets in her fierce ears? The HeartSeer vowed to tread lightly, this one might not have reached an understanding yet regarding the mystical. “The Jungle makes her choices and we can not judge them... She has sent you, has she not?” She looked to the foliage in thanks, then returned her gaze to the Myrian, smiling. “Oni is the Caregiver and you, the Messenger.” In Satu’s distorted mind, Sirii was a part of the Jungle’s plan, as Oni was. And even if none of them knew what the plan actually was, it did not make a difference to the HeartSeer. The girl’s trust was such that she carried these beliefs with the confidence and grace of a Konti who lives intimately with the visions of a far-seeing race. The warrior wanted her to go to the city and Satu decided she would do just that. Not because she wanted to, she would have preferred to go to the Jungle, but because the Messenger had suggested it. Satu would follow her directions until it was time… not to. When the woman offered to accompany her, Satu smiled to herself. The Messenger was pleased! “Yes. It is a good place to go.” Satu agreed pleasantly, taking her first light steps away, though she would have been happy going in any direction. “I am no healer.” She offered, shaking her head. The change from Aggression to Hopefulness in the Myrian’s Heart gave her pause. Stopping suddenly, Satu looked up at the taller woman, “You carry the Desire for one within you. Yet you appear fit and healthy... What need have you of a Healer?” And the delicate looking Konti asked the hardened Myrian warrior, “Are you Fearful? Are you Afraid?”

[Siiri]

“The… Messenger?”

The more Satu spoke, the more Siiri realized that the Konti wasn’t entirely right in the head. She eyed the woman warily – such people were always the more dangerous than the rational ones, mostly because of their unpredictability. She’s heard stories where such crazies had gouged out their victim’s eyes when they thought they were looked at the wrong way, or had pulled out someone’s tongue for an ill-chosen word spoken against them. Siiri didn’t want to be forced to hurt the Konti if she accidentally set her off. Oni would certainly not appreciate the gesture.

And so she played along to the conversation, answering Satu’s return questions in a way she thought expedient. “Yes… The Jungle, um, sent me,” she said tentatively. She still didn’t want the woman to be wandering about on her own though, most especially not out in the jungle, so she added in a firm tone, “You’re still not going out there without Oni’s say so, so you better walk with me.

“I am Siiri,” she said belatedly. She did not know what kind social gestures the Konti have but she did not offer one anyway. She only thought it fair to give the other woman her name since she had willingly given hers. Deciding to take Satu to a circuitous route back to the barracks, Siiri directed the woman to a side street, intending to show the woman the core of Taloba. It seemed this would be her home for an indefinite period of time.

She merely shrugged when Satu revealed herself to be no healer. It was doubtful anyone powerful enough to heal what she had in mind would just wander in the city just like that like this woman did. She obviously had to hunt one down and bring the healer to the city…and to the one she wanted healed. “It’s not for me,” she explained and said no more about the matter.

Satu kept speaking however, and Siiri could not help but snort at the new questions. Fearful? Afraid? She almost laughed. “There is nothing to fear her for me. This is my home.” Why should she feel those things anyway? Should it not be the other way around? She knew that outsiders view her people as barbaric and as savages because of their practices. How would this little Konti feel if she was show such things up close and personal? Would she curl up like a wilted flower before a fresh kill – a human kill?

“What about you? Do you even know what you have stumbled upon here in this Jungle?”

As if invoked by her thoughts, they came upon a small crowd encircling a naked man bound on a wooden stake. It was a recent capture by one of the patrols, a lost wanderer perhaps, or a fisherman beached on the wrong shore. It didn’t matter; he would serve as food for the people. This one must have been give away as a “free meal” by the said patrol. Chuckling, anticipating in amusement what she expected the Konti’s reaction would be, Siiri led Satu for a closer view at the spectacle before them.

