So We Meet Again

[Mayra]

15th of Summer, 515AV
4th Bell, Evening
The Ruby District

Second in size only to the Mountain Ixam, the Plains Ixam are threatened only by creatures large or fast enough to challenge them; Glassbeaks being among the more common predators.

Mayra squinted at the words for a second, before bringing her nose out of the book on her lap to glance around. What were glassbeaks?Obviously they were a predator far larger than the massive reptiles she had encountered, but that was the only clue she got from the book. Placing the mouthpiece of her pipe between her lips, Mayra took a deeper drag, enjoying the sweet taste of tobacco. She let her eyes wander the busy district before her, taking a break from her tireless reading. She had found that, during her time in Endrykas, there were definitely districts among the tents. Grouping of the different colored tents was hard to miss when you walked through the city, although near the edges they tended to blend together. Each color represented something, although what it was, Mayra hadn't yet figured that out yet. Taking the moment to puff the last tendrils of flavor from her expiring pipe, Mayra watched the people around her. Directly in front of her there was a tent with two woman and a young boy in it. They seemed to be elbow deep in a thick muddy clay. Unlike the grey and dull clay of Kalea, this clay was a fresh copper brown from the Cyphrus soil, and the people in the open-air tent were artists, clearly.

Occasionally the oldest woman would take a wire and chop of a block of the clay, then it would only be a few chimes before a thick mug or bowl or plate had been formed from her expert fingers. She added it to a stack, and Mayra saw that she was making a dining set with the clay. The slightly younger woman beside her was carving more intricate designs on the side and the small boy was adjusting all the completed pieces on a wire grill that looked as if it should be over a fire, not resting on a table. Mayra assumed it must be moved to one once it is filled with clay statues, for hardening.

So they were potters. The red district had potters in it.

Don't get distracted, Mayra. The halfblood scolded herself, and turned her head down from the people watching. She sat cross legged on the top of a pile of wood. The quarter-logs had been cross-stacked to form a solid two meter tower, the top of which was wrapped in canvas, on which Mayra sat. She was elevated above the small square of tents this way, and so far no one seemed to mind her perched there. Just a girl, smoking and reading, nothing too noteworthy. But then again, Mayra quite enjoyed how easily she was ignored in this place. She was a foreigner and while it made it hard for her to function within this odd society, harder to understand it and be apart of it, it also made it easy to simply float on the metaphorical outskirts, as she had grown used to doing. the physical outskirts of the city had proven far too dangerous for the half-Chaktawe to want to brave again.

Plains Ixam travel the grasslands of Cyphrus, grazing on grass and leaves from low-hanging tree branches. They will stop for the females to lay eggs in--

And then the stack of wood on which Mayra perched was wobbling. In an instant, Mayra's book slammed shut and she was alert. Her own stance on the pile was carefully placed, since the wood was not really meant to be climbed. Mayra was not a terribly large person, thanks to her zith side, so it wasn't too hard of a feat for herself. But if anyone else was attempting to climb the stack as well, it would surely go down. The woodpile shook again, and Mayra risked the move to uncross her legs. She crawled to the side of the stack, shifting her pipe between hands so that she wouldn't drop it, where there was the most movement to peer over the side of her small tower.

"Oh, hello there little one." She grinned down at the golden mass of locks that had already half-way scaled the wood. At the ring of her voice, the small boy looked up and grinned at her as if this was a game. She merely smiled back, keeping her lips closed. The shocking green eyes looked familiar, but the half-breed couldn't put a name to them. He didn't respond to her, instead the toddler merely waved one hand about for an instant, a sudden glare of distress filling is features, as if she was ignoring him. He said a single unrecognizable word and then his hand danced about a little more. It took Mayra a few ticks to realize he was speaking to her in the odd way of the horse-people. "Oh, yeah. Hold on." She turned to place her book and pipe down, carefully placing her pipe between the two ridges of logs of wood so it would stay straight up. She was nearly done with it anyway, the flame had burnt out chimes ago, but any excess smoke could be worrisome.

Once she had secured her items from falling off the stack, Mayra flattened herself to her belly, and reached off the edge to offer her hand to the small child below her. She felt his tiny hands grasp hers and she glanced down to see him doing more hand-language to her and she braced herself to tug the reckless child up. He helped, walking up the stack of wood with his feet and scrambling to the top when he reached it, and he wasn't a very large toddler, he couldn't be more than four years old at most. It was not very far of a climb, but the child was tiny and Mayra not much larger herself, so together it was a small challenge. Once the child had steadied himself on the precarious stack of logs he giggled, which caused Mayra to giggle as well. He motioned something and said a strange word and Mayra could only shrug helplessly, unsure of how to tell such a small child that she couldn't understand him.

But in the midst of the toddlers animated fingers, she watched him bring his right hand to his forehead, a hooked finger to his brow. It was a familiar greeting, and suddenly she understood why the toddler looked so familiar. What was her luck to mead one of his pavilion?

