New Beginnings [Liriel/Abashai]

[Nya Winters]

Nya smiled and rose from her place off the floor. The dancing had left her flush as well, and her body coated with a light sheen of sweat. The forest cat couldn't remember the last time she'd sweated as a human, nor had she truly learned to move like she had in the courtyard. It was like Ry'vata but somehow more fluid, more expressive. One was for battle, one was an expression of the love of life. And Nya had plenty of that inside. "I enjoyed it as well." The forest cat twirled once, flipped her hair and laughed lightheartedly. "I will not forget dancing, not for a long time. Nor the music... nor the drums. I loved the drums! Dancing like that with you was better than hunting, and it fed something inside that I did not know was starving." She said, almost in a hushed whisper of passion, as if a secret obsession had just been revealed.

She returned Abashai's smile offering him one of her own in exchange. He was the one that had brought her out of her shell. Watching him, being with him, had taught her it wasn't such a horrible thing to be a human. Though they weren't strong, they had marvelous minds, and wondrous hands. Hands were astonishingly interesting... and she loved them. Almost as much as those drums. Nya moved to Liriel, laid a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed it gently. "I am glad to have danced with you. Honored. With all the women." She said, then slipped out the door to go retrieve their food.

When out of sight, she danced down the cobbled street, along the city wall, and passed the stable. As customary, she ducked in for a second to check on Sus, and make sure the mare was well. Slowly the horse was getting used to her, especially when she carried sweet treats in her pocket. This time, a few blueberries were produced and offered.

Then Nya headed on her way, humming and finding that the food booths were getting ready to close down. She gave the big grillmaster her wide green kitten eyes, and he sold her three roasted ears of corn dipped in butter and sprinkled with salt and pepper and six well-crammed kabobs of meat and vegetables. With her purchase clutched carefully in her hands, she hustled back to the room at Traveler's row and passed out the food. Everyone got an ear of corn and two kabobs. Then she carefully poured tea (one-handed holding her own food) and settled back on her spot by the floor. She missed what Liriel said about her bloodlines, but such information wasn't important to the kelvic. A persons heart was, so too was their soul. And she liked Liriel's so far... at the very least her dancing.

So with her little chipped mug at her side, a cob of corn in one hand and a pair of kabobs in another, Nya leaned back using the bed for a backrest and began to eat. She nibbled at the cob, somehow loving the buttered kernels and choosing to snack on them even before she tackled the meat. And then she set about listening, wondering why there was a little tension in the air, at least from Liriel.

[Abashai]

Kalanue, the Raven tribe. Abashai had only encountered these Chaktawe on a couple of occassions. They roamed toward the redstone in the eastern parts of Eyktol. He remembered some of them wore black paint, and they were quite athletic. Liriel was a tesimony to their fitness, with the lean, strong limbs of a runner. The Benshira had a tenuous relationship with them, bartering frequently, fighting periodically over the wild goats that roam the rock formations.

But then, this girl was only half Chaktawe. A mixed blood. That explained the subtle difference in skin tone, the reason her eyes didn't seem to be quite...Chaktawe.

Abashai was not surprised the only Benshiran she had met was her mother. Liriel's mother was most certainly banished. Strict traditional Benshira forbade their children from marrying non-benshiran. It stemmed from the pre-Valterrian practice of young benshiran joining to other races, like Eypharians, and turning from the worship of Yahal. The strength of a benshiran was in the family. History had proven that when a benshiran left thier tents to marry one of another race, they almost always turned from Yahal to a new god.

The rare offspring of contemporary mixed couples unfortunately must bear the consequences of their parents decision. Abashai frowned slightly. No doubt this child must have suffered to some extent for her mixed blood.

Abashai looked again at Liriel. She had taken a chance in telling him, risked the same judgement from him that his mother received. The blacked-eyed woman shifted, looked nervously at Abashai. Whatever one thought of her parents decisions, this daughter could not be blamed. As the Cultural Councilor saw it, Liriel had as much Benshiran blood flowing in her veins as Chaktawe, was as much a child of his people as the Ravens. Abashai's heart went out to the young woman, a child of the Benshira who had no idea what that meant.

