Whither is thy Beloved gone? (Dravite)

by **Dravite** on June 12th, 2015, 4:33 am

Belkaia seemed to have taken a liking to Arandia which wasn’t like the woman as she didn’t tend to make friends easily, or trust anyone for that matter. It had taken Dravite years to get close to her and for all the love she did give to him, Belkaia still had a way of seeming to distant and cold at times. It is because we have been abandoned, he told himself, not recognising Arandia’s natural warmth towards people through his own inability to offer it up himself. His suggestion to escort Arandia to Endrykas seemed as kind as he was in the mood for after the hell he had been through in the last few days.

“Don’t fuss,” Belkaia smiled at Arandia, “Just put it wherever it fits.”

Once Belkaia was on her horse Dravite lifted Kyanite into her arms and set his large hand on the boy’s leg as he spoke to his wife. “Not too far ahead, I don’t think I can keep up but I will try.”

Belkaia kissed the top of her husband’s head and three of them sat silently for a time, Dravite leaning heavily against his wife’s mount as he slipped away into a light trance, searching ahead of them in the Drykas webbing for any dangers he might find there. When he came to, Kyanite had taken a woven thread of his hair and tugged it sharply. “I’m going,” Dravite raised his hands playfully, signing the word hurry in Pavi to the impatient boy.

Getting on his horse proved more difficult than normal, forced to tighten the yvas so that it would not turn as he pulled his weight up onto the animal’s back and threw a leg over. Once he was comfortable, he loosened the yvas a little and felt Cree stubbornly suck in a great gulp of air to try and loosen the tie further. Dravite put his leg back and poked the animal in the soft part of his belly, causing the Strider to skip forward. “Stop being a pain,” He rubbed the animal’s neck and the small group soon set off.

● ● ●

They travelled in relative silence, just the light rumble of hooves against the dry ground and rustling grass breaking the peace. Dravite kept a close eye on Belkaia and his son, watching the way the boy gripped the yvas as if he had been born to the saddle of a Strider’s back. Pride swelled in the man’s heart, lifting his shoulders that were suddenly feather-light; it meant everything to him to watch his boy grow as strong and independent as he had fancied himself to be when he was younger.

Far away and dreaming and ignoring the dull pain in his side, Dravite had almost completely forgotten that Arandia was traveling with them until she spoke up, talking to herself or perhaps the stallion she was sat on. He looked over his shoulder at the woman quizzically, about to ask what she had said before she quickly cut him off and changed the subject.

”Where is your pavilion? Why were the three of you out there alone?”

The question seemed to send the man into another light daydream and quickly his thought went to his mother, Lazuli. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose as if to compose himself, not ready to talk about her or the group that had abandoned them. “I'm building my own pavilion,” the man admitted, “that is why we were alone, because we choose to be.”

Belkaia looked back over her shoulder and noticed that her husband had said something to the kind stranger. She made her horse slow down to allow the two of them to catch up to her. “Is something troubling you, my love?”
He was tempted to ask them both to stop and rest but they hadn’t been long enough into the journey to justify stopping now. “I was just saying that Endrykas can't be too far away,” he smiled at Belkaia and she returned the warm gesture before galloping on ahead.

Cree hated the pace, especially now that he had found a new friend in Beloved. He wanted to go fast and show the other Strider what he was capable of. Dravite felt the tension in the stallion’s muscles and the way he arched his neck, hammering his hooves against the earth heavily in protest. “We should rest soon, have something to drink and then try to get to Endrykas before sun down.” .
.
.

by **Arandia** on June 13th, 2015, 11:07 pm

.
.

There was a brother. A baby. Not even a year old, the baby brother was born in fall, near winter. Ioanis had named him Akila, after a kind of fearsome creature that a Syliran merchant who said he had been to Falyndar told him about. They were vicious, Ioanis said, and when they howled it was as if a thousand cursed souls--probably the ones it had consumed--howled with it. Arandia listened, wide-eyed, goosebumps forming on her arms and her spine.

“Why would you name him something like that?” Ruhama shuddered. “Does he look like a monster to you?”
“It’s a good name. Akila,” Ioanis said, “and, Zulrav willing, our son will grow to be as strong and unchallenged as the Akila hound.”
“But will he be kind?”
“He will be strong.”
“But will he be kind?”
“What good is kindness to the dead?”

