Dry Eyes (Self-Mod/Open-- Depending)

[Malia]

She watched as her opponent seemed to process what she had just said. Odd how he seemed to ponder over everything she said as if it got a special meaning to him just after she had voiced it. Odd how he took everything so seriously. She had found a good conversational partner and she really appreciated that. Thanks to him – and Tanroa – Malia had rediscovered the value of thinking pauses in dialog.

Then he ended the pause by releasing a barely audible melody in the air. She didn’t immediately recognize the fact that he was singing, rather she realized that his lips were moving and then struggled to understand the words he produced.

It was beautiful, a stanza full of naked truth clad in melancholic poetry. When it ended, Malia couldn’t think of appropriate words to compliment it, instead she watched the sand running through his fingers, could almost feel the soft, yet rough structure touching skin and the little black fingertips. She felt reminded of the endless passing of time, but also of the fact that every illusion finally showed the truth behind it. Eventually the sand would fade and reveal what lay underneath – destruction, or worse.

Their gazes met when Eshatoh spoke, explaining what he had just sung and then … going one step ahead. Oh no, certainly not. But he knew what he spoke of which made Malia sympathize with him quite a bit.

Tilting her head she replied: “Yes, it’s even more beautiful in my opinion. There’s something special about natural beauty – it differs from the kind of beauty that is shaped by civilization.” At that moment she felt somehow connected to Eshatoh, and not because he was Chaktawe, but because they shared similar beliefs.

After a short pause Malia was the one who spoke: “Please tell me, do you have any goals in life? Anything you desperately want to achieve? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m curious.” She considered how much she could tell him, but then simply shrugged the concerns off. They were in Eyktol, after all, the ghosts and names haunting her wouldn’t be so crazy as to search the desert for her, right? “I … I have been given such a goal. Revenge for my family, I’ll do everything for that.”

Perhaps it seemed strange that one of the undead, isolated Nuit still thought about their family, but Malia had been given a priceless gift. The past was valuable to her.

[Eshatoh]

She hadn't understood the comment he had made on the desert's danger, but then people rarely understood him. Not intuitively, anyways. What she said was true, of course, but it didn't go as deep as his thoughts. Then again, her level of knowledge on the desert was probably roughly equivalent to his own knowledge of this undead Nuit race Malia was a part of or even the rest of the world in general. In both areas, his expertise was basically nonexistent.

Strangely, though, in that moment, Eshatoh felt a little, just a little, bit of affection for Malia. Maybe it was for her naive lack of understanding of the desert and its requirements for survival, something he himself had never gotten a chance to experience; maybe it was for the way she sat so motionless, perfectly content just to listen to what he said and understand-- understanding, that was the important part. Probably it was a combination of both factors. The important part was that he really hadn't felt a connection with another living being since the day his parents died.

It was a feeling that he really had no clue what to do with, so when Malia implied that her family had been killed, Eshatoh flinched and sharply inhaled. And then words poured out of him, all in a rush. "In this... In this at least, I think I can claim more knowledge than you." He stopped to take a breath. Malia had asked him a question, but it didn't seem important at the moment.

"This desert-- it was the result of revenge. Ivak... Well, you know that story. But this land before Ivak's revenge was, if not exactly verdant, at least livable. Since the Valterrian, it is, well, it's death.

"Maybe its because of the desecration around us, but the Chaktawe oppose every vestige of retribution on principle. We know that it only harms everybody."

Without thinking, he had raised himself up onto the balls of his feet as he spoke, and now he settled down again and spoke to her question. "As for my goals, I just want to leave the desert-- run away. That's all."

The wind blew through his hair, let down loose when he had attempted to go to bed. To the pair beneath the tree, it carried an absolute stillness from the camp. Dawn was fast approaching. A golden glint already ran across the horizon. But Eshatoh was in no hurry. He knew from experience that he was completely capable of operating on little to no sleep. Besides, most of today would be spent on recovery from last night, anyways, and to top it all off, he liked this girl; he really did.

[Malia]

Malia’s fingers folded in anticipation when hearing the bit of advice Eshatoh gave her. He claimed that he knew more about that matter, but in fact it was much more complicated than he thought. Malia’s family hadn’t simply been killed. That had been something else: being killed smoothly and quickly, without any pain or regret. But Malia’s case was different. Firstly, people had been hurt to the core and a single action had resulted in a series of irreversible mistakes. Secondly, she knew her enemy. Even without him having messed up her life there would be enough reasons for revenge.

Of course, Malia didn’t intend to explain all that to that lonely Chaktawe in the desert; instead she simply listened to what he had to say. Ivak … His opinion was logical. In theory she already knew that she followed a damned path. Her task could be compared to walking on eggs – She had to find the most effective technique without causing them to explode and take her to the point of no return. Yet she couldn’t stop doing what she did.