"I have met some of the Kalanue, a strong and resourceful people." He made an appropriately formal compliment. Though Liriel saw her self as Chaktawe, he did not want to address her as such. The benshiran gave the half-benshiran a reassuring smile. "You have both the blood of your father and mother. In Syliras, you are free to be Chaktawe and Benshiran. If I may ask, what do you know of your mother's people?"

Before Liriel could answer,the door swung open and Nya entered, balancing enough corn cobs and kabobs for the three of them. Though Abashai began to rise from his chair to help, Nya gave him the curt shake of the head indicating she did not need help. He did move some sundry items from the table to make room, and the kelvic woman laid the dinner out, making sure everyone had thier portion before them. The desert folk accepted the tea Nya had poured for them and watched as she settled back against the bed with her meal.

"Thank you Nya for getting us dinner," Abashai then glanced beyond the ceiling above, "and thank you Yahal for providing for this family and bringing us a new friend." He then dug into the seared meat, looking to Liriel for their conversation to continue.

[Liriel]

Liriel stiffened almost imperceptibly when Abashi frowned, certain he disapproved of her heritage. But then his expression changed to one of kindness and understanding, and she relaxed. She could not be sure exactly what he thought of her revelation, or what he felt about mixed marriages. But it was clear he did not think less of her for being the child of such a union.

Liriel had never understood what was so wrong with a Benshiran marrying out of her race. Her mother had tried to explain it to her more than once, speaking of history and of strong familial ties. Privately, Liriel had thought those ties could not be that strong, if they were so easily broken. And history was history—over and done. Maybe it shouldn’t be forgotten, but it shouldn’t rule the present either. Maybe Abashi understood that. Or maybe he was just kind. Either way, Liriel was grateful.

She smiled at Abashi’s compliment, nodded. “Yes, my father’s people are compassionate and strong, and very talented. I am grateful for everything they taught me, although I had to leave them in the end.”

Before she could say anything else, Nya entered with the food and proceeded to make tea. Liriel gratefully accepted the meat and vegetables, her eyes widening at the quality and quantity. Food must be plentiful indeed in this city—the Chaktawe did not eat this well, not on a day-to-day basis. The desert was a hard place, but this was apparently a city of conveniences. Liriel began to eat, trying not to seem too eager, as she thought over Abashi’s question.

“My mother liked to talk about her people,” she said thoughtfully, then smiled. “Truthfully, I often pestered her for stories. I know that the Benshiran Tents are beautiful, and the people are colorful and joyful. They live much like the Chaktawe do, in a way, in small groups of families. They are hardworking, but love to sing and dance and tell stories. And they are wonderful crafters—I have seen some of their pottery. Even their language is beautiful, though I speak just a little of it.”

Liriel frowned, her kabob forgotten for the moment. “In fact, my mother never said anything negative about her people, even when she mentioned being cast out. She didn’t seem angry or hurt—she just accepted it. I never understood that. But it makes me think the Benshirans are no more perfect than anyone else, even if they have so many good qualities. My mother missed her people, and spoke of them as if they were infallible.”

[Nya Winters]

Nya had truthfully no idea what was going on between the two. There was something about bloodlines, Chaktawe and Benshira? Abashai was Benshira, but Nya had no idea who the Chaktawe were. The tension was almost tangible and the girl was looking at Abashai like Liriel half expected him to eat her at any moment. The brindled-haired young woman had no idea why, either. Moss green eyes kept glancing from one to another, as if some answer would manifest out of thin air and explain all the missing pieces of the puzzle that Nya just wasn't seeing. It was ... intriguing to the young kelvic who rarely let more than the almost perpetual hunger in her stomach distract her. The Forest Cat had never been truly without food. Nya was graced to have been born in a land of plenty where food literally crossed her path often, and water flowed freely. She would have been really surprised if she could somehow know Liriel's thoughts about the snack she'd brought them. The young kelvic had to eat, and eat a lot, to support her shapeshifting and to fuel the growth she was currently undergoing.

But this tension was puzzling. Nya studied Abashai's features for clues when nothing so far that had been said revealed the problem to her. His blue green eyes were guarded, but his expression was warm, almost neutral, as if he his thoughts were conflicted too. But there was a flash of insight in his gaze, a knowledge of understanding that tempered whatever else he was thinking or feeling. He knew. Whatever was wrong in the air, or what had made the girl nervous, Nya read a perfect understanding of it in her bondmate's features.