They named him Akila. But for all of Ioanis’ toughness anyone could see that Akila would be raised to be strong, yes, but kind. A man’s strength and his character, Ioanis believed, was best defined by how he treated others -- especially those that were less than him. When Ruhama fell ill with catarrh and finally succumbed to the strange fever that followed, Akila was put under Ehileen’s care. Ehileen had also given birth in the fall to a girl-child named Celandine, and she and Akila shared Ehileen’s milk as siblings from then on.

Arandia hardly ever saw her brother, but she thought of him now as she rode with Dravite’s little family. Would he be like Kyanite, she wondered, when he could walk and talk and see the world with the eyes his mother gave him?

And Dravite. He reminded her of Ioanis. For all of his tough talk and his brass, it was difficult to see Dravite as anything other than a gentle soul; Arandia had already seen him with his wife and his child. A man that took so much pride in his son and whose wife was so affectionate couldn’t be bad.

“It is a great task,” Arandia said, “to build your own pavilion. I wonder why you would.”
Belkaia fell in stride next to them. “Is something troubling you, my love,” she asked, looking at both Arandia and Dravite. Arandia averted her eyes and smiled at her yvas.
“Endrykas can’t be too far,” Dravite told Belkaia.
There was something more to this breaking away from their pavilion. Arandia wondered what, but hesitated to ask.
“We should rest soon,” Dravite said, loud enough for both women to hear, “have something to drink and then try to get to Endrykas before sun down.”

They stopped soon after, resting under the shade of a large tree with wide, outstretched arms, almost like horns reaching to the sky. The leaves were large, waxy, and shaped like hooves. Arandia jumped off her yvas, landed (a little unstably) by the tree’s root system. She pulled out her dagger and cut out a small portion of the bark. Bright yellow, sticky sap, like honey, bled out of the cut. “It’s called a Nabato Oak,” Arandia said, wiping the blade of her dagger on the bark. “The sap is sweet. You might like some.” She had seen Serai make candies out of the sap, but often the woman chewed on the bark raw too.

To show that it was harmless, Arandia put some of the bark in her mouth and sucked. It was sweet, like honey, but also herby and woody. The bark was a good spoon for the sap. “Try it,” Arandia said, smiling at the three of them. There was a little of the golden yellow sap on her front lip. Kyanite laughed at it, pointing. Arandia grinned wider, and wiped her mouth with the side of her forefinger. “It’s good,” Arandia said, cutting another little piece of bark for the boy.

They rested for a few minutes. Kyanite fell asleep across Belkaia’s lap, his little legs on Arandia’s knee. Shy at first, they had taken a liking to each other after the maple, and after Arandia told him a short story about a gentle Nabato and his best friend, Kyanite.

“They went on many adventures,” she said, “and they lived happily ever after,” finishing more for Belkaia’s benefit than for Kyanite, who had already fallen asleep between the river and the sea in the story that Arandia told. Belkaia had been listening, although she was trying not to make it too apparent.

Belkaia fell asleep not long after, too. She snored lightly, her head against the trunk of the Nabato tree.

After a while, Arandia spoke to Dravite. “How’s your side?” He grunted a reply. Arandia tightened Kyanite’s sandals, gently so she wouldn’t wake him up. “I wonder if the Ankal really does know I’m here,” Arandia said, pretending to be speaking to herself. “Teke used to be so nice to me. Now he just treats me like most everyone else in my pavilion does, like I’m little more than a foreigner.”

Dravite was quiet.

“I was eight when I came to Endrykas. The Watch saved my mother and me from the Sea of Grass. Our caravan had been attacked by plunderers and rather than be raped or killed, we took our chances with the grasslands.”

Arandia looked at Dravite’s profile, and the way he held his features. Still as he could, almost as if he weren’t listening. But she knew, by the way his ears moved and the way his eyes didn’t, that he was. “She died in the Winter, last year. From catarrh and a fever. Nehrar didn’t make it in time from Endrykas; mother was too weak to ride, and Ioanis had to go to Endrykas and fetch the doctor himself. And then Ioanis died in the Spring from that fire. So far it hasn't been a very good year for my pavilion." She paused. "Do you know about the fire that happened?”
.
.
.

by **Dravite** on June 14th, 2015, 1:09 am

Dravite stumbled from the saddle of his horse’s back and hid his discomfort in the palm of his hand, shielding his face before rubbing his eyes to make it seem as if he were just tired when Belkaia glanced in his direction. They hadn’t slept well in days, weeks even since the spring wildfires had taken their tent and bedroll, and after his mother’s passing; well Dravite felt safe to assume that sleep was a luxury he would no long be able to indulge. He managed a smile and slung his arm over Cree’s back, stealing a slow, shallow breath from the earth; Zulrav give me strength.