The bound man was conscious if near delirious from the pain inflicted upon him by the crowd, which was mostly composted of pre-teen children. Some men and a couple of pregnant women numbered among them. They had been beating the man – the adults with their fists or blunt weapons, the children with sturdy sticks. It was a process deemed by the Myrians to add flavor to the meat by stimulating blood flow. The blows were not strong enough to break bone but it was still painful, as evidenced by the doomed man’s ceaseless whimpers. The screaming must have tired him out already a while ago but Siiri knew he would start again as soon as the crowd began to feed. She gestured for Satu to watch.

Almost on cue, one of the larger males came forward, a large knife in hand. He held the man’s head up by the hair and, with a careful incision, sliced off part of the human’s cheek. The man howled in pain. As the male Myrian offered the piece of meat – previously part of the bound man’s cheek – to one of the pregnant women (who was most likely his bedmate), the man’s eyes widened as he realized his fate. He continued screaming, but by then the rest of the crowd had closed in on him and had began to slice their own slivers of meat off different parts of his body.

“Aren’t you Afraid?” Siiri asked Satu. She didn’t know how the Konti would react but she nudged her forward. “You should join in the feast. This does not happen every day.”

She did not wait for the Konti to move as she came forward herself and hacked a piece off the man’s thigh, popping the strip of flesh in her mouth. Blood dribbled down her chin as she turned to look at Satu. The man still screamed behind her. His terror would only add to the flavor of his flesh.

[Satu]

Sirii’s words hung strangely in the air over Satu’s satisfied mood… Do you even know what you have stumbled upon…? The Konti’s face turned thoughtfully upwards toward the Myrian’s to give reply. And then Terror! The Konti’s eyes widened and she almost recoiled. And Hurt and Anguish followed, assaulting her HeartSense! She searched for the source, eyes scanning the crowd. Pain and Fear! Feelings rolled into her Heart as she felt him, her delicate hands flew to her chest in remembered sympathy of similar feelings. What was this? What had happened? Sirii led her closer to the throng and the Konti saw the forceful brutality of the Myrians, first hand. They beat the man viciously, and his feelings poured out in horror of the cruelty of their actions. Overwhelmed by his emotions, Satu let out a little gasp of air at the intensity of both the crowd and the man’s emotions. Her fingers clung to her blouse above her Heart, but it was no protection from the unseen assault upon her. Sirii’s hand, firm and warm at her back pushed her ever closer to the man while the gathering crowd pressed around her, making it hard to breath. And then they were eating him… Strip by ugly strip! Sirii was eating him… He screamed in Agony and understanding. The crowd swelled again behind her, and she was forced forwards. Eyes round and tear filled, Satu stared at the man. But for the roll of his eyes, he looked familiar... Her head tilted; the tan of his skin and the fall of his hair struck a chord. It was her fisherman! The fisherman that had escorted her to Falyndar, in his little boat… Did he recognize her? It mattered not. Sirii’s words came from elsewhere, delayed and whispery. Strange feelings passed over the Konti as the man screamed again, and unnameable memories flooded her mind. The emotions twisted and changed within Satu’s brain. Fear! Weakness! A lesser man! The limitations within his feelings sickened her! He did not fight! Or even attempt to be stalwart! She had warned him! Without further hesitation, the HeartSeer spun to face the Warrior. “Afraid? No! No!” She said, her voice rising higher with each word. “They should not eat him! You should not eat him! You should be Afraid!” Satu told Sirii wildly. The other Myrians looked unconcerned with the outsider’s outburst. They had seen many before. “It is not right! They should stop!” she yelled, pleading as she looked from one to another of them turning in a circle. How they misunderstood! They surrounded her and dwarfed her, it disconcerted her further as she was used to being counted among the taller of her people. Tears were full on her face and the Konti hugged herself, quieting and drawing her energy within. Satu spoke then in a different voice. It was the voice of a far-seer, a walker of the Chavi and it was more compelling and powerful than the normal musical tone she used. She lifted her arm, toned and pale, and pointed at the man. To the crowd she said, “I warned him! He did not listen… He is full of Fear and Weakness! Its taint will spread through you! He is not safe! My lips will not touch his flesh!” The Konti was angry and visibly upset and when she stormed off into the crowd, surprisingly they let her pass, muttering amongst themselves.