Nya furrowed her brow, her tongue making long strokes on the corn, punctuated by delicate nibbles as her sharp teeth pried away kernels from their cob, almost absentmindedly.

Liriel kept speaking, but it was as if they were dancing around something - something Nya didn't understand but they were both well aware of. The forest cat furrowed her human brows yet again. What in the world were they talking about but not really speaking of at all? Then Liriel gave her a clue, the one tiny fact Nya needed to latch onto to understand the proverbial prey that the two humans were so delicately circling around. She latched onto it, her curiosity burning a whole in her heart. "Wait. Your mother was cast out? From her own family? Why would someone's family ever do something like that? And why would your mother forgive them like she expected it?" Nya asked carefully, testing the waters to see if they would explain. She was pretty sure cast out meant forced to leave, and if that was true, Nya understood such things well enough.

[Abashai]

Abashai weighed the conversation carefully. Liriel was new and young and alone in the city. She managed to make it safely this far, an astounding feat, given the dangers he himself had faced on the journey. Perhaps a god watched over her too. But now that she was here, he did not want to offend her. Nya and he could not help her if the girl turned her back on them.

Nya's question was a valid one. He looked over at his bondmate, that feline curiosity burning in her brilliant eyes. When they were alone, he would tell Nya about the Chaktawe. Perhaps Liriel would tell her herself.

Liriel's comments, and Nya's question, made Abashai grow a bit defensive, as if there was an indictment growing against the Benshira. But the man had learned from his kelvic bondmate that, when making friends, words from the heart were best. He scooted his chair back a bit, to allow the conversation to include Nya as well.

"It is true. Only rarely do Benshira marry with other races, but when they do, they are not usually welcomed. Our people survive in the desert by the strength and numbers in our families. These families often must rely on the aid of other families. Marriages between families create and build a network that crisscrosses the desert. This form of society is necessary for us to survive as a people in a harsh land. When a daughter or son marry outside the Benshira, the family does not grow. Also, there is the risk that outside influences could compromise the values and faith that has kept our people for centuries."

That was the ideological answer. Abashai was a representative of the Benshira, and would not contradict his people's traditions. However, there were things in his heart he must share as well.

"I lived my entire adult life without a family in the desert. I did not have a family to support, flocks to keep. I do not know how one could make someone leave their family, because I have not been in their sandals." He glanced at Nya. "I don't think I could do it." His gaze returned to their guest. "But I believe your mother understood why it had to happen, Liriel. There is something beautiful in that someone would give up everything for love."

"Do not judge the Benshira too harshly. You are right, benshirans are not perfect people, nor are our ways. Like most peoples, we are doing what we can to survive and grow in this shattered world. Perhaps the Chaktawe and Benshira will learn one day to live closer together. In the meantime, we are striving to live among other races here."

Taking a sip of tea, Abashai continued. "I hope you will not mind but, to me, you are as much Benshira as Chaktawe, Liriel of the sons of Malech."

[Liriel]

Liriel understood the confusion behind Nya’s comment perfectly; it was a confusion she had always shared. Her mother and father had loved her and cared for her, and she could not imagine them sending her away. It did not seem possible. But she hardly wanted to offend Abashi by agreeing with Nya’s assessment, and she did not fully understand the reasons herself, so she remained silent while Abashi answered the question.

His words were fair and neutral, though Liriel sensed a little tension beneath them. Was he offended? Did he think she had meant to speak ill of his culture? That had hardly been her intention, but his words about not judging the Benshira too harshly confirmed her fear. For a moment, she thought she had alienated the only Benshiran she had ever met.

His final words, then, were completely unexpected. Abashi considered her Benshiran, despite her lack of ties with her mother’s culture? A sense of relief and gratefulness washed over her, and her gaze was sincere and hopeful.

“It means a lot to me that you would say that, though I don’t understand why you would. Honestly, I have never been sure what to consider myself. Not a Chaktawe, not completely. It was always obvious to me I could not live as one of them. I am too different, too unsuited for their way of life.”

She hesitated for a moment, then gazed down at her tea cup and said slowly, “Truthfully, I always wondered if I would not fit better into a Benshiran way of life. I begged my mother for stories because I thought that maybe, someday, I would go to Yahebah and try to live among her people instead. But I didn’t know if they would accept me, or if I would even like it there. I thought maybe I would feel just as out of place. So I came here.”

