Open what death doesn't touch.

[Caelum]

OOCOpen to all. "...as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn't touch." -- D. Tartt. Timestamp: 80 Winter 514 AV They were children of the horselords, and they flew through the rain storm sweeping Cyphrus without worry for the wet. Needle thin pillars of smoke were their first glimpse of an old home, stretching high into the curve of a darkened sky. Evening wasted on the prairie, sharp and redolent with all of the deep patience of winter. Spring was coming and would be a slave driver in Cyphrus, flushing color back into the half frozen roll of grasses and suffusing the air with warmth it had shuddered for in snow falls. The gold of Syna would take over the darker hues in Caelum’s hair, brightening all of him as the year came upon its new dawn. But it was winter still and in the drenched light of sunset, the ethaefal held his party back from their destination. Gold eyes turned west, endless and interminable as the turning of the world around his first goddess; and he waited. The change came in an expected flurry of light, as if day itself drew a jealous curtain over him to steal back its luminance. As it guttered and died, the Drykas emerged, wearing the face of a dead man beneath the rise of the yellow moon. Caelum’s clothes fit him less perfectly now, a little too large in the shoulder and long at the limbs. Although he was not small by night, there was never any comparing his two forms. He looked a Drykas in prime, dusky skinned and paler, with flecks of gold in deep set, dark eyes. Equally as dark hair was knotted back in a series of braids that tied off at the nape of his neck and he pulled the edges of his winter-weight cloak more firmly around the toddler sleeping against him. Lillian had not stirred at her father’s transformation, well accustomed to the spectacle. Shortly thereafter, they rode into Endrykas on the backs of striders, almost more comfortable there than on their own two feet. They used the complicated looking style of yvas as would any decent Drykas and with them, among packs of supplies and trade goods, was the telltale tent wrap of a traditional Drykas pavilion ready to be pitched. Roaming eyes had no need to be careful perfectly able to catch a glimpse of numerous windmarks hinting out of the hems of Caelum’s clothing. They marked him clearly, including the radiation of sun bars spiraling out from around his right eye. His windmarks were old, though, their style almost archaic; and more mysterious than that, there was evidence of perhaps too many of them for an unrecognized and relatively young man. Anyone so distinguished ought to have been known and, well, older. The Watch rose to meet them with these details in mind, perceiving the stranger elements of the arriving party in a silence that was more thoughtful than it was suspicious. The striders they rode were well groomed and cared for and that fact alone was enough to ease any initial concerns. Gunn, the black-washed Imperial Watcher who had accompanied them from Riverfall and the Sanctuary, wagged his tail amiably at the iron-haired warrior who urged her mare forward. “Sunsinger, isn’t it?” Shrewd eyes examined Caelum before moving to the rest of his party. A smile twisted her mouth and a hand lifted, signalling welcome. “Moraina.” The corners of Caelum’s eyes crinkled with a smile of recognition. His fingers formed the sign for regret. “It’s been too long.” The lady warrior released a bark of a laugh. “It has, and you still haven’t aged so much as an hour. Come along –“ She raised her voice to the pair of fellow Watchmen lingering near. “Let them pass!” Returning her regard to Caelum, an eyebrow rose expressively. “He’s far afield, I’m afraid, if you’ve come to see him.” Caelum hesitated, then shook his head with a rueful smile. “No. Not this time.” Moraina eyed him and swayed as one with her strider while gesturing to the north. “Can’t say I much blame you. That way. Unless you want to pitch camp with the Sapphire? No? Ha.” Another laugh. “Settle in away from the Emeralds then too, eh? You won’t want to deal with those Stoneshadows tonight, I gather. Closer to the Opal, but not so much they’ll accost you too soon for those sweet serpents you wear.” She paused, and tilted her head with the slide of a thick braid to peer into a fold of his cloak. “Ah, the little bird,” she breathed, humor in it. Caelum drew back the edge of his cloak to reveal Lillian’s tiny, sleeping face, eyelashes flickering now with a wrinkle of her nose. “One and the same.” “She’s grown. Came through the storm alright. Good, good.” Moraina nodded and sat back again, signalling her satisfaction and letting Caelum and his party pull ahead. “Come find me if you’re in mind to cause trouble again,” she called after him. “I don’t want to miss the show!” Caelum snorted and raised one hand in swift, sharp sign that left Moraina and her Watchmen chortling behind them like the wingbeat of ravens. Not too many chimes later, he located a clearing on the fringes of Endrykas and pulled to a halt to prepare camp in the moonlight.