All she did was pressing her lips together and nodding. “It doesn’t make any sense. But I can’t stop now. It will only get worse either way, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.” It was an attempt to at least partly explain why she was still continuing. She couldn’t forget – there it was again, the blessing and the curse.

Then she blinked. The Chaktawe desired to leave the desert? Compared to hers, it certainly was an easy goal, although she sensed that there was more about it. If it wasn’t, they wouldn’t be under that tree, next to that camp on that particular night. The way he put it struck her as oddly important. She raised a pale arm and a long index finger pointed towards his chest. “Then why are you still here? Why don’t you run away, if that really is what you want?” Leaning back, she waited for the dust she hoped to stir up.

[Eshatoh]

With lips firmly pressed together, Malia said, "It doesn’t make any sense. But I can’t stop now. It will only get worse either way, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.” With those words, the sadness gripped Eshatoh again. As if to match his mood, the wind shrieked a keening tone as a sudden gust blew over.


He almost said something further, but instead decided to let the damned damn themselves. Everything mattered. It was a fact as obvious as a traveler in the burning lands. It could very well be that no choices were left to Malia which would bring about a positive conclusion. But there was no way that the choices left to her would bring about the same conclusion.

Basically, it was Eshatoh's opinion that Malia was being bull-headed and stupid. So to her question he replied in a clipped curt voice, "I'm not a man. By the tribe's standard, if I ran away, they would still be responsible for me. Within 48 hours I would be dragged back here by the scruff of my neck. Once I undertake the Searching, though, then I can leave."

It was a chance he yearned for with every flake of blood and speck of sand that composed him. The desert was death, and what could one do against death except run from it?

Dropping back into the role of host, Eshatoh stood. In the distance, the sound of drums boomed. "It sounds as if some of my people are still awake and singing... and telling stories." He made a vague gesture towards the camp and gave an ambiguous smile. "Will you come with me and listen?"

[Malia]

It seemed as if Eshatoh wanted to reply, but then he didn’t. As a consequence Malia felt something strange, but tried to suppress it. There was no need for feelings now. No need for sadness or weakness or anything that would only turn out to be an obstacle at the path she had chosen for herself. Her goal was a part of her search for sense. Nobody would take it from her. Not Eshatoh, and nobody else.

Then he took up her provocative question, but answered in a different voice than she had expected. Not a man. Oh, she knew enough about nomadic tribe society to understand that the Searching was some kind of ritual at the edge between youth and manhood. She had always found it practical – after all, it really was, knowing when one had to take responsibility for oneself. It was then that she noticed the other side of such a ritual. Her thoughts, however, she kept to herself. Instead she merely asked: “Why is it called the Searching?” Did the tribe intend to search him or send him off to search for something else? Foreign customs intrigued Malia, but at the same time she felt the urge to find a solution for Eshatoh’s problem. Now that he had clearly outlined what he wanted and why he couldn’t have it, she knew that there had to be a solution. It was a simple problem, not like the search for one’s personal sense in life.

Suddenly the distant booming of drums reached her ears, followed by the Chaktawe’s ambiguous expression and words. Malia wondered how long she would be supposed to stay if she came with him, how the other Chaktawe would look at her and treat her. If she could fit in with the crowd. His invitation sounded like a challenge – to her as a traveler, that is –, yet there was something holding her back. “… listen?”, she repeated, barely audible hesitation echoing in her voice.

For a while she sat there, staring at the sand between her feet, and thought about it. The night wasn’t young anymore. Shouldn’t she continue wandering and look for shelter for the hot day? Her skin already was in a bad condition, and she couldn’t stand sweat at all. Was it worth that? On the other hand, maybe she was being silly. The event wouldn’t last longer than the remaining night, an insignificant time span.

She couldn’t miss the chance. Raising to her feet and cleaning her clothes, she nodded. “If nobody is disturbed by my presence, I will accept your invitation.” After grabbing her backpack, she waited for him to lead her into the camp.

[Eshatoh]

OOCFound enough time to scribble this out. Enjoy, and feel free to find some excuse to bring this thread to an end anytime you like. On the other hand, we could just continue with me popping in every few weeks when I have time.


Quickly, almost carelessly, Eshatoh grabbed Malia's hand and pulled her in the direction of the camp. She seemed to need some kind of push. In a forced gay voice he said, "Come on, most of them will be drunk or half-asleep by now. Travelers in the desert are uncommon but by no means unheard of, and we welcome all. In fact, the tribe will most likely spend most of today sleeping. We have some extra tents if you need... Oh... You probably don't need to sleep, either."

The idea kind of brought an awkward stop to his train of thought. He was chatting at four or five in the morning with an undead zombie. The whole night had been more than a little surreal. The wind caught up the sound of voices and laughter from the camp and carried them to the ears of Eshatoh and Malia. It formed a sobering backdrop to the soft sound of footfalls in the sand. He dropped her hand.