[Siiri]

Dark amusement rolled through Siiri as she watched the Konti's reaction at the feeding frenzy. Such a fragile butterfly she was. Not right? Stop eating? Such ridiculous notions this one had. "Meat is meat," Siiri said simply as more of the man's flesh was hacked or stripped off by eager hands wielding sharp knives. He would not last for very much longer; already his cries were getting weaker. Much blood had been drained from his wounds.

The same large Myrian male approached the doomed man once more. He had initially defered to the warrior woman to perform the ritual slaying but Siiri signalled that she would just stand and watch. Now he moved closer, knife held up in one hand, a strong voice chanting off a prayer in their native tongue, a piece giving thanks and offering this "victory" over the bound human to Myri the Usurper, Myri the Merciless. Incising a hole just below the man's rib cage, he plunged his hand in it and pulled out the man's heart, causing his eyes to roll up in his head as his life ended. The faintly beating organ he passed around to the little ones, making sure each had a bite before letting the adults finish it off. This done, he then took a machete and cleaved the dead man's skull open, shearing the top part off to expose his brain.

It was at this point that Satu stormed off, finally having had enough of the gruesome scene. Siiri followed, determined not to let the pale-skinned woman out of her sight. They had gone of a great distance from the crowd, and the residential area, before the Myrian spoke once more. They were nearing the center of the city now, passing through a wide boulevard, and those they encountered now were mostly warriors.

“Why do you flee, Konti?” Siiri asked, her tone almost taunting. She easily caught up with the smaller woman and her shorter strides, and she made sure Satu paid attention to her. “Look around you,” she gestured, pointing out groups of warriors assembled to form their fangs, groups of ten Myrians each, as they prepared to fight a mock battle amongst their peers. There was no holding back among these people – they used live weapons even in practice in fact – but they were disciplined enough that there were no deaths. Injuries suffered in such practices were taken good-naturedly, the sufferers of such helped up by those that accidentally inflicted them. Nearby, a small number of newly promoted tiger riders trained with their mounts, overseen by a veteran rider. The Myrian tigers were so massive that they dwarfed Satu, making her seem like just a light snack to them.

“This is your reality now,” Siiri continued. “Embrace it! There is no room for weakness here, there is only strength. In numbers or alone, we are strong. The weakness of others makes us stronger. You do not need to go out in the jungle to see anything else. This is all that matter around these parts!

“Embrace it,” she repeated once more, insistent. If this Konti was no healer, then she must have some other interesting use. Oni would not have kept her alive otherwise. It did not stop the Myrian from wondering what Konti meat tasted like, however. She shook the thought away though, reminding herself that Satu was a “guest”. A seemingly fragile one, but a guest nonetheless. And she wasn't hers to play with. Still, nothing was guaranteed in Falyndar, Oni's charge or not. The woman must adapt to life in the jungle if she was to survive in these parts. “Maybe you will not end up like that piece of meat back there if you do, yes?”

[Satu]