[Khida]

Rain was perhaps Khida's least favorite of all the kinds of weather. Even storms with their driving winds were not so bad, because practically the only thing one could do was find shelter and let their rage blow past. Rain, though; rain was deceptively permissive of activity. For all that it was dreary and wet and cold, rain was not discouraging enough to justify them sitting in the dry tent while waiting for it to pass; bells still chimed and things still needed doing. Things like hunting, and eating, and caring for the horses, and all the other minutia of Dawnwhisper life. And in doing these things, one spent all day wet and cold and miserable.

Thankfully, the days and days of rain had at last come to an end.

Dusk, in this far improved weather, found Khida at Hunter's Allegiance, bow in her hands for the first time since the rains had arrived. Nearly two seasons into owning the weapon, it felt comfortable in her grip; her fingers knew where they should rest on the grip, her cheek knew the brush of a readied arrow's fletching, and her body did not protest the repetition of practice so much as it had in the beginning. But being comfortable with the thing, with bow and string and guard and glove and arrow, was still not the same as being skilled with it; the latest arrow she loosed attested to this distinction, as it cleaved smoothly through the air and lodged into the lower right of the target, one among a dozen of its fellows.

Khida glanced towards the westering sun, and deemed she could allow herself one more attempt. One more try to hit the center of the target, or at least its vicinity. She plucked an arrow from her quiver and set it on the bow, measuring her breathing and reflecting on her goal. A slow and steady draw, intent gaze focused down the shaft towards the dot that marked the target's centermost point; a pause to fix her aim in certainty, to run down a mental checklist of everything she needed to account for. Feet set, shoulders aligned, breath held. Arrow aimed. Wind negligible. She had everything right, to the best of her knowledge.

The last arrow flew. And landed right in the middle of all those sent before.

At least her shots were mostly precise. She just couldn't figure out why they were also persistently off. A study of her hands gave no insight into the matter, nor did a study of the bow, and in the end Khida could only stuff it back into its case with a frustrated huff. She collected the arrows and shed her protective gear, filing each away for travel, then turned her back to Hunter's Allegiance and her feet to the path home.

It was a long walk across Endrykas in dimming light and deepening shadows, as sun gave way to moon and the Pavilions of the Drykas settled themselves for the evening. Cold nipped more strongly at her skin with the loss of Syna's light, and the Kelvic drew her cloak closer about herself. Feathers would keep her warmer -- but she could not shift without leaving all her gear behind. So she plodded on afoot, working her way outwards one step at a time, to where the pavilions lay thin on the ground and the grasses stretched on towards a horizon now shrouded by night. The hunter always camped on the city's edge, that ambivalent zone which was at once both part of and apart from Endrykas society.

Given that, the last thing she expected was for their camp to suddenly acquire neighbors. Yet neighbors they now had, for values of 'neighbor' particular to a city of nomadic herders; Khida was still some chimes' walk from home when the unfamiliar horses and their unfamiliar riders ambled into her awareness. One seemed to set himself out in front, perhaps the leader of what she assumed to be a Pavilion -- a man with dark hair and pale skin and something tucked inside the shelter of his embrace. They came to a halt a short distance away and set about making themselves comfortable in a previously empty place.

She paused, too, giving the horses and riders -- and the dog, once she picked out its motion in the gloom -- an unabashedly intent scrutiny. She would watch for a little while, Khida decided, and take some measure of these strangers before continuing on. If only because they happened to set camp near her space, and in so doing become something of her concern.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Colt]

Rain and wind were not rare visitors to the Sea of Grass, and were well known by the nomadic Horselords that lived upon it––the world was familiar in its dampness, and especially in the clear, cold scent of soaked earth and plant matter that wafted upwards and into the breeze and spread across the expanse of Endrykas. It lingered on every blade of grass and clung to the back of every beast and bird that walked or flew through the plains as they settled themselves down at the conclusion of another day.