"Dravite? Do you know Dravite?" She spoke the name to the boy, who had picked up her book now and was carelessly flipping through the pages. The two must be related somehow, since she remembered the horseman telling her that greetings were specific to each pavilion. He giggled again, as if her inability to understand him was amusing and nodded to her at recognition of the name. A grin spread across her lips for a second before she watched the child's green eyes go wide in fear. Quickly, the small golden haired toddler started laughing again and pointed to her teeth, finding yet another thing about her that was amusing to him. He rubbed his small fingers across his own pearly whites, where they had mostly all grown in for the first time, as if to point out that his were different. Mayra nodded, trying to be enthusiastic to keep up with the toddler's energy, still a little confused on how to interact with the toddler or whether he understood her at all. If she had known more about the strange hand-language she might have said he was babbling at her, judging from the snippets of foreign words that he giggled out every few ticks to accompany his hand-dance, but she wasn't quite sure.

She was trying to pretend to be attentive to the boy as she peeled her precious book from his grabby hands. It took a few tries of pointing to herself and saying her name, then pointing to him and saying nothing, for the boy to understand and reveal his name, Kyanite. After this, and after realizing she didn't understand him the child was content with treating her like an animal. He would touch her hair questioningly, probably wondering why it was a mane of frizz instead of neatly braided down like the rest of the horse-people. He waved at her eyes and at one point the child actually took her hand to examine her sharp nails, seemingly unaware of the predatory resemblance. At one point he tried to grab her now-cold pipe, but Mayra had taken it before he could grab it.

It had merely been a few chimes with Mayra trying desperately to tame the energetic toddler and just generally not really sure what to do with his sudden intrusion, when he exclaimed another unrecognizable pair of words. "Ruh Roh! Ruh Roh!" He repeated it twice, as if to catch someone's attention, dropping her book, which she caught and scrambled over to the other side of the wood pile, shaking the stack as he hobbled over. "Ruh Roh!"

"Oh! Oh-ok!" He stood at the edge of the pile and threw his hands up in a show of championship. Mayra found herself behind the child in an instant, delicate hands hovering behind his abdomen, prepared to catch him if he tumbled forward. "Step back now, littl'un, you're going to fall. C'mere." She tried to steal the toddler's attention again but he was more focused on someone weaving through the tents than the strange woman behind him, his hands waving wildly and random excited words breaking through the confident giggles. Children were mad.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

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His breath breasted the air like a silver phantom, hanging in front of him for a moment before spiralling skyward to join the clouds. Another cool morning that was sure to roll into a beautiful summer's day. Belkaia sat up on the bedroll and watched Dravite from inside the tent, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "My love, it is early, Leth's light still lingers, won't you come back to bed?"
Dravite smiled from where he stood outside the tent and let another ghostly exhale escaped him before he spoke. "I must go hunting while darkness is still on my side and the plain is quiet."

From within the tent he heard his lover sigh and ducked low to look at her through the doorway. "We need the meat and the money."
Belkaia got to her feet and out tip-toed from inside the tent, careful not to wake their sleeping son. "Are you taking Cree?"
"Yes," the man confessed.
"Ride swiftly, my love."

The two kissed and the horse lord departed.

Cree was excited to leave Endrykas, he had not had a good leg stretch in a few weeks and though Dravite knew it was important to keep his Strider fit, his current injury had prevented him from doing anything too strenuous. He allowed the animal to canter away from the border and out onto the plain where the grass was thick and difficult to manoeuvre, from here they would be able to hunt in peace, away from the smoke and crackling fire pits of Endrykas, the noise and busy marketplace that tended to rise really and settle late.

Once they had put a good distance between themselves and the city, Dravite gave the signal for Cree to stop and the Strider halted slowly, putting his head down to tear away the grass around his feet as Dravite slipped from his back and stepped forward into the green sea. He stood with his eyes closed, extending his mental reach to the strands of the Drykas web, seeking valuable information that might guide him to a starting point for the hunt. The webbing brought him many scenes that had unfolded during the night, a small pack of coyotes criss-crossing the grasslands, a drift of wild boar that had turned up the earth a mile west of his position, and a herd of mares passing through with foals at foot.

When he listened to the web he heard the call of the night-birds, the rumble of an offshore storm, and felt the vibrations of a rattler’s tail carried through the fluorescent strands of the webbing. He would have to search further through the web to find what he sought, but that brought its own dangers; those he could not risk while leaving his physical boded unattended for such a long period of time.

He felt the subtle change in wind direction as he opened his eyes, causing the fine hairs on the nape of his neck to stand at attention. Dravite tipped his head back and breathed in the scents on the air, catching the smell of sawdust and burning oils; the scents of Endrykas carried far from home. Mounting his Strider once more, they set off together, moving deeper into the grasslands. The howl of a lone wolf hung in the air, raised skyward on Zulrav's shoulders as if to call to the fading light of the Moon God; Syna's light creeping across the horizon to awaken the sleepy earth.

Dravite looked to the ripples of golden light on the east and steered his horse southwest of the city in search of a landmark that would point him home once he was done with the hunt. A tall narrow tree, striped and bare of its branches stood stark against the fading night's sky.

"Where art the moon at ebbing tide, beyond his lover sings. Companionless among the stars, she's longing for her king," he sang of the Moon God, Leth and his lover, Syna.
"Each night she reaches out to him, at dawn they bid farewell. Until the even they meet again, over the glassy swell."

Cree gave a rumble of disapproval and shook his head as if to advertise his dislike for the man's singing. "Oh, come on, I'm not that bad!" Dravite protested and brought his Strider to a sudden stop as he noticed the tops of pointed antlers in the distance.