Earnestly she added, “And I really did not mean to criticize the Benshira, not at all. In a way, I’ve always idolized them. I just imagine they are probably not quite what I expect.” She smiled, the smile of one comfortable in herself and her company. “You certainly are not.”

[Nya Winters]

Nya's eyes widened slightly as she listened. Though to her credit, the young kelvic said nothing, letting both Abashai and Liriel speak all they wished before she made any action or comment at all. At first, she watched her bondmate and swore if he had hackles, they would be raised. Why was Abashai looking slightly defensive? It puzzled her. And then his words washed over her, gently, and took their time sinking in. His people, the Benshira, did not take mates with outsiders who did not have Benshira blood. If they did, they were cast out of their families because somehow outsiders made their families weaker. It made ... very little sense to Nya. A hundred questions came to mind, and she wanted to interrupt, to demand a further explanation. But she held her tongue. If someone had no Benshira blood, then a family could not grow. They didn't have offspring? No... Liriel was there... proof that offspring happened. But somehow, that mating corrupted and weakened the family. Her mind wove circles as a sadness washed over her and settled into her heart.

Rather than speak, she set aside her food, forgotten, and sat very still. Her mind moved back in time, back to the place she lived before here, to the family she came from and all the peace they had. It was not a perfect situation, but there was a great deal of happiness in it. But they had been alone, together, and there were no tents or aunts and siblings and grandparents, and cousins. Nya's mother had lived alone, by choice, even before Ulvik, Nya's father, came into her life. What defined strength in a family? Had her mother somehow been cast out? No... Nya did not think so. Her mother had not been Benshira. Nya was fairly certain of it. Zilvia had once said she simply didn't tolerate people well. Nya wished now that she had asked more questions. So where was the weakness? Nya trusted Abashai's word, absolutely, so though she could not see it, that didn't mean weakness didn't exist. The forest cat knew her own strengths, and conversely her own weaknesses. Nya knew she was ignorant, uneducated, and was afraid to speak out, to ask further questions to get some clarification. Even Liriel knew the answers. Nya, afraid to feel stupid, held her tongue.

Instead, she examined the sadness that bloomed within her. The life Abashai outlined, the families interconnected and interwoven, made her realize something very important. Nya bowed her head and lifted a hand to touch her own chest, puzzled by the pain there. She splayed her fingers over her heart as if to keep the flesh beneath her digits from bleeding outwards. Fingers turned to claws, and she dropped her head letting a curtain of brindled hair fall in front of her face, concealing her features. Inside her, the forest cat wanted to roar while the human kept it firmly in check. Abashai was faithful. His faith was written on his wrists, on his hands, and on the very face that surveyed both the women in the room. There could be no doubt about that. Abashai was Benshira completely. And though Nya had no idea why he lived in the desert with all the families around him but part of none of them, she couldn't help but feel a sadness about how hard that must have been. It was an omission that surprised her, one that caused her hand to slide up her chest and wrap around her neck to rub at the back of it in confusion.

He was of them, yet apart, even here in Syliras. He defended them, asked for acceptance rather than harsh judgment, and in his own way condoned something he couldn't understand either... without quite being critical. Nya's head spun and her mind got suddenly crowded with thoughts. And even then, the realization did not ebb, nor did the pain that came with it.

It' was not going to be an easy life.

And still, it was not one Nya would trade. She sighed softly, her appetite gone for perhaps one of the first times in her life. But to distract herself, her eyes moved to Liriel's form, studying it, trying to discern what was different about her appearance from Abashais. Both human, both interesting... the kelvic missed the subtle cues, the differences in skin tone, and the features that identified each as uniquely what they were. Not understanding at all, she instead focused on Liriels voice. In fact, Nya took a whole lot of comfort from the fact that Liriel seemed as equally confused about Abashai's explanation as Nya did herself. Or so that's what Nya thought she was saying when she said she didn't understand why Abashai would accept her like he did. And Nya listened, while Liriel speculated about fitting in more closely with the Benshira than with the Chaktawe. For some reason, it made Nya mad. She wondered, if in that moment, she was more like her mother than she thought. Her life alone was happy. Not dependent on being this or that.... but rather on the virtue of her own actions. Zivilia made her own happiness.