Shahar’s movements took on a sense of urgency as the sun made contact with the western skyline, for he knew that there was little point in looking for food once there was no longer light to look by; his hands moved just a bit quicker as they dug through the stand of rattling cattails, pulling up those that bore the telltale spikes of early corns. He took care to spread out his take, leaving plenty for the oncoming year; to do otherwise would be foolish.

He’d had to range somewhat far from his camp to locate the flat stream that supported the plants, although not so far as to risk danger from predators; Endrykas’ sheer force of presence affected the plains around it to a great extent, and Shahar was still within its limits. As long as he finished quickly and returned home, there would be no need to worry.

He had managed to procure roughly ten bushels of cattail roots before he’d the mind to cease; the sun had descended rapidly and the world was quickly growing dark, but it wasn’t the oncoming night that had given him pause––it was instead the subtle, half-conscious sense of approaching, cradled in finality and homecoming. Without the need or desire for further contemplation, Shahar gathered up his prizes and angled to the midpoint between home and her, and it was because of his direction as he left the cattail stand that he managed to catch sight of the sudden and unexpected presence of others.

While visitors and transient Drykas pavilions were not strange sights in the City of Tents, such families would usually take up residence near relatives, well within their Clan districts. The outskirts where the Dawnwhisper camp lay was much less visited, as the space was neither included in nor separate from the city itself. It was the place for those that had no place, and it was not a space they often found themselves sharing.

Somewhat bemused by this new presence, Shahar changed course and instead came to cut a wide circle around the new group and their campsite, unconsciously keeping to the least conspicuous path he could find. They were closer to his camp than he was accustomed to, and so he couldn’t help a twinge of wariness despite the obvious presence of both Striders and Windmarks. Strangers were strangers, no matter their race, and they were near enough to home to make him uncomfortable.

[Aoren]

Travel was becoming as close a companion as any to Aoren. He had spent the greater majority of his time on the move over the past year. It had become rather easy for him to pack up his things at a moment’s notice and set out on the road or sea. Such was the life of a man who made no roots. Sitting astride a trained steed he contemplated the road ahead. When he had learned that Caelum was planning a visit to Endrykas the young Seer had practically stumbled over himself asking for the chance to accompany the Ethaefal. The Sea of Grass. Endrykas. The homeland of his father’s people. While at first Aoren had been filled with excitement as they waded through the landscape he became more and more uneasy.

The homeland of his father’s people.

That was what it was. Aoren did not know Cyphrus. He did not know the dangers of the Sea of Grass. He did not know the Drykas. Such had only become clearer since his arrival at Riverfall. He didn’t know his people and in not knowing them could he truly claim to be one of them? The answer was simple enough but it was one he didn’t want to embrace. When it had come time to set out on the road away from Riverfall, Aoren had almost changed his mind. The thought of Caelum and Lillian alone however had been so unnerving that he simply couldn’t let them go without him. Aoren wasn’t the greatest of warriors but being with them at least he could actively work to keep them safe.

Still, Aoren was filled trepidation. He couldn’t truly explain why either. He should have been overjoyed at the chance to find his home. He should have been elated at potentially reuniting with his family. When his eyes came to rest upon Caelum however his need to find people he barely knew became lessened. Had he not already found his family? He shook his head banishing his troubled thoughts. Who would they encounter in Endrykas? To be entirely truthful he didn’t know why Caelum wanted to visit the migrant city. He hadn’t really bothered to ask. All he’d been certain of was that neither Caelum nor Lillian were going by themselves. As his thoughts turned to the city itself he wondered if he would encounter the Drykas raiders whose lives he had saved over a year ago. Would they be in the city? Would they even recognize him? Would he recognize them? Aoren carried with him the very bow that was gifted to him that day. He wasn’t skilled in its use. Not in the least. If nothing else though he might learn how to wield it properly while he accompanied Caelum on his visit.

