Summer 60th, 514 AV
Darkness filled the air, only the dim light of the moon creating shimmering accents on edges. Unless one looked at the perfect angle, it was hard to tell if something was there or not. Darkness also created a kind of… atmosphere for itself. Quiet, sometimes calm, though everything to be heard and smelt and touched was pinpoint clear, with the lack of sight. A cricket to be heard in the distance, a twitter from a bird or monkey, the sharp constant smell that always seemed to fill the jungle. They were all painfully obvious, replacing the usual observations one made with their eyes.
Oryani, however, had another sense. It was native to her race, though not quite as exact as anything else. She could feel things, movements, in her nearby radius. A lot of the time it went ignored, a constant buzz that she generally drained out. It was part of the reason she hated places with lots of fast moving people, crowds. When she wanted quiet, no strain on her senses, she went to be alone, somewhere where there was no one, nothing, nearby.
She was doing that now, laying on her back and staring up at a small patch of sky that was visible between the canopy. It was strange in Taloba, almost never able to see the sky without being in a specifically open area. Most places had something covering it, hiding it from view. In the Sea of Grass, her home… the only time the sky was covered was when you were inside, in a tent to hide from the elements. Wind and rain came with the sky, with the stars and sun and moon. A protection from the sky also meant a protection from those… which could be both good and bad.
She liked all the things that resided in the sky, each represented by its own deity. Syna, for the sun, Leth, for the moon. Sadly, and almost in a humiliating way, she couldn’t remember the goddess of the stars. But there was one. She knew it. What she didn’t like… was the rain. Such constant rain, dripping onto her hair and face and giving her a headache from the motion. Though her extra sense could be invaluable in some situations, saving her from things stalking nearby, finding water, among other things… it had its downsides as well. Too much could give her headaches, migranes, and for some reason sometimes she simply couldn’t drown it out. Like rain.
She lay there, contemplating life, watching the twinkling lights above her head in the pure black backdrop of night, doing… nothing. That was, until someone walked into her cozy place. She’d hidden behind the Den of Exiles, nearly a hundred feet behind the furthest building, where she was sure she wouldn’t be interrupted. She’d discovered a comfortable bed of moss and leaves, a place where she could see the stars and nothing else. It had only been ten or so days ago, but she’d started frequenting it, going every night or every other night just to… relax. Pretend she was lying on far away soil, surrounded by tall grasses rather than trees, and imaging that Khal was right around the corner.
There was only one other person who knew this spot, one who’d been around a lot more, and had been growing steadily closer to the Chatakwe. Poma. They didn’t talk too much, the occasional words, but things like pasts and histories went unsaid. Oryani had no qualms about her own, but she knew the Myrian was particularly strict with her own… so never liked to pry. On top of that was a dense language barrier, both challenged in the Common language, and often it was too much effort to try and hold a full conversation. Still, the friendship had happened, mostly based off of Poma’s insistence on teaching the Drykas the ways of the jungle, and the ways of Taloba.
Knowing who was nearby, Oryani didn’t move, though her eyes flicked to the side for a moment in a vague attempt to actually see something. That, of course, was not going to happen, as there was no light to see by. Instead she stayed relaxed, still, until the vague outline of a face appeared above her own. ”Hello,” she said, in a quiet, amused tone. She still didn’t bother to move, feeling incredibly comfortable with no true motive to change her position.
To her surprise, Poma said a word in Myrian, that brought a frown to the Chatakwe’s features. ”Hello,” was the odd response, before the word in Myrian was repeated again. Oryani’s frown deepened, brow furrowing and eyes closing slightly. Was Poma teaching her Myrian? In a vague attempt, she repeated the word, her pronunciation surprisingly accurate. It was a simple word, though. The Myrian nodded and grinned, saying the word herself, before offering a hand to help the Drykas up. She took it, and found herself standing in a heartbeat, a little bit dazed. She always forgot how strong the woman was. How strong all Myrians were.
”Thank you,” she said friendlily, and was answered with another Myrian word. She frowned, before coming up with the possibility that it was ‘thank you’ in Myrian. So, in a vague attempt to learn the language, she repeated it. ”Thank you. Hello?” This was all in the few new words she’d learned, and earned a nod from her tutor. Hello and thank you. She now knew the most basic and polite words in any language, parroting this large warrior. ”Hello, thank you, hello, thank you,” she muttered to herself, tossing the words back and forth and getting used to the feeling on her tongue. In all technicality, she already knew some Myrian words… but those were ones she had no other name for in Common. Things like ‘monkey’, ‘ashta’, and ‘lychee’. Two animals and a kind of drink.
There were no other words said, except one, coming from Poma’s mouth. ”Come,” was the quiet request, before the Myrian set off deeper into the jungle, blackness enveloping her body in ticks.
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