Nya cleared her throat, tossing her head a moment, but still not quite flicking the hair that had been growing longer lately all out of her eyes to reveal her face. With features still concealed, Nya quietly spoke.

"You should not be who you are because of the blood that flows within you. Flesh is flesh. It is born, ages, and dies like all the rest of the flesh in the world. I was once told we were born alone, and we too leave the world alone. As you move through it, your decisions should be yours only... not those of the Benshira or the Chaktawe. You should just be Liriel. It seems to me that would be the easiest and best path for you." Nya said gently, though there was a hint of something... rage... in her voice.

[Abashai]

Abashai's glance shot to Nya. Though Liriel may not have discerned it, he could detect the underlying emotion in the alto voice, an indignation in the moss green eyes. Of course, to an extent, Nya was right. But people and situations could not always be boiled down to such a simple philosophy.

Abashai grew impatient. Nya was his bondmate and what he felt for her was as close to love as he had ever felt. But she still had much to learn about human culture, and these were complicated matters she could not yet understand. The whole conversation had become uncomfortable, the subject hitting nerves he did not realize were still raw.

The benshiran glared into the green eyes. "What you say is true. And here in Syliras, it is easy to be whoever you want to be." He gestured to the remains of the meat and vegetables on the table, the bucket of water by the fire. "Food and water and shelter are plentiful and available for everyone. But where we come from, life is a daily struggle for food and water. We have teach our children how to use slings to defend our life-giving flocks from deadly predators." He glanced momentarily at Liriel. "The Chaktawe have to following the creatures they must hunt to survive, must scrounge for the scarce plants that can treat their sick. There are no safe roads patrolled by benevolent knights, there are no roads. If we do not find water, we die. If we find ourselves without shelter," Abashai paused, eyes glazing at distant memories, his jaws rippling as his teeth momentarily clenched, "Zulrav buries us."

"Benshira and Chaktawe are the way we are, follow our ways, because we have to in order to survive. Sometimes those ways seem harsh. The Chaktawe send their teens alone out into the wilderness. Because they don't love them? No, because they do. because that's what they have to do to find what they need within themselves to survive. If you have not been there, you cannot understand what it is like. In the desert, to not be Benshiran or Chaktawe, meant you did not live. It is our identity, it is who we are."

He looked back at Liriel, a bit sheepishly. Abashai tried to soften his voice, realizing how impassioned it had become. "I do not know everything about your mother's situation. I do not believe all benshiran families would completely cut ties as your mother's did, though I know she, and you, would have been treated as differently among the Benshira as you were among the Chaktawe." That statement pierced his heart, for as much as he defended the desert people, he knew that it was not right. The evidence sat before him. Hypocrite! For all his lecture on the necessity of a solid united family to survive, he was not part of his family's tents. He was not cast out, he abandoned them. A crushing weight fell on his chest. Long supressed memories of his sisters, his uncles, Omri, the family he left over twelve years ago, bled through his carefully kept defenses.

"I'm sorry, Liriel." It was not only an apology for himself, but for all of the Benshiran and Chaktawe who had failed her. The Benshiran stood from his chair, picked up his cup and moved to the fire to refill it with tea. He did not meet the glance of either woman. He regretted how he had spoken to Nya, lost his patience. She looked to him for understanding, and he had belittled her. He hated the thought of hurting her.

Abashai could feel his walls going up again, a stone at a time. He gripped the mug, hiding his trembling hands. He closed his eyes, mentally fighting himself. The man knew the time would come, he would confront the guilt, he would have to tell Nya. Yahal had forgiven him for his sin, but Abashai never reconciled with his own family.

Selfish! This is not about you. He was not what tonight was about. The benshiran's focus was forced to Liriel, though he did not look her way. This young woman needed someone. If she wanted to learn about being Benshiran, he would teach her. Sometimes humans needed to belong to something bigger than themselves. But Nya was right. The beauty of being in Syliras, of having friends like Nya and himself, was that she could be just Liriel, just like he was learning to be more than a benshiran. He was learning to be a bondmate, a councilman, a friend. Abashai tried to swallow his shame, chased it down with hot benshiran tea.

