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[Naiya]

Summer - Day 6 - 516 AV
Early Evening

She was puttering. trying to fill time, to chase away the thoughts that had been pushed back by the action of the days prior. Khida's return had brought back an overwhelming sense of their shared loss, but they'd had little time to wallow in such things. First they'd had to pack and move with the city, then they'd had to unpack and settle into the new grounds. Now there was just the end of the day, hollow for the lack of returning hunter to press them forward.

She had fussed about cleaning up dinner, then making tea. Something had called Seirei's attention, so she had moved off to do things of her own. Work was done for the evening, the store closed up tight, the animals milked and groomed. There was little more to be done in the fading touches of Syna's rays. It left Naiya to be as she was, pregnant and strangely lonely as the others busied themselves with evening tasks of their own.

She gathered things, knowing that once she sat she would be hard pressed to get back up. A comb for her hair, a mug of tea, a cushion to sit on. She placed them each beside the fire, moving about gathering them all as though each task held great importance. She grabbed ribbon next, one she had purchased long ago, and thread and a needle to help put it into place.

Naiya settled herself down beside the fire, her belly making the process more difficult than usual. She clutched a mug of tea in tight hands, hoping the soothing medicine of the lavender would help to chase away the ache that ripped at her heart. It was their first settled evening since Khida returned, warm enough to make work sluggish after the cool of the days prior.

She sipped her tea, imagining the lavender washed away her tension and sorrow with each sip she took. Her task for the evening was a simple one, she wanted to honor the changes in her life, and renew her memories of the past.

The past seasons had added a number of decorations to her hair and flesh, both good ones and bad ones. Each a reminder of what had shaped the person she was now. Some were permanent, some less so. Wraps were the focus today, as she began to remove them from her wild mass of hair.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

Old habits, it seemed, reasserted themselves quickly. Khida had hardly been back any time at all, yet her hands knew the wagon, knew the tent, knew the habitual places of their bundles and baggage in either; she had fallen into the rhythm of Endrykas' motion as if she had never been parted from it, aiding their wife and sister in the unpacking of their camp as necessity required. Motion was a boon. Motion focused her attention on the present around her, gave her hands something to occupy themselves with, made her body grumble in its silent way at having become unaccustomed to the demands of such strictly human tasks.

When motion ceased, the silence came... and this silence, Khida was coming to recognize, was not the silence that wrapped itself about them like a sleeping fur, warm and comfortable and soothing. It was a silence of holes and gaps, a silence of absence rather than unity, a silence filled with the ghosts of what had been. It was a silence the three of them shared, yet one whose edges and voids were not mellowed by that sharing; rather, they were cast in even sharper relief, for the very same habits that moved her body expected him around every corner, behind every rustle of the surrounding grass. At any moment now, he would emerge from the cover of the stalks, slain quarry in hand to skin and toss in the stewpot -- or perhaps he would step out of the tent to sit beside the fire with javelins and whetstone, saying everything that was needed without a single verbalized word.

Of course, he did not, and that hollow silence which was not just silence reigned.

Bereft of any other tasks which needed attention now, unmotivated to foray out for quarry against the day's fading light, Khida found herself drifting towards the warmth of the firepit. She sank to her knees a short distance from their wife, near enough to touch hands but not so close that she might intrude on the woman's activities... or the space her distended belly required. Her fingers stretched out towards the warmth of the flames, not so much because they were chilled as simply because it was there. The fire danced, amber and orange tongues unpredictable and mesmerizing in their flickering sway...

...though within a few ticks, the Kelvic's gaze drew itself up, following the trail of smoke where it rose from the ground, at last settling upon the woman she sat beside. Foal, her hands shaped between them; while child was a term she heard often enough to recognize, it was the word she'd learned first that came easiest to mind and fingers. Foal, when, query.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

She paused, a braid half unraveled and left to hang as amusement colored her posture, Foal, wuepa, soon she answered, her hands faltering and her amusement fading as she considered the time line. Near season end. She didn't have to point out that their husband would miss the birth of his child, for his absence hung between them as prominent as the setting sun.

"I am glad you will be here, Khida," she confided to her wife, her hands returning to their work as she picked apart the tight weave of the braid that she had left to hang half undone. "I was worried that I wouldn't be able to take care of everyone, more so when I found out about my pregnancy." She ran her fingers through her red mane, seeking the satin touch of the ribbon that hung alone, the braid that she'd cut off to make the band she had gifted to Shahar. The ribbon was easily found, but unwinding the short bit of hair was more challenging.

"It is a great reassurance to know that you are here, safe." She abandoned the braid, frustrated with her fumbling. She turned to another instead, the soft brown leather woven through the braid unwinding just as easily as the braid.