When they were stopped by what appeared to be a part of Drykas warriors, Aoren stiffened. His mind briefly raced back to the single most recent experience he’d had with Drykas. He had to remind himself that they were in no danger of such an encounter. At least not yet. He listened to the conversation pass between Caelum and the female without comment. He couldn’t make out the whole of the conversation but he understood the gist of it. If he could be grateful for anything, Aoren at least knew enough Pavi to carry on a conversation. His eyes narrowed as Caelum revealed the sleeping Lillian. Aoren had become quite fond of the little girl. Knowing the life she’d come from he couldn’t help but feel a little protective when it came to the young Konti and the Drykas.

Upon being granted leave to pass, Aoren accompanied Caelum into the clearing he’d chosen to set up camp. Dismounting he gave the horse a fond pat on the flank. He still had much to learn in the way of caring for horses. He looked forward to it and trusted that with both Caelum and Kavala he had excellent teachers. As he situated himself, he began examining the horse. After such a trek he wanted to make sure his present and hopefully future riding companion was still in good health. As he worked he spoke over his shoulder to Caelum.

“I am uneasy.” The words came out in Pavi. As they were in the land of his ancestors, Aoren felt it only right to converse in the proper tongue. Part of him suspected that Caelum already knew what he was feeling. The Ethaefal seemed completely in-tune with the Seer's mood. All the same, Aoren gave words to what he was feeling if only to invite the chance to practice his speech in what should have been his native tongue.

[Caelum]

A sharp look was delivered the seer when he spoke, and Caelum's expressive mouth flattened. He still sat his horse, not having yet dismounted because he was going about the slow, careful process of waking Lillian. It was never good to wake in the cold and dark and beneath a strange sky. She had nightmares still, and though as a dreamwalker Caelum took that as a personal affront, the healer in him understood it was also a way in which her brain was working out some of the harder emotions of her so-far short but difficult journey in life. The process of waking her up was particularly hard because, quite simply, she didn't want to. It was warm and safe and cozy surounded by the scent of horse and wind and tucked safe in her father's arms. Caelum sighed and smoothed a hand, absurdly gentle, back against Lillian's pale braids. He flipped back the edge of his cloak to let some of the cool air on her face and ducked his chin to drop a kiss to her brow. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," he muttered at her. A soft, stifled giggle was the clear response. The ethaefal smirked. It was a fond expression and he gave the toddler a playful jostle before twisting around on the dark mare's back. Handless, his arms thoroughly occupied with Lillian, he dropped straight to the ground in a backwards dismount. It had the fluidity of expertise. Tigen, the horse, snorted. "You think it's from within or without?" He asked Aoren in the same language, the Pavi easy on his tongue. But like any mortal language, it still didn't seem to fit right in his mouth. He did not intend to dismiss Aoren's unease. Not in the least. Even if Caelum himself was not paranoid by nature, far too much in his life having proven the paranoia right, he would have trusted in Aoren's gut as both a seer and a steady-handed man. He was not the sort to see shadows in the sun. "Close or far?" Ducking into a corbie's crouch, Caelum set the sleepy-faced toddler on her feet and gave her arms a brusque rub. It seemed to provoke more giggles from her and he tugged up the hood of her own fur-lined cloak with a wink before unraveling back to his feet. He unhooked a water skin from a yvas hook and handed it down Lillian with a nod toward the Imperial Watcher sniffing his way through the grass. "Go see if he's thirsty, love." Flickers of torchlight appeared to glean in his eyes as they landed on the woman watching nearby. His head tilted a little and after a beat he lifted a hand in simple greeting.

[Khida]

Another man with his horse, but dismounted, stood near the first, that putative Ankal. Something seemed to pass between him and the rider, perhaps words spoken too soft to carry; but the rider only turned his attention to the burden he bore. A child, that proved to be, as he dismounted and released it to its own two feet; whether boy or girl, Khida could not discern, and truthfully, did not really care. They continued to act and interact, tending to horses and dog, the rhythms of speech and child's high-pitched giggles not so much different from those of any other Drykas Pavilion setting camp.

Elsewhere, a presence impinged upon her awareness like a torch moving in the night; he drew nearer... or perhaps did not. He felt of caution that echoed her own, and a focus not unlike what they shared in the first stages of a hunt -- that period of searching, seeking, and remaining concealed from the eyes of potential quarry. The Kelvic let her attention dwell on the hunter for a moment, acknowledgment and welcome of his presence. It was always better for them to be together.