Belkaia left his side with Kyanite to sit near Arandia who explained the properties of a Nabato Oak. Dravite reached up and plucked one of the leaves from the tree to run the pad of his thumb over its waxy surface. “Lazuli showed me something like this before,” he said quietly as if he were talking to his horse, “waxy leaves protect plants for dehydration.”

Lazuli had been the pavilions main healer, a doctor as Belkaia had named her. She was an expert when it came to working with the plants across the land and taught Dravite from a very young age how to detect if something was poisonous. ‘You can always tell a poisonous plant by these key qualities,’ she had told him, ‘white berries, milky sap, thorns, spines and hairs, leaves in groups of three, a bitter taste or almond scent, and seeds, beans or bulbs protected by pods.’

He looked down at the leaf, breaking it in his hand to squeeze the clear sap from the waxy folds. Dravite touched the broken edge to the tip of his tongue and discarded the leaf as he looked up in search of seed-pods. Arandia was not lying, was not trying to poison his family, and so he nodded to Belkaia to accept the piece of yellow bark she had been offered before crouching down to cut away three or four roots that would fit in the saddlebag to take back to Endrykas. Perhaps there he might find another use for them, or be able to sell them to a merchant visiting from Syliras.

Soon, both Belkaia and Kyanite had drifted off to sleep. Either Arandia was a very good storyteller, or a terrible one, Dravite thought to himself as he paced back and forth slowly like a man with a toothache. The dull pain in his side had been aggravated by the ride and now it was giving him trouble. Arandia asked how he was holding up and the man stopped, annoyed that she was already so good at reading him. He had been about to say something when the woman spoke of her pavilion and someone named Teke, who had once been her friend.

He was quiet.

She spoke again, and this time it was not another one of her fictional stories, but the tale of how she and her mother had come to find Endrykas and later call it home. So he had been right, he told himself; she was not of this place, those eyes had been a dead give-away, as beautiful as they were. The young horse lord glanced at his guest but looked away before she made eye contact. Arandia spoke of the spring wildfire and Dravite bowed his head, lifting his hands to set them against his hips. “We lost a lot in the fire,” he admitted, “though our pavilion was lucky to escape the resulting death toll. I don't think anyone ever worked out what caused it?”

I’m sorry for your loss. Five words he meant to say that his tongue did not give life to. The man was still so consumed by all he had lost in the last few days; so much so that even now he did not want to believe that he was not dreaming. Dravite stared ahead at the trunk of the tree for a moment or two before moving to lower himself against one of the twisted roots that would be easier to get up from than the ground. “Reddawn?” He asked to confirm the name. “I will find out if they are watching.”

He closed his eyes tight, shutting out Syna’s light in search of the light blue tentacles of the web. As he took hold of a glowing thread, his body relaxed and his head rolled forward as if he had been put under a hypnotic spell. Endrykas was close enough that he did not have to weave his way through the webbing long before he found what he was seeking. REDDAWN, he called aloud with his thoughts, knowing anyone who knew the name would answer. When there came no reply he called again and was twice ignored. Dravite circled the outskirts of Endrykas, looking for any large pavilions that were setting up camp. He found two or three, one that had just finish.

Teke Reddawn, he said and a voice from the web replied. “I know Teke Reddawn; his pavilion has just set up camp near the Ruby Clan.”

“Thank you,” Dravite replied and wasted no time crossing to that side of Endrykas.

Again he called, and again there came no reply. When he returned to his body under the old Nabato Oak, he lifted his head slowly and opened his eyes to find that he was looking straight into the rich, blue-green eyes that belonged to Arandia, who must have moved from her position to join him while he had been lost in his trance. His lips parted subtly to suck in a quiet breath and finally he blinked, releasing himself from the charm of her gaze. “They are looking for you,” he lied, glancing over at his Strider, “we should get going so that we don’t keep them waiting too long. I’m sure they miss you” .
.
.

by **Arandia** on June 14th, 2015, 8:08 am

.
.

Ioanis had been a Webber, and so was the Ankal, and Ioanis often told stories about the web, or described to Arandia what he saw in them. He taught a few of his younger sons and daughters, or some of his relatives in the pavilion. It was an invaluable gift, Ioanis said, because the Web was where one became connected to the rest of the Sea of Grass. Even, Ioanis liked to say, the rest of Mizahar.