[Liriel]

Liriel watched, eyes wide, as Nya and Abashi spoke. Though Nya looked her way, the words seemed meant for Abashi, and there was surprising emotion beneath them. Abashi’s retort carried just as much emotion, and though what he said was nearly the opposite of what Nya had said, Liriel thought there was truth in both sides. Nya’s advice held its own wisdom, and Abashi’s description of desert life was poignant and very true.

Liriel knew she was probably missing something here—there were probably other issues, other conversations influencing this one. Abashi and Nya seemed close, though she couldn’t quite work out what their relationship was. But though she knew she only saw a piece of what was going on, the negotiator within her led her to speak her thoughts.

“I think,” she said carefully, “that you are both right, in a way. It is good to be yourself, to make your own decisions. You can’t let others control your life for you. When we are children we depend on our families, but we grow up so that we can learn to be ourselves. That is why I came to Syliras, to learn who I am, because I know I am more than just a Chaktawe or even a Benshiran.”

She looked at Abashi, briefly, then at Nya. “But we aren’t alone—we live among other people, and I think there’s a reason for that. It isn’t right to cut yourself off. Everyone needs to belong somewhere, to have people they can fall back on. People to dance with, to have conversation with like we are doing right now.”

Liriel gazed at the opposite wall, fingering the rim of her teacup. She paid little attention to the other two’s expressions, merely to her own thoughts. “We should make our own decisions, but we shouldn’t forget that those decisions impact other people. I think that most of the time we can accomplish more if we work together. And maybe, one person can have more than one identity. Maybe there is Liriel, Chaktawe Liriel, and Benshiran Liriel, and they all say different things about what I am. Maybe they are all equally important.”

For a moment Liriel was quiet, thinking this over. It was not something she had considered before, but it felt right. Was it wrong to try and force every part of her to fit together? Maybe she could be Chaktawe and Benshiran at the same time. It was a liberating idea, though she didn’t quite trust it.

[Nya Winters]

Nya had no apology whatsoever for Abashai. It was neither her fault that life was so harsh in the desert, nor was it again her fault that food was so plentiful here. She was born in northern Syliras on the boarder of Taldera. And if she had no ability to understand because she had been no where else then here, then she would not speak of it, again, ever. His voice colored by his loss of patience, and his blue green eyes glared into hers. She met his boldly, but as her kind was often known to do, she glanced away acknowledging his dominance and that he, not her, was their leader. Nya fought the urge to growl, to flatten her ears and lash her tail, and to transmit her displeasure. But they were not alone, and the forest cat was well aware of how stupid her words could sound or even her thoughts could be in the presence of other humans, so she did nothing, said nothing, and simply practiced breathing slowly, keeping calm, and trying not to feel to hurt that Abashai had been critical.

If life was so rough, why didn't the Benshira and the Chaktawe just leave? Liriel had, dispersing northward to where there was land enough for all and indeed food to feed the masses. People were too attached to places, to things, to each other. Cities rose and fell, that had proven true during the Valterian, and even on a smaller scale as villages had arose after the emergence and failed during the harshness of time.

But she understood new rules now, and added them to the list slowly growing in her mind. Blood was blood... it was more important than anything else, even the availability of food or the comfort in which people lived. It was puzzling to her, and something she'd probably never understand herself, being kelvic. Just like Abashai would never understand her relationship with Zulrav. In fact, she longed for a breeze right now, one to toss her hair and distract her, offering her a friend for a moment or for a day, however long that particular personality decided to stick around. He saw her God as a god of death, but Nya knew Zulrav was something far more. Nya closed her eyes a moment, inhaled deeply, and then reached out to pick up the remainder of the food she'd set aside. Opening her eyes, she tossed the cob and kabobs into the fire across the room, no longer remotely hungry. There was a bitter taste on her tongue.

Liriel's voice distracted her out of her own thoughts. Nya nodded, offered her a smile, and made a soft noise of agreement. "Abashai is right. So are you. I come from no where important and have no people who accept me, so I do not understand about family and blood. If it is important though, you should be of them. I spoke wrong, because like he says, I do not know. Nor can I." She said, nodding. "But what you say sounds right. Sometimes humans are many people, all at once. It gets confusing." She said, then leaned back against the leg of the bed, folding her hands carefully in her lap and stretching out her long legs. She didn't look at the Benshira again, nor did she really look at Liriel. Instead she looked into the fire and watched the hungry flames consume the cob and there rest of kabobs.