“Fools! They can not see what is in front of them!” She murmured, white locks bouncing against her back as she stormed off in her anger. Unconcerned as to where she was going, she allowed her body just to move, and her legs to stretch with no destination in mind. Satu fumed and Siiri’s acerbic manner did little to help to sooth the Konti’s irritations. When the Myrian finally caught up to her, Satu whirled to face the amused warrior, “It is not from your gruesome handiwork that I flee, but from your stupidity! You take a life, but you do not see what is inside that life you take, beyond tissues and organs… I see it! I feel what is inside!” She glared at the woman, “Deeper than you imagine, I see…” She looked away, as some hidden thing passed across her face, softening it into a vision of the radiant, untroubled woman she once had been. The revelation lasted only a moment. Satu’s scales shimmered as her arm suddenly waved in the air with a flourish, “You want me to embrace this? Living hidden, behind walls, separated from the Jungle? Protected from the World? Living alone and secretive, safe from outsiders! Strength you say!” She made a trilling sound in her throat and it was Satu’s turn to taunt. “There are whispered stories about the might of the Myrians. Stories to scare children… But who has seen this? Out there? No one! You say there is no room for Weakness? Perhaps there is already too much!” At Siiri’s previous gesture, Satu had noticed all around her the warriors and fighters in their practice groupings. Pride and Arrogance filled and overflowed them. “But they fight one another, Siiri! Amongst themselves… And then their talents are wasted picking off Weak fishermen, and runaway slaves... Is that Strength?!” Her head cocked as if she was thinking upon it. “I do not believe it is. I do see Power among you. But it is Power wasted. Wasted!” What Siiri tried to show her was lost on the Konti, as Satu’s own reality clouded the view of everything she saw. She was incapable of understanding another’s viewpoint if it varied from her own in any way. Satu lived her own reality, and someday others would share in it as well… At that moment, the HeartSeer felt Siiri’s hunger flare briefly, she would not have known it, but for the emotions released at the consuming of the fisherman’s flesh. A Threat! Her own Anger erupted in response to the unspoken danger. “You think me Weak? Like him?” Satu questioned, coming very near Siiri’s shoulder. Lightly her feet stepped, like a dancers and circled the Myrian closely as her body almost brushed the taller woman’s. “You would do well not to judge me… I am not so Weak that I need such a heavy sword to hide behind.” And the Konti’s hands floated just above the suvai at her hip. Compared to the Myrians, Satu looked fragile and delicate, so light did she appear in her paleness that it seemed she might float away at any moment. Yet she carried something heavy within and the sound of it sparked as she looked pointedly at Siiri, whispering close, “It would be wise to choose your meals with better care. Sometimes meat can kill you…”

[Siiri]

While she had followed the Konti to taunt her, to watch her react in awe at the military might of the Myrians as the two of them passed by the wide boulevard leading to the city center, Siiri did not expect such a reaction from Satu. It seemed the deyhan spoke without thinking, without first considering the impact of her words before they flowed out of her lips. And she certainly had a unique way of thinking, branching of in unexpected directions. It irked the proud warrior however, to hear her city spoken of using such words and in such tones. To her and to any Myrian for that matter, the city was the jewel of the jungle; it was the center of the world for them.

“I will forgive you this once, Konti, for your ignorance,” she said through gritted teeth. “You do not know our ways – do not speak of Taloba like so again, not within the hearing of any Myrian, for you border on blasphemy! This is Myri's legacy to my people, built to house all. It shielded us from the wrath of the heavens, when the foolishness of man brought about the big fire from the sky.

“And you think we hide?” Siiri asked with such vehemence that she practically spat the last word. “Any and all are welcome to try and enter the jungle. Only the unwitting or -” Here she looked at Satu from head to foot, contempt in her gaze. “- the foolish do. A god had come here and he died. That is the strength of my people, to make others cower even before they catch sight of us. We would march out of the jungle and swarm over them if we saw value in their pathetic cities.

“Do not ever speak of the Goddess-Queen's legacy or Her children in such a way again, or by Myri's Wound, I will cut your tongue out with a blunt knife and eat it before you!”

If Siiri had thought to intimidate the Konti with her tirade, she was sorely disappointed. Half a head shorter and significantly lighter, Satu did not back down from her. Taking the forceful reply as a verbal attack, the pale-skinned woman's expression mirrored the Myrian's, anger flushing her pretty face a light shade of pink. Hands hovering near her bone daggers, Satu's retort was a challenge. Thinly veil, Siiri perceived it as easily as a slap in the face.

“Will you draw that, then?” she dared, lips curling in derision now that the deyhan was speaking – and acting! - in a way she clearly understood. “Perhaps you need a bigger bone to play with if you intend to cross blades with me.” She drew Slayer first, holding one-handed the massive blade before her horizontally, the savage greatsword a representation of its wielder as the delicate suvai was for its owner. Her stance was easy, smug, as she considered the disparity between the weapons a sure reflection of the outcome of a fight between them.

The warriors training all around them paid them no heed, thinking it was just another one of them putting an outsider in her place. Oni's charge or not, more than anything, Siiri wanted to do just that.