Arandia was fascinated by them, these Webbers. The particularly good ones were more often than not off in worlds of their own, which explained Dravite’s eyes slipping away now and then, even during a conversation. But a webber was inestimable to his pavilion; they could warn everyone of danger, or even help the hunters to look for a small herd of deer.

Or find frightened girls and their mothers up in the tops of trees. Or see if sixteen year old boys were telling the truth to naive sixteen year old girls.

Before Dravite made her doubt it herself, it hadn’t occurred to Arandia that Teke would lie to her about something. And it didn’t occur to Arandia that Dravite would lie about her pavilion looking for her.

Curious, she sat down in front of him, watched him slip into his trance, like he had before. When Dravite opened his eyes he looked startled, and gasped as if he were coming back into himself. Which, Arandia imagined, was probably what it felt like. She imagined the feeling was like waking up all of a sudden, right before she hit the ground in a dream of falling.

Their eyes met. Eager to hear word from her pavilion, Arandia forgot to be shy. “They are looking for you,” he said. He looked disturbed. “We should get going so that we don’t keep them waiting long.” The corners of her mouth twitched up into a hesitant little smile. “I’m sure they miss you,” Dravite said. Arandia felt her heart flood with joy: Teke hadn’t been lying, and the Ankal was looking for her in the web. There hadn’t been anything to fear after all.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said, gathering her things. She picked up Teke Reddawn’s earthen pot and cradled it against the hollow of her stomach. “What does that feel like? Wandering the web like that? And what were you looking for in that leaf? Who is Lazuli?”

The news of her pavilion had fanned a new bout of energy in Arandia, and her mouth ran away with her again. Question after question, sixteen years a child and only one season a woman.

* * *

Later on, Arandia insisted on helping Belkaia with Kyanite on to the horse, instead of Dravite. “It’s best not to aggravate your condition like that anymore,” Arandia chided when Dravite looked like he would argue. Then again, Dravite always looked like he would argue. “We’re almost there. I can smell the roast already, can’t you?”

When they finally reached the Wind-Knotted Gates of Endrykas, Arandia repeated her chorus of: “All three of you should get yourselves to the medicine tents. I know the doctor, I’ll take you there. They have Rak’keli healers, too, they’d be able to heal your bones very quickly I bet.”

.
.
.

by **Dravite** on June 14th, 2015, 10:46 pm

He smiled something playful and warm, like a father to a son who wanted to know too much. Dravite woke his wife gently and took his son. “No, my love,” Belkaia cooed as he moved to picked the boy up, “Let Arandia help me.”

The horse lord paused, let go of his son and went to his Strider. The women spoke at his back together in hushed tones; Belkaia had said something he couldn’t quite make out. A breathless groan saw him up and on the horse, upright and ready to leave, having taken nothing out of his saddlebags to slow things down. Cree yawned and slowly lifted his head. From the Strider’s back he watched the woman, Belkaia getting onto her horse first before Arandia held Kyanite up to her. Once the Reddawn girl was on her horse they set off, Belkaia racing ahead as usual, with Dravite and their newfound friend keeping a good pace behind her.

“Lazuli Morningsong,” Dravite told Arandia, “Is my mother, a healer from the Opal Clan; she taught me all I know about the poisonous plants to be found across the plain.”

He looked back over his left shoulder to the large Nabato oak that looked no bigger than a small sapling now. “That’s what I was doing with the leaf, checking to make sure it wasn’t poisonous.”

He explained everything he knew about telling a dangerous plant from a harmless one, about the white berries and the leaves in sets of three, the seed-pods, smells, and bitter tastes. The two of them talked with relative ease for a time, though Dravite never revealed his mother’s passing, or that they had been cast away from their pavilion; no doubt Belkaia had already said as much, for Arandia did not ask again. He did, however, tell her how he had broken his rib. “It was stupid really, I wasn’t holding my spear properly and the weight of the bear saw it all happen so quickly, there was no time to roll out of the way.

● ● ●

When they reached the Wind-Knotted Gates of Endrykas, they rode on until they came to a small, empty plot within the Diamond Clan’s domain. Belkaia made quick work of setting up camp, which was not more than the Grass-Bear hide rolled out on the plot over a tarp, with a blanket on top of that. They didn’t mind roughing it for one more night now that they had reached the safety of the city of tents.