A young buck, fat from a season of grazing the rich spring grass was testing his luck against an old boy, the two eyeing each other up from a distance, the bigger of the two a seasoned fighter with the scars to prove it. His left antler was broken and his hide was marred with scars where the fur had been unable to grow back. Dravite sat silently watching the old buck round up his wives only to stare down his young rival again. The two looked at each other for a spell before the younger buck decided to edge forward, trotting up to the herd to try and separate the females from their mate.

The old boy rose up on his hind quarters and lunged at his young rival, driving his antlers into the younger buck's strong left thigh. He turned sharply and stabbed the older buck; the pair backing away from each other for slowly before changing head on to clash at an alarming speed, which Dravite was sure would knock one, if not both of them out for the count. The two animals staggered and lowered their heads, joined where their antlers had become entangled with one another. They tried to pull apart, twisting and turning each other against the ground or surrounding shrubs until the older deer had grown tired and was forced to lay down.

Dravite knew an opportunity when he saw one and gave Cree a curt little kick in the side that saw the Strider shoot forward like a newly released arrow, hanging in the air for a moment before his hooves finally meet the ground and they were off, speeding towards the unsuspecting deer. As they drew closer, Dravite raised his spear, readying to strike when a flash of colour caught his gaze ahead of the horse and without time to stop, Cree collided with the quick moving blur, sending his rider overhead as he cried out and went to ground. .
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[Dravite]

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When Dravite finally opened his eyes the sun was high in the sky and his lips felt dry and cracked with sunburn. He lay still for a chime or two, assessing whether or not he had taken any damage during the fall that had clearly knocked him out. He wiggled his toes first; glad that he could still feel them, then his fingers before finally bending his knees, which seemed to have also caught a bit of sun. His side didn't feel any worse for wear, protected by the tight fitting leather tabard he wore. When he touched his fingers to his head he felt a fresh, open wound that had already dried and started to scab over. The tips of his fingers traced the short cut on the left side of his temple above the brow, but came back clean, though he felt the flaking blood all through his hair and over the left side of his face.

The young horse lord licked his lips and turned his head carefully to see if Cree had remained close by. He saw the buckskin stallion standing a few metres from his feet and closed his eyes; his body flooded with relief, the Strider looked all right and hadn't bolted after throwing Dravite from his back as the man had initially feared. When Dravite finally sat up he felt a little dizzy, but managed to get to his feet before having to sit down again to get his bearings. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the web to find his way home, too frazzled to play with shadows and tricks of the sun in order to navigate back to Endrykas. Through the Drykas webbing he was able to locate the city of tents and pointed his stare home upon awakening.

Cree drifted over to his side and Dravite took hold of the animal's long, dark mane, allowing the horse to help him to his feet. It was then he noticed blood on the Striders shoulder but upon closer inspection was unable to find any wound the blood might have spring from. He looked the horse over from top to tail, and still not finding anything, searched their surroundings slowly. The man recalled his mount colliding with a blur of colour before he had been thrown from his seat. He searched the horizon with a glance before walking about the patch of ground they had covered during the fall, collecting his spear on the way.

Before long he came across some flattened grass where it looked like Cree had rolled. There was blood on the ground and a faint set of tracks dotted about the place, though Dravite couldn't rightly decide what animal they belonged to. He followed the trail, finding more blood just as he thought he had lost sight of the tracks. There was blood in the tall grass and as Dravite moved the grass aside to step forward he heard a rustling sound and a large Doe sprung up from within the grass, jumping by him out into the clearing before going to ground again. The man backed off with a start and watched as the animal kicked her legs against the ground in an attempt to get up again, her front, right leg badly broken in two places, causing her to falter and lay flat against the earth.

"She must be in a lot of pain," Dravite told himself and lowered his gaze slowly; for all the anger and disdain he held for Caiyha for taking his mother's life (as he saw it), he couldn't stand watching one of her more gentle creatures in such a state.

Dravite raised his spear and threw all his weight into the stabbing motion that saw the point is his spear buried deep within the animal’s chest. She took a rasping gasp and kicked her legs again, not quite dead but animated painfully. Quickly the man drew his dagger and lifted the Doe's head, slitting her throat with the steel blade; a merciful killing.

He sat with the dead deer for chime, looking at her large, lifeless eyes and couldn't help but think of Lazuli and the way he had found her in the grass, lifeless and limp, already growing cold with her eyes closed gently as if she were asleep. The man felt a tear roll down over his cheek, followed by a second, and third before he brushed them away angrily, hating that he hadn't been there for his mother's last moments. "Curse you, Caiyha... Why do you mock me?"

Just then there came a sound from within the tall grass and Dravite turned, ready to defend his kill. He got to his feet, and backed away from the lifeless deer, not willing to come between a large predator and its meal. His muscles tightened, fingers closed firmly around the shaft of his spear and just as he readied himself to attack, a little fawn with a red back, speckled with white dots stepped out of the tall grass and stalked towards its mother. It stooped to lick her cheek and watch to see her stir, unable to comprehend that the life had long left the Doe.

Dravite pressed his hand over his heart and gripped the leather of his tabard tightly, as if the goodness herself had reached out and stung him there. He closed his eyes to clear his mind and slowly got to his feet, taking the back legs of the deer in hand to drag her to his horse. She was heavy, but Cree had carried more in his time. Getting the Doe onto the Strider's back took all of the man's strength, and when he finally managed to lift her up, he secured his kill with some rope from one of the saddle bags.