Motion diverted her focus then, a motion with intent directed towards her -- a gesture dappled by torchlight, a raised hand which was not Sign as Khida understood it. Her response was, greeting made reflexive and nearly fluid by frequent use, moderated by the reserve of her posture. In its wake, she hesitated a beat, caught on the cusp of decision; deciding, the Kelvic woman stepped forward, emerging from gathering shadow into the flickering torchlight. Bow case and quiver remained strapped in place, her hands empty, her approach cautious rather than bold; she did not come close to the strangers.

There, Khida hesitated again, for while she had consented to engage with the strangers, she wasn't entirely sure what to do now that it had happened. Strangers were his province, really; he met them, brought them home, sometimes had them come looking for him. The Kelvic's fingers sketched an echo of confusion, her standby for moments of bewilderment or uncertainty. Another beat passed before the second half of her decision finally solidified. Words followed. Different is, came out in sign. "Not many outside. You, here, why?" Speaking, Khida's accent betrayed her origins as a native speaker of Common -- and belied that she wasn't as fluent in Pavi as her ready use of Sign might imply.

Common | Pavi | someone else

[Colt]

There was a brief movement across the bond––acknowledgement, welcome––but then attention was diverted.

Having carved a more distant path than Khida, Shahar was not able to see what was happening in the camp beyond snatches he could see through the grass. He circled slowly, cautiously, for while both he and his bondmate shared caution in regards to the situation, there was yet to be any real danger. He made his way slowly and carefully to where he could at least see Khida, although he took equal care to remain hidden from the eyes of their new neighbors. Their ears, however, was something Shahar could not control so well––whether or not they heard him, he could only guess.

When he lay eyes on his bondmate, she was in the midst of a wary greeting, followed by the question that they were both wondering––why was this new pavilion here, on the outskirts, instead of within the thick of a Clan? It was not an often-used area, save for their own Clanless family group.

He was distracted before any reply was made by the rustling of grass, far too close for comfort. Turning quickly, Shahar spotted something moving through the brush towards him, shorter than a man, taller than a cat… a dog? A massive dog, nose down and following a scent. Was it following his scent? Baring his teeth half-consciously, Shahar stepped back and away as quietly as he was able; it was one of their campmates, which made it just as suspicious as the rest of them.

[Aoren]

Watching Caelum tend to Lillian brought a soft smile to Aoren’s face. It helped to soothe some of the uneasiness that he felt. The little Konti was eventually roused from her sleep and nudged into tending to the Imperial Watcher not far away. Aoren’s thoughts turned to Isikai, the large mixed breed dog that was never far from him. The canine had meandered off into the grass as soon as they’d come to a stop. Aoren trusted that the black dog wouldn’t go far but in a strange new place he didn’t want his companion gone too long. At Caelum’s question, Aoren shook his head.

“Within.” Aoren wouldn’t go casting shadows where they weren’t. He had certainly felt watched not but moments before the silent guards emerged from the Sea of Grass but he attributed it to their duties. Of course Endrykas had protectors of its own. No, Aoren’s uneasiness stemmed from his own personal misgivings about coming to the migrant city in the first place. He’d learned a few bits and pieces about his family through the experiences of others and it was what he didn’t know that gave him pause.

Because there was so much that he didn’t know.

He had yet to go into great detail about his feelings toward finding the other Skycrowns with Caelum. It was not an easy subject to bring up. He knew that part of the Ethaefal must have sensed it. He opened his mouth to speak further but then came the sound of steps nearby. Aoren followed Caelum’s gaze to find a young woman standing not far from where they’d chosen to set up camp. His face remained blank but his eyes darted over to Lillian. Moving slowly so as not to raise alarm, Aoren walked up just behind the little girl placing a hand on her head. He ruffled her hair to which he received a playful swat and a half-grumpy frown that turned into a smile. Lillian moved closer to Aoren and he brought the edge of his cloak out to shield her against the cold. The Konti cast him a sleepy smile before busying herself with petting the dog that lapped at the water she poured from the skin in her small hands.