She set the leather aside with her other tools and adornments, picking up her mug to soothe the frayed nerves, sitting together around the fire, it felt incomplete. She expected Shahar to step out of the pavilion or come from the herd and join them, Snow trotting happily at his side.

"Do you want some tea? I can fetch you a mug?" her hands clutched tightly at the cup she held, trying to chase away the sadness she felt. Her free hand searched the air for the right word, plucking at signs half formed and discarding them just as quickly sorrow the only coherent shape. Shahar was missing, absence, hollow she was searching for the words that she lacked, trying to connect with Khida, explain the feelings that weighed on her heart.

Distance, unwanted she tried to explain, still lacking the right words. Her hands fluttered a frustrated dance before settling back to fiddling with her hair, trying once more to undo the braid that eluded her fingers.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

The warmth of humor tinged their wife's manner and tone; it gladdened Khida to see, although she didn't quite follow what had caused her amusement. It didn't matter. What mattered was the moment of good cheer, however brief and fleeting. Their wife went on to use a word Khida didn't recognize; normally, Khida would have let it pass, let the fondness and relief of the woman's tone imply what understanding she needed. But in this moment, in the emptiness they shared, she sensed a gravity that demanded comprehension. "Is great," she echoed, signing query in place of the word that had followed, the one she didn't know.

Their wife offered her tea; Khida might have refused the pungent lavender, a taste for which she had yet to acquire -- but the tension in Naiya's shoulders, the fitful fretting of her free hand, struck a sympathetic chord. Even if distance and unwanted were the only truly clear terms the Kelvic followed, the overall message was unmistakable. Yes, drink, she affirmed. Sitting together, drinking tea together, this solidarity of being and action was all the balm Khida could readily offer their wife against the emptiness in their lives, but she offered it freely and without hesitation.

Distance, Khida found her own hands echoing a moment later. She turned her head to glance towards the west, towards the horizon gathering color in its scattered clouds, the sky gone pale behind them. Unwanted. For several breaths of quiescent silence Khida reached into that distance, taking what comfort she could from the vibrance of their bond. He lived yet. He would return.

Water, her fingers added into the conversation, as the Kelvic's attention returned to her outward present. Distance, large. Apology, they added, and Khida could not have said whether the apology was meant towards Naiya, towards herself... or towards the man who remained beyond both their reach. Go back, go home, say, she continued, an abrupt spill of gestures from her fingers, their motions charged with frustration and unhappiness.

Go home, her hands stabbed emphatically into the gathering night, the Kelvic's lips pressed into a thin line above them; not a line of anger, despite the fierce energy of her signs, but the same shared sorrow that had earlier found expression in Naiya's fitfulness. Go where, query. Not here, not here, gone away.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

Her fussing paused, fingers having finally unraveled the stub of hair at the top of her head. "Reassurance" She signed the word again, careful to shape it clearly without inflection. Naiya found it easy to forget that despite Khida's seeming fluency in Pavi, with her grasp of sign so impressive, she was still learning. Did she know a common word for that? She took only a tick to consider, the answer was no. "Reassurance is also reassure... it means to bring relief from fear or doubts, worries." She wasn't sure that her explanation was the best, but she let it sit in the air between them for a while.

With a task to accomplish, Naiya was able to push aside her feeling of distance what better way to be close to someone than to do something for them, to show them your affection through action. She had to press herself up with her hands, the ballooning of her stomach keeping her from bending much. When she was off the ground she half turned to get her legs beneath her more securely.

Then she was able to do again, moving to gather a mug and the little basket of herbs. She brought both back to her wife, offering the basket to her so that she could choose, "They taste how they smell," she told Khida, hoping that action would soothe Khida as it did herself.

She poured hot water into the mug, a cloth scrap protecting her hand from the hot metal. She set it back beside the flame, the open top silencing it's shrill protest that it was already hot. She returned to her wife with the mug, catching the signs that mirrored her own. She set the cup beside her, settling back into her seat.

At first the string of signs made little sense to Naiya, Khida's apology less so. Go back, go home Khida's hands moved with power, and Naiya realized she referred to the pirates, to her chase of their husband across the ocean.

She reached across the space between them, too far away to reach her wife, too far to stop the stabbing of her hands into the air. Family here, her response was firm, but shaped with the same sadness, here too, she touched the mark of Cheva on her neck, the one they, all three of them, shared.