As he moved to climb onto the horse's back he noticed the Strider lower his head to sniff at the young fawn that had followed; stupid with innocence and lack of fear. Dravite hissed, "I know what you are doing!"

He knelt to reach out to the fawn and when it came near, sniffing the blood of its mother on the man's hands he took it under arm and climbed up onto Cree's back, steering the horse towards Endrykas before setting off. He had refused to acknowledge Caiyha since his mother's death, but felt the goddess reach out to him through the helpless fawn. "I know what you are doing," he said again, "and I accept your apology..." .
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[Dravite]

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As he slipped from Cree's back upon returning to camp, Belkaia rushed out to meet him, her bright look of love and admiration turned to fear as she caught sight of her husband. "By the gods, what happened?" She cried and pawed at the man's temple and lower lip gently.
"Don't fuss, I am fine," he told her; still holding the fawn under arm.
"Were you attacked?"
"No," he admitted, "I merely fell."
"Fell, how?"
"From Cree's back. I'm fine."

He went into the tent and poured some water into a bucket for the fawn who sniffed at the clear, cool liquid before drinking deeply. "I thought you were hungry," the man smiled, "your belly feels so empty.

Belkaia sat down beside Dravite and took a rag to soak in the water before wringing it out to fold and dab against his forehead gently. The two sat in silence for a time as she cleaned away the dry blood from his face. "You might have to wash your hair," the woman finally cooed.
"I will," he promised.
"Please tell me what happened, why did you bring a fawn home?"
"It is a gift from Caiyha, she wants me to protect her."
Belkaia sobbed, but it seemed she half wanted to laugh with disbelief. "My love, how hard did you hit your head?"
Dravite narrowed his gaze at the woman and frowned. "You don't believe me..."
"Of course I believe you, only--"
"Stop," he cut her off mid-sentence. "Belkaia she showed me what I did not see when Lazuli passed; that it was an accident. She did not mean to take my mother's life."

Belkaia chewed her lower lip, worry and concern twisting her features gently. This was his grief talking, the woman told herself; he was not dealing well with his mother's passing and now he believed the goddess Caiyha had sent him a sign in the form of a young fawn who seemed to share the man's grief; if indeed animals grieved. She sighed and lowered her gaze to watch the fawn drink from the bucket.

"Where is my son?" Dravite asked.
"In the tent next door with Roan."
"I am taking him to the marketplace with me to sell the deer."
"Both of them?" Belkaia inquired.
Dravite gave his wife a sidelong glance. "No, the fawn stays with me from now on."

Belkaia covered her mouth slowly to stop herself from laughing, or crying, or worse... Telling her husband he sounded half mad. She set the dirty rag aside and took the bucket outside to offer the last of the water to the goats and waved Dravite and Kyanite goodbye as they left camp with Cree, still carrying the dead Doe on his back, in tow. "Belhatir," Belkaia whispered, "where are you when he needs you most..."

The marketplace wasn't as busy in the afternoon when the morning rush was over and lunch had long passed. Cree stood batting flies away with his tail and yawning as Dravite struck up a conversation with a tanner. "Aye, my brother is a butcher," he explained, "he can get you a fair price for the nice Doe."
"She was strong," Dravite told him, watching his son play with some of the children nearby, "my horse ran into her; that's how she broke her leg."
"Why don't you wait here while I send my boy to go fetch my brother, he prefers to cut them up while they are still fresh and I know he'll be able to pay you before he takes her off your hands."
Dravite tightened his arms carefully around the sleeping fawn and held her against his leather covered chest. "Go fetch him, I can wait," the horse lord agreed, lifting a hand to rub his throbbing temple.
"Can I get you anything while you wait?" The tanner asked, "it could be half a bell before he gets here."
"Just some water if it's not too much trouble," Dravite smiled, suddenly realising how thirsty he was.
"No trouble at all," the man beamed and set down a wooden mug for his guest to drink from, leaving his water-skin alongside it for Dravite to help himself to as much or as little as he pleased.

The tanner left to fetch his son and Dravite looked up in search of his own, catching a quick glimpse of a boy with a mop of wheat coloured hair, just like Kyanite. He took a second mug of water and downed it slowly while he watched the children play, suddenly realising the boy he had his eye on was much faster and somewhat taller than his son. Panic set in as Dravite put the wooden mug down on the counter and walked into the crowd of children, asking if any of them had seen his son, Kyanite. One of the little girls led him on a wild goose-chase between some of the tents before he returned to the starting point; sure Kyanite couldn't have wandered far. "Kyan!" He called with a voice like thunder.

The young fawn started awake and looked up at the calling man who shouted again for his son. "Kyanite?"

He walked down one of the streets leaving Cree beside the tanner's setup. People looked at him as if he were mad, this full grown man who had seen too much sun and traversed the streets with a baby deer, calling like a wild man. One woman pointed to a nearby woodpile that had been covered up to protect it from the elements, "I think your boy went that way."

Dravite stopped dead in his tracks when he recognised the same too-black hair that could only belong to one person he knew. "Mayra," he hissed under his breath and crossed the street like a storm, stopping a few feet from the familiar stranger. He was without his spear or dagger, both weapons set aside and left back at camp before he had departed. The horse lord had no way to protect his son if the woman decided to be hostile, other than the short, sharp hatchet on his belt.