“All three of you should get yourselves to the medicine tents,” Arandia insisted.

Dravite looked to the horizon; the sun had almost set now, the sky awash with red, blue, orange, and gold. He was too sore to make the trip on foot, and he couldn’t face getting back on the horse in search of the medicine tents. Belkaia seemed to recognise his lack of enthusiasm for the idea and smiled up at Arandia. “First thing in the morning,” she promised the girl, “He won’t get breakfast otherwise.”

The man managed a smile and sat down on top of the blankets and hides they had accumulated throughout the spring. Kyanite wandered over to him and fell into the man’s embrace; a bear hugging his cub. The two lay side by side, burly fingers combed through the mop of wheat coloured hair on the boy’s head. Belkaia got to her feet; she would unpack the horses soon and let them graze the grass around their camp. Her delicate hands and long, tapered fingers closed over Arandia’s. “You’ll come and visit won’t you?” She beamed up at the girl on the horse, golden-brown eyes the colour of cooked-honey searching those of the stranger’s, “you’re welcome here any time.”

Her husband grunted from the make-shift bed at her back and Belkaia offered Arandia a small, apologetic smile. “You best get going; I’m sure your pavilion misses you and your wonderful stories very much.”

Belkaia kissed the top of Arandia’s right hand and squeezed her palm gently before standing back to see her off with a wave. Dravite sat up on top of the covers and raised his hand, “Safe travels, Reddawn.” .
.
.

by **Arandia** on June 14th, 2015, 11:53 pm

.
.

Belkaia kissed Arandia’s hand and heaped praise on her, and it embarrassed Arandia, but also stirred something like pride in her gut. She wanted to help them some more: offer them her tent, maybe, which was already too big for her. It could fit four people, after all, they wouldn’t be cramped---

Arandia checked herself. She smiled, she raised her hand to say goodbye. “Be well, Blackwater,” she said, and left.

Beloved cantered through Endrykas, tossing his head gaily at the commotion of the tent city. They rode on until the Ruby District, and until they found their pavilion. There Arandia walked on foot, and was greeted by Dakarai at the tarp for the Semes. “There you are. You left your bags on your horse,” he said, sounding irritated. “We had to put all of your things away. Where have you been?”

“But what about--didn’t you---” Arandia trailed away, and allowed Dakarai to point her to where her things were all stacked. The tent had not been set up. Not even a tarp for Karnia. The sun was already threatening to set. Arandia would have to work doubly fast to have shelter for the evening.

Her back groaned, hurting from riding the whole day. But she set up the tent, and she set up the tarp, and she left the rest of the unpacking for an early day tomorrow, because she had to run and help Sarai with the cooking.

In the evening, at dinner, Teke smiled at her. “Did you find--”
Arandia cut him off, dropping the pot in his arms. He struggled to catch it.
“And the blanket?” he asked.
“Blown away by the wind,” she snapped.
“What! That’s impossible. Where is it? My wife will be furious!”
“That’s not my problem.” Arandia smiled at him. Teke glared, livid, as if he were about to strike Arandia. But after a moment all that he did was shake his head and begin to walk away.

“It’s a shame I couldn’t find your blanket,” Arandia called, making Teke pause in his tracks. “Looks like you’ll be needing it tonight.”

.
.
.

by **Caesarion** on July 31st, 2015, 6:11 am

Grades, my darling, grades

Arandia :

Dravite :

Notes :

If you have concerns, questions or praise (inmydreams;_;) for your grade, drop me a PM and we'll do a number!

Skill	XP Earned
Singing	1 XP
Composition	1 XP
Socialization	3 XP
Riding	5 XP
Observation	5 XP
Investigation	2 XP
Animal Husbandry	2 XP
Interrogation	1 XP
Weapon: Dagger	1 XP
Medicine	4 XP
Herbalism	3 XP
Sewing	1 XP
Rhetoric	1 XP
Storytelling	2 XP
Wilderness Survival	2 XP

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	5 XP
Riding	5 XP
Poison	1 XP
Teaching	1 XP
Endurance	2 XP
Animal Husbandry	3 XP
Socialization	3 XP
Wilderness Survival	3 XP
Investigation	4 XP
Intimidation	2 XP
Tracking	1 XP
Webbing	2 XP
Herbalism	1 XP
Land Navigation	2 XP
Deduction	1 XP
Weapon: Spear	2 XP

PM to join Whither is thy Beloved gone? (Dravite)