There was one reason and one reason only that he was dragging her along: There was a woman in the camp-- a grandmother figure to every one of the girls Eshatoh knew. She had sent more than a few of her proteges to flirt with him and had even tried to draw him out of his silence herself once or twice. Needless to say, Eshatoh didn't particularly like her, but if anyone could show this woman the pitfalls of revenge, it would be her.

Eshatoh began speaking again, his voice a scratchy abrasive against the silken night air. "The Searching. The Searching is said to be when we try to find god, but the god or goddess instead finds us. Honestly the kids who go through it are told very little before the day itself arrives. What I do know is that I am to banished from the tribe, cast out from everything I know. In solitude, I'll supposedly find him or he me, and then he'll give me a "guardian spirit," some sort of nonphysical representation of his care for me. Let me tell you that if I do meet a god, he'll be receiving a few choice words."

They were now in and among the tents. From one resounded a loud jagged snore, but most remained silent. Almost all sound was concentrated in a vibrant core near the center of the camp. The light and warmth of many fires drew the odd pair onwards.

[Malia]

She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected the hot hand urging her to raise and stumble after him. A low sound escaped her lips and a second later she frowned, as if disapproving of her own surprise. But of course she wanted to suppress her surprise, to avoid any feelings that could only hurt her and be in her way! That fact was so logical … yet Malia couldn’t help but avoid it from time to time just as she tried to avoid the exact opposite the rest of the time.

After the initial shock – and pleasant sensation – of feeling living, warm skin against her skin she followed Eshatoh with as much grace as she could muster. But suddenly he dropped her hand. Although he had spoken in a slightly uncomfortable, but still cheerful and inviting voice before, his attitude changed completely now. Well, what had she expected anyway? Sooner or later everyone felt the barrier that existed between the living and the undead, like a cold, smooth ice wall. Nobody, nothing could transcend it. Except for perhaps Tanroa Herself, Uldr and a few other deities, but of course gods didn’t count when it came to the material world. And there Malia was caught.

“No, I don’t sleep”, she eventually confirmed. Not even knowing why she had bothered to reply, she simply took step after step and walked past Eshatoh in a constant, quiet pace. After a while she turned around and waited if he would follow. “Come?” Pouring from her bloodless lips, the words sounded monotone and meaningless, yet some remain of emotion lingered in the air between them.

Picking at a black hair strand, Malia listened to his explanation of the Searching. So it was some kind of ceremony at the border to adulthood. Indeed, she had heard about and experienced such rituals in many rural or nomadic communities. While wandering around with her ‘Master’ … she had learned many things about the people they visited.

She had learned to fit in.

So when they approached the area between the various tents Malia didn’t feel as awkward or nervous as she would have, had she experienced that situation for the first time. Many times her ‘Master’ had fooled humans into trusting him – and her along the way. Now Malia knew how it felt to do so. Deceiving the living willingly, pretending to become one of them by joining their activities in order to make what they called “friends”. For Malia, however, it was a matter of fact that she didn’t have “friends”. Acquaintances, yes, but no “friends”.

Still she couldn’t deny that exciting prickle of emotion, of joy and laughter and epic stories told by the campfire that the others radiated. Maybe she would learn something useful out of this, she told herself. However, the truth was so obvious that she had to drown it with that other thought: Fun.

Oh, and fun she had, together with Eshatoh and Benshira and even other Chaktawe. A whole new world she entered …

And as always she left before the golden rays of Syna could destroy the magic of the night. A very, very little part of her hoped that Eshatoh would remember her as a confusing, but interesting dream leaving him far too soon. A very little part … that would survive the next few days and live in Malia’s memory forever.

OOCI'd prefer to end it here, since I think there's nothing left to say (I'll ask for xp). Thank you very much for this thread! I enjoyed it greatly and it almost hurts to finish it so quickly ... but please PM me if you happen to have more time in the future, so our PCs can maybe develop a more lasting relationship!

[Colombina]

The XP Wand Is Waved! What a great introspective thread. You two managed to fit in a lot of conversation about culture and the desert and were faithful to the concept that many things are not general knowledge. I think Esh is not very active anymore, which makes me sad, as this would have been an interesting pair to watch. Kudos to you both. Eshatoh's Loot Lore of Nuit abilities Lore of common greetings Lore of Ahnatep aesthetics Lore of Syliras aesthetics 3 XP in flute 2 XP in storytelling Malia's Loot Lore of Chaktawe greeting customs Lore of Chaktawe Music Lore of Chkatawe Suli tribe Lore of Ahnatep aesthetics Lore of Chaktawe Searching 2 XP Interrogation 2 XP Investigation Colombina is pleased...