"Kyanite," he yelled and signed his frustration in Pavi; you must never run away from me, it will worry me! It is dangerous in Endrykas with all these strangers!

The boy ducked behind the woodpile and stared up at Mayra, tapping his small, white teeth with the tip of his chubby little finger as if to say 'uh oh, now I'm in trouble.'.
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[Mayra]

And there he was. Dravite and the looming cloud of insanity that seemed to follow him. Before the halfbreed could fully react to the man, and the fact that he was carrying a frightened fawn, he was in her face. But instead of yelling at her, as she supposed he would, the man yelled at the child once before throwing his hands up again in the language she could not understand.

The child disapeared and Mayra stuck her tongue out at the man before turning after him. Plucking her book and pile from the top of the stack, Mayra crawled to the other side of the wood, taking care not to tip the stack, before slipping off. Her feet hit the ground and she rolled into her knees, grateful that the jump was no so high. Right now her worry was on the Kyanite, whatever his relation to the crazy horseman, who seemed to be telling her something again. He pointed to his teeth and looked down at her sheepishly, even mischievously.

"Uh-oh!" She mouthed, hoping it was a common enough understanding, and animated her face as silly as she could make it before offering her hands to the child to help him down from the stack. "Down we go, littl'un. I wouldn't want to get between you two." She offered the child, waving with her hands. He hesitated for only a moment before jumping into her arms, which threw her off by his weight. She stumbled a second before lowering the child to the ground, and he was off. Likely to face Dravite before the real anger began.

Mayra turned to follow the child only to find herself face to face with Dravite directly after, a mere fawn separating them. Her heart picked up immediately, and she glanced down at his hip. There was a hatchet, but she saw no spear... and she didn't see her dagger. Either way his hands were consumed with the baby deer, wide eyed and the image of pure fear and confusion. This caught her attention for a few ticks longer than needed. The poor thing was scared to death, probably because he was carried through the busy marketplace. For a man who preached of caring for nature, he had no respect for this fawn. Either he meant to bring it to the butcher, or he had taken it from its home for some reason. Both would distress the baby animal more than any baby animal needed or deserved. Realizing she was now frowning, Mayra smirked, looking back up at Dravite. "You really shouldn't play with your food, makes the meat go bad." And you really should choose a grown dear for your dinner. Mayra stepped to the side, not adding the last half of her thought. The last time she was snarky with this man, he waved a spear in her face. She had learned, but she didn't mind playing with the boundaries before it got dangerous. Yet she was nervous again, her feet turned into the fluttery hops of prey again. Would he snap again? Would he attack her in this busy market place? She wasn't so disadvantaged here. It may be his city, it may be his people, but she knew she could hide, and he looked a little ruffled. He had his younger kin to look after as well. Finally, Mayra decided she could afford to be a little more confident in facing the insane horselord before her.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

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"Mayra," he spoke her name as masterfully as if he had known it since he was a child. The man was rolling thunder, the type that came out of nowhere without the warning of rain and tended to erupt just as unexpectedly; yet, like a passing storm over the sea, all things soon subsided, including the rumble of his anger. His boy was unharmed, smiling even, and if it had not been for the woman from the mountains of Kalea, there was no telling how far Kyanite might have ventured.

He went down on one knee, holding his left arm out to the child, the frightened fawn settled under the right against his broken rib; thankfully, she was light. It seemed a strange way for anyone to crouch, but he had to be mindful of the invisible injury. Kyanite turned on his toes momentarily, as if fearful to step too close to his father, having tasted the man's anger before; however, the boy knew better than to disobey and soon put his arms around the man's neck so that Dravite could attempt at lifting him. The horse lord closed his eyes and strained to stand, sucking in air through gritted teeth.

Once he was back on his feet, he had a few questions for the godless woman. "Fawn is not dinner. Fawn is message from the goddess, Caiyha." It seemed his common hadn't improved at all, though by the end of the season it might; the city humming with all types of strangers, here to trade and make a tidy profit before the winter for the city of Syliras.

Dravite didn't know why he had bothered to tell the woman about the fawn, she didn't believe in his gods anyway and would probably only laugh at the idea of them again. He looked at Kyanite and was reminded that even if Mayra did seem strange, she had not taken off with his son, as was all too common in places such as these; Drykas took slaves all the times, but is wasn't unusual for outsiders to try and make slaves out of their children, given half the chance. "Come," the man insisted and turned to head back towards his business in the marketplace, though to make sure that she would follow him, he added, "get Mayra's dagger."

As he walked, he made sure it was with Mayra at his side, if not a little ahead of him so that he could keep an eye on her and the weapons she was decorated with. He was sick of the sun and should probably spend a few days inside the tent, if he could stand the humidity for more than a few bells. It took them a few chimes to make their way into the thick of the marketplace where he had left his Strider, and this gave Dravite the opportunity to ask the main question on his mind. "Mayra did not leave Endrykas," he half smiled at the thought of tension he imagined turning its own knot between her shoulders, "what business has Mayra in the city of tents?"