Cobalt blue eyes turned to regard the young woman. Aoren had only a few real experiences to draw upon with his people. Those experiences were most recently laced with stories of them snatching up people and taking them from their homes. He’d almost suffered one such experience himself. With that in mind he wasn’t taking any chances. Aoren did his best to read her body language in the dim light. He got the impression that she was curious but cautious. She made several signs with her hands that he didn’t quite understand. He felt as though he should have understood her though. The expectation was obviously there then came her words and in them a question. Aoren looked to Caelum for the response.

[Caelum]

Caelum watched the woman emerge from the darkness, a faceless shadow taking on feature and form in the light of their torches and the still swelling moon. He felt Aoren’s suddenly insistent need to protect stab through his stomach and knew without looking that the rustle of grass and stir of presence was the seer drawing closer to Lillian. If Caelum was not careful, Aoren’s unease was going to become his own. These deduction were swift and automatic, the result of long years spent sinking and swimming through the tumultuous waters of the goddess Nikali’s admiration. Between two beats of the heart he snapped his mind into pieces, sharp and clean, to split his attentions. At the front was his focus on the slight, dark haired woman attempting to communicate with him so cautiously, but behind it was a wide, spreading awareness of everything that made up their surroundings from the current of desires drifting off of people to the night wind muttering through the tall grass. One hand rose to hook a finger into the clasp of his cloak, undoing it so that he could tug the heavy garment free from his shoulders and bundle it up in his arms. It left him in long sleeves and a faded sweater whose hood was down. The woman was cast an easy smile, unexpectedly reassuring. “We’re out here because we’re visitors, not residents,” he answered her in Common, having noticed the lilt of her accent and the halts of her Pavi. As he stuffed his cloak into a yvas bag still hooked to Tegan, he underscored his Common with specific selections of Grasslands Signs so as to further their communication. He inclined his head toward where Aoren stood and then hefted the yvas bags from Tegan’s rump, shouldering them up with a perhaps surprising strength. He didn’t have the bulk of some. Carrying them toward the place where he had already mentally drawn a map of their little camp, he dropped the bags and returned to their third strider, brought along as a back-up mount and pack horse. There he began to unstrap the pavilion tent wrap. He was purposefully going about the business to setting up camp rather than stand on guard, aware that Aoren had his back and not wishing to give the impression that they had any reason to be wary of a girl in the night. “We’re both from the Drykas people, in our ways. I’m Caelum, and that’s Aoren. The little one’s Lillian.” A second, quick smile was offered. “Give me a few to set up here and put things right and we’ll be having dinner. Plenty to share if you and –“ He threw a glance out into the shadows, towards the startled growl of one of their dogs and the ghost of a new stranger’s need like a scent on the wind. “Your friend care to join us.” He whistled for the hound.

[Khida]

As she spoke with the windmarked one, the other man moved to companion the child, what Khida took to be an act of caution. One of which she approved, if such it were. He also watched her, but left the talking to the group's evident leader. That one smiled, easy and amiable and confident, a smile which did much to settle her hesitance. He then answered her Pavi with strikingly fluid Common, speaking the language like he had been born into it -- something Khida could not claim for any other Drykas she had met.

"Visitors?" she echoed, finding in that sentiment a similar dissonance. As he continued to tend to his people's camp, Khida considered his response. She knew that the pavilions came and went at will, some remaining apart from Endrykas except for events such as the mid-winter races, but even they still seemed to seek the city proper. Too, every Drykas she had ever met seemed to self-identify as one of the city, one of its people, no matter their travels.

But apparently not these.

He elaborated only a little, but even Khida recognized from to be a significant word in this context. It seemed to explain much. He also provided names for his people... and an invitation for both herself and the hunter. Surprise shaded the Kelvic's posture... but then, she too could hear the growl in the night, sound accompanied by a spike in her bondmate's caution. Khida looked into the darkness beyond the fringe of torchlight, all but blind to the night yet knowing where the hunter stood. Yes, she gestured unthinkingly, still turned outwards; she wanted to know more about these people who were now their neighbors, and he should, too. "We will stay."

Turning back towards the men and the child, Khida nodded towards the far side of the camp. Towards their own space. "We are camped there," she supplied, an implicit explanation for why she and the hunter had disrupted the new arrivals. That question, she expected him to want an answer to; she would. What didn't occur to her was to provide their names in return.

Common | Pavi | someone else