Or perhaps, he told himself, she was running from something or someone that was even more frightening than the wraith of a crazed horseman and the flesh eating children of the gods. Roan had told him of a horse breed in Syliras that lived on raw meat alone and did not graze the land like the Drykas horses do. He had been tempted to go to Syliras and see this for himself, fearing the boy was messing with him, though he had seemed quite serious. A man eating horse, nothing intrigued the warrior more, consumed by the idea of raising such a creature to have at his side in battle. He seemed to make his mind up then and there, that travel to Syliras was a real possibility towards the end of summer; how long he would stay was another matter. .
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[Mayra]

What was with this man and getting injured? The first time she met him the horseman was bitten by a snake. Now, as she watched him pick up his child, she could see clear evidence of pain. If not in his steel hardened face, the wonderful result of her presence, but by his movements, and the way he breathed.

"Fawn is not dinner. Fawn is message from the goddess, Caiyha." She had to keep herself from flinching at his harsh words. Not for her sake, but for the poor fawns, and maybe the boy's as well. So Mayra decided to play along.

"So it is..." She glanced at the fawn for a second, it was shivering with fright, far too much stimulation. By how young it looked, Dravite could have only picked it up from the wild. After being taken from its mother, wherever the Doe may be, and then paraded through the bustling lanes of the tent-city, the poor animal would not eat for days. She had to stop Dravite from terrorizing the poor thing, even if he didn't know any better. Dravite seemed to pause for a bit, glancing at the child once. This caused Mayra to follow his eyes, looking at Kyanite in a different light. Shocking green eyes were just like Dravite's, and although his golden locks were loose, she could see the bone structure of the man before her.

If she had ever seen Dravite smile, she wouldn't have doubted the conclusion she came to, but she couldn't help a small grin light her face when she realized his connection to the child. He was Kyanite's father. How sweet. Mayra's heart picked up in speed when she realized who's child she had been playing with. If not for Dravite's injury, she could have been skinned right there.

"Come," Mayra jumped, a new wave of nerves as she came to the horrifying conclusion. Kyanite looked at her and she flashed the child a closed-mouth smile, thinking it not a good idea to show her teeth to Dravite any longer. "Get Mayra's dagger."

"Let's get Mayra's dagger." She muttered under her breathe, walking forward when Dravite didn't. He seemed to want to follow her through the streets, like she was a hostage. It was utterly embarrassing, not to add in the fact that she didn't know where she was going. Under any other circumstances, Mayra would have been ecstatic over getting back her favorite shiny metal weapon. But her concerns lay elsewhere, the fawn for example.

She wanted to calm the animal before it developed an illness. Stress could do horrible things to such a young deer. If Dravite truly believed in the nature-lady-God that he did, would he not see to treat this animal right. Scared to touch the fawn, she tried to calm the animal with a different method. She could feel the djed flowing through her throat again. An uncomfortable, yet soothing, heat that crawled up her veins and weighed her tongue down. She would have preferred to attach the djed to a word, make it more effective, but it wouldn't do. No need to call anymore attention to herself. Calm. She shoved the emotion towards the deer as best she could. The poor thing barely seemed to catch the suggestion. Peace, loved one. She tried a different emotion. The more familiar emotion of a mother's love. The cool touch of slender fingers stroking your hair late at night. The feeling of restlessness, either from a cold or the screams of your fellow slaves, and the familiar caress of the only woman who could love you the most. If she hadn't been producing the familiar emotion, she would have thought she had calmed herself down. Surely the fawn would understand the suggestion of a mother's love, the ultimate relaxer.

"Mayra did not leave Endrykas," Mayra tore her attention away from the fawn, uncertain if she had gotten the last suggestion, the more important one, through. Suddenly she was irritated with Dravite. She was helping the poor thing! Could he be somewhat considerate of it? "What business has Mayra in the city of tents?"

Maybe he doesn't know what he is doing. "Umm, I ran out of money. No one will take me further." Mayra answered, distracted. She should be worried by his reaction, or playing with him as she had before, but Mayra had always been a different person in company of an animal than another person. She paused for a few ticks, mulling over her next move. Before looking back up at Dravite. "Dravite?" She dared call his attention to her, worry painted across her face. She simply couldn't take it any longer. "I don't suppose you could um... shift... the fawn." She tried to motion as he was doing, with one arm. The animal was only being held by its torso, it needed to be fully-supported, cradled if possible. And with only one hand...

"Can I?" She stopped, opening her arms, asking for the fawn. "You are stressing him out, he's going to get sick." Black eyes flitted between the distressed fawn and the madman that held it. Perhaps he meant the thing no harm, either way he would have to spend a few days working with the animal to get it to even eat if he wanted it to live. It would be dead before he knew it.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

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“The tears I feel today
I'll wait to shed tomorrow.
Though I'll not sleep this night
Nor find surcease from sorrow.
My eyes must keep their sight:
I dare not be tear-blinded.
I must be free to talk
Not choked with grief, clear-minded.
My mouth cannot betray
The anguish that I know.
Yes, I'll keep my tears til later:
But my grief will never go.”
― Anne McCaffrey

Mayra had run out of money, she explained to him, and no one would take her any further. "Mayra work for money," he told her, ignoring his first thought, that he would escort Mayra out of Endrykas to the nearest city for free; but the horse lord was far too busy this season to go on personal escapades across country if they did not pay well.

The three of them were almost where Dravite wanted to be when the woman spoke his name, stopping him in his tracks; why did his name sound so strange coming from her? Was it the foreign accent? He stood there looking at her, trying to decide when he noticed the woman reach out. Instinctively he turned his son away from her reach, but when she spoke of the fawn, the man pinned her with a look that promised all sorts of pain. Perhaps she was right, perhaps he was crazy, or maybe he had hit his head too hard as his wife feared.

Dravite did something that would later shock him to his very core when he looked back on it. He pressed his lips to the top of his son's head through the wheat coloured hair and spoke in Pavi to the boy before passing him into Mayra's arms. "Be good for Mayra, no pulling her hair," he warned Kyanite and repositioned the fawn so that he held her comfortably against his chest with one arm, and closed his large palm over her eyes gently as he had seen members of the Windborne pavilion do before with frightened animals.

"It's all right," Dravite whispered to the fawn; he could feel her racing heartbeat slowly start to wind down and soon return to normal, just as it had been while she had slept in his arms.

Dravite walked ahead, it seemed all his concerns regarding Mayra had gone with the wind, though he listened to see that she followed close behind. He felt numb, overwhelmed and completely void of his own thoughts all at the same time. What must she think of him, handing over his own flesh and blood to a complete stranger before he would give up the young doe? It was madness, it made no sense, and still the man felt he must justify himself to the godless woman. "She is my mother."

Mayra could put it down to his lack of understanding the common tongue perhaps, but Dravite had never used it better. The horse people of Endrykas believed that when they died, their souls returned to the web to be born again as it were, to walk the land as man or Strider. Man or Strider, not fawn, he would later tell himself once he slipped from his stupor.

They moved onto the main stretch of the marketplace and came to stand near the tanner's stall. His son had returned with the butcher and all three of them were working together to take the large doe down from Cree's back. "She's a beautiful animal," the tanner smiled as they moved her onto the ground and undid the bindings that had kept her on the horse.
"I can give you a fair price," the butcher piped up, "no doubt my brother will try to take a cut from you first."
Dravite laughed. "A cut? How so?"
"By offering to tan the hide for you," the tanner spoke up, "and you can keep the rest of the miza for yourself."

Dravite looked at the lifeless doe that had bled out all over his Strider's side, staining the horse's buckskin coat. "I will allow you to tan the hide for me if you can pay me the difference now," Dravite spoke up, not wanting to let the pair take the meat for free.
"Of course," the butcher agreed and reached into the pocket of his trousers to fetch what he believed the meat was worth.

The young horse lord paid the tanner what it would cost to tan the hide for Dravite to come and collect another day, before pocketing the remaining money for himself and his family. He thanked the men and signalled for Cree to follow him back to camp. The fawn stretched to sniff at the large stallion, which nickered, shaking the mass of black mane down the length of his neck, back and forth before touching the fawn's spotted back with his soft muzzle. "Sorry," Dravite told Mayra; it must be hard for her, he thought, having to suffer through occasions like this where she was unable to understand what anyone was saying.

Looking at the woman, he remembered what he had promised her and quickly searched the saddlebags strapped over Cree's back for her dagger. When he was unable to locate it he felt a little guilty and figured he must have left it back at camp with the rest of his things. "He can ride," Dravite pointed with his eyes, glancing from Kyanite to his Strider's back in case Mayra felt uncomfortable holding the boy, "join us for a meal, Mayra?"
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[Mayra]

And then the child was in her arms. Not exactly what she asked for, but worth something. The child crossed his arms over the woman's neck, probably as shocked as she was. Mayra raised her eyes when she watched the man re-position the fawn, placing a hand over her eyes. So he was doing something for her. It soothed Mayra enough to turn her attention to Kyanite who looked at her quizzically. She winked at him playfully and continued to walk alongside Dravite. He cooed something to the fawn, which made Mayra roll her eyes. At least the man was trying.

"She is my mother." Mayra nodded to him, eyebrows raising. Perhaps his grasp of common was less than she thought. Or perhaps he believed in souls as her mother had. From what little she knew of the man, she guessed it was likely the latter. I won't bring it up again. Mayra said nothing, preferring not to bring his wrath upon her again. Suddenly Dravite stopped, which forced Mayra to stop as well. A flurry of hands and words ensued between Dravite and some other horseman, over something she didn't understand. She had forgotten about the weight in her arms until she felt a sharp jab on the side of her head. She turned to the child who immediately looked away sheepishly.

She'd never really been around children, but she just assumed they always needed to be entertained. Her ignoring the blonde-beauty in her arms would of course leave him to his own devices. "You don't see much natural hair around here do you? Everyone keeps it braided down." She grinned at the child even though she knew he couldn't understand her.

"You know, in my mother's tribe, you know what they called tied hair? Crows-print. Becuase they looked like the dance a crow leaves in the sand." She reached up to walk her fingers along the child's skull, effectively tickling him. He giggled, amused by her foreign language, and she grinned at him.

"Sorry," Both their attention turned back to Dravite who had now turned away from whatever conversation he was having.

"I'm used to it." Her voice lowered. And she was, being ignored in this city was nothing new, or hardly uncomfortable. Dravite turned from her then, bringing her attention to the massive horse that she hadn't noticed moments before. She was caught up in trying to entertain Kyanite with words he didn't understand to notice the Strider standing a few feet away. Mayra's palms got sweaty quickly. She had learned that the horse would not eat her, she owned her own after all. But that didn't mean she still wasn't a bit nervous about him.

After searching his bags, Dravite motioned towards the horse, telling her Kyanite can ride it. She assumed Dravite wanted her to put his child down now. She didn't mind the toddler, he was quite amusing, if not mostly confusing. But she was doing what she could to appease the horseman now. As soon as she got her dagger back she wouldn't have to ever interact with him again, be done with this boring pleasantness. Mayra nodded, and stepped forward, shifting Kyanite so that he could reach for the strange saddle on the horse's back. But she was too nervous to step too close to the animal, who seemed hardly bothered by her presence. Kyanite whines something when she didn't step close enough for him to reach, and she took the necessary step forward for the boy to climb on. As soon as she felt the child's weight disappear she took a few steps back.

"Join us for a meal, Mayra?" Mayra's eyebrows rose at Dravite's words. Was he really going to do this again? Lure her in with food and then attack her once it was done? Admittedly, she wouldn't mind proper food if Dravite could provide it. Her own cooking skills were nonexistant which forced her to mostly rely on cold meals. But she didn't want to owe this man. And she didn't want to have this end as badly as it did last time.

"Okay." Her stomach won the argument. Her stomach and the fact that he probably had her dagger at his tent. Boy did she want that dagger back. Glancing up at Kyanite who was re-positioning himself on the horse again. She stepped closer to Dravite, sticking her finger in his face and lowering her voice so the child couldn't hear. "But don't you dare point that spear at me again. These teeth aren't just for show, you know." But then she winked and grinned at the man, trying to pass her sudden threat off as a joke. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea, but Mayra had never been really good at thinking before she spoke. She would have to find a proper way to pay the man back for this. Then I can get him out of my life. If I don't owe him anything.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

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One torch marked out the entrance to their camp. Roan Winterstorm had returned from his hunt empty handed, and greeted them all outside his tent. The boy was used to strangers and wasn't fazed at all by the sight of Mayra, who he recognised on basis of her blacked out eyes. "Chaktawe," he smiled.

"Mayra," Dravite corrected him with a hiss; he wasn't as familiar with the many races of the world as Roan was.

The man took his son from his Strider's back and held him above the ground until the boy found his feet and disappeared into the tent to find his mother Belkaia pouring goat milk from the bucket into two jars. "Kaia!" Dravite boomed, still silently fuming at Mayra's threat; how dare she shake her finger in his face, the horse lord thought to himself.

He had managed to keep his cool, perhaps because they had been in the busy marketplace or as a result of his attention being focused on Kyanite at the time. Either way, the storm within him saw dark clouds gather; there was an electric aura about him, as if reaching out to touch him might see a person shocked stiff. Belkaia appeared from within the tent and looked at her husband before turning her honey-coloured eyes on Mayra. "Husband," she spoke in a stern tone of voice for only she knew how to calm his inner storm.

"Wife," he couldn't help but smile when he caught sight of her.

The two embraced, left hands raised to cup the other’s head, noses pressed together; they shared a brief kiss before parting, the fawn still cushioned gently against the man's chest with his right arm. "My love, this is Mayra from the mountains of Kalea," he told her in Pavi before adding, "she speaks the common tongue."
Belkaia smiled and raised with hooked finger to her brow, a hand in greeting. "Welcome to our home, Mayra."

Belkaia had a lot better grasp on the common language than her husband, while he had spent most of his youth learning the land and hunting to feed the Windborne pavilion, Belkaia had practiced her lessons in language and the arts with rest of the young girls. She was a beautiful singer, and mastered words with ease. "I am Belkaia Blackwater, this is my son, Kyanite, and our family friend, Roan Winterstorm."

Roan nodded and Dravite left them to their introductions and ducked into the opening of his tent to look for the dagger. He set the fawn down in the long grass in the far right hand corner of the tent that the tarp didn't quite cover; waited until she was settled, and then dug through his things in search of the blade belonging to the godless woman.

From outside the tent there was not much to see. The small family had a herd of eight goats and two horses, not including Roan's mount. There was nothing fancy in the way of decorations, weapons, or hides. Most of the skins they had accumulated were shabby and home-cured by Dravite himself. There was no elaborate fire pit, clay bowls, or cooking utensils, just a hot pan set over a low burning fire with a handful of carrots ready to be diced and some lean cuts of beef that looked as if they wouldn't go around the five of them; a meal for two, stretched to feed four. Two tattered shirts danced back and forth in the breeze, pinned up on a line of rope that stretched between the two tents. These were not a people of means, it was clear to see.

Dravite reappeared from within the tent and pulled the leather tabard off over his shoulders to hang up on the line along with his shirt, both marked with blood, like his dirty blonde hair. He turned from the washing line and presented the dagger Mayra had been without for over half a season, flawless and kept just as she had left it, if not a little cleaner. He looked her dead in the eyes as she took the blade from his fingers, but said nothing his gaze hadn't already declared; threaten me again, his eyes told her, and I will not hesitate to blind you with your own knife.

"Will you be joining us for a meal?" Belkaia asked the woman as Dravite averted his gaze.
"Please do!" Roan beamed, "I want to hear all about the mountains of Kalea!" .
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