She slowed, her hands losing their surety. Not same, not.. him. Not Shahar, she knew that the bond between Khida and Shahar was different, more, but his absence was still something they shared. Not same, apology she echoed the signs with shared sorrow, comfort laced beneath their meaning.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

Their wife offered other words which Khida didn't fully understand; but the silence which hung between them let her put together the ones she did. Fear, she recognized, and worry, and from. Their context let her at least put the significance of reassurance on the metaphorical map: it had something to do with soothing concerns. Khida nodded slightly, that the woman might know she understood.
Naiya went on to heft herself up to her feet, a process made difficult by the swell of her belly. She returned with herbs -- not simply lavender, but a selection for Khida to choose from. The Kelvic accepted the basket, dipping her head to sniff at the mélange of herbs within; their commingled fragrance was strong, but not entirely unpleasant despite that. Picking one out from amongst all the smelly things wasn't the easiest choice for Khida, and she postponed it in favor of watching the Drykas woman prepare water instead.

After setting her cup aside, their wife offered signs the Kelvic followed readily; family, not same, apology, sorrow. In echo of Naiya' s action, Khida touched her own Chevas mark, a mark that was almost easy for her to forget, for all that wife was the fundamental definition of their relationship. Wife did not define the Kelvic to herself. Family, here, Khida echoed, family, wait, all together.

Home, she could not bring herself to complete, for all that she had resolved it to mean here, in this pavilion, with these people. The keystone of that concept remained a void; and so she let it pass buy, picking at the herbs, taking up first one and then another to smell more closely. Ultimately, Khida selected one that looked like some kind of mint, but had the scent of... something she couldn't quite put a name to. Something warmer, more like sunshine than the coolness she associated with mints.

Khida scooted herself across the distance separating her from Naiya, offering their wife both the basket and the sprig she had selected. She let the Drykas set up the tea to her own satisfaction, leaning companionably against the woman's side in another sort of comfort shared. She folded the fingers of both hands around the mug when it was provided, eyes hooded as she settled in to watch the flames dance, her thoughts as quiescent as the evening around them. Steam from the tea tickled her nostrils, faintly astringent with the added herb.

In time, one hand worked its way back free, the better to bespeak the woman beside her. "Drykas" family, she mused, stitching together words and sign into something half question, half pensive thought. Each fragment came at its own pace, unhurried. "Rue," family very many. All place family many. "Drykas... Drykas" family is, query?

Khida wasn't even fully sure of what she was trying to ask, never mind whether she had articulated it at all well. Abstract topics were difficult enough even before the language divide...

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

She settled back beside her wife, placing the cup just in reach for after she sat. She was careful, like her every move must be delicate. It was as if she might break their fragile company.

Khida closed the space between them, in a way that Naiya wouldn't have been sure the other woman was comfortable with if it hadn't been she who had chosen it. Aside from that initial thought, Naiya was simply pleased to be near to her. When handed the sprig she softly bruised the leaves between her fingers and then stirred the plant around in the water.

She passed the cup back in silence, no desire to break the peace of the moment. Being this close, it was different, and it was something she had needed. Seirei was here, was near, but she was not a wife, not missing Shahar in the same way. In the way only a wife could, and she could not offer comfort in the same way.

She soaked in the moment, letting it soothe her as she sipped at her tea and watched the shifting shapes of the fire play across the spill of Khida's hair. When the other woman spoke, it came slowly. Words befitting the pace of the evening. Family formed the base of her thoughts, stretching along lines of connection to Naiya's own family, the one she had happily departed from to join this family. Broken as it now was, it was still a better family, even if the absence of their ankal was one that ached in each hollow drum of her heartbeat.

Family "for Drykas is...." she searched for the words her tea forgotten beside her as her hands sifted through half thoughts and explanations. Husband wives, these were firm, then lighter less sure two, three, more She rested her head against the woman's shoulder, as her hands signed once again with greater emphasis more. Her hands slowed, seeking again the words, how to explain. Children, foal, many as can, "Saiza, ferto, all" included.

That explained the size, the words of her question, but there was surely more behind the inquiry. Family was more than it's parts, more than the people that made it up. "Drykas" family, is made of people "Like twigs in a nest." A smile grew across her cheeks, as the words that found her were ones the falcon in her wife could understand. Many twigs... feathers, all parts to make a.... "useful whole." She watched the fire dance, thinking again.

... all people of family make the nest... useful together. Clan is part too, if nest falls apart, clan helps.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Khida]

Their wife leaned back into her, each at once supporting and supported by the other. That half-acknowledged state dovetailed neatly with the responses their wife returned to Khida's query, slow though they were to come together. She gave simple gestures, words for relationships Khida knew well enough -- husband, wife, child, more. Saiza, she knew for their address to Seirei; ferto, the Kelvic didn't immediately recognize, but in context its significance was easy enough to infer.

The second half of their wife's explanation... was a little more abtruse, but had enough words Khida knew strung through the statements that it, too, coalesced into at least some meaning. Twig was something their sister worked with; nest gave it context: small wood. Small wood and feathers, family in a nest. Or made a nest. Together, whole, of use. Words for the bond, and a word that Khida best associated with tools, things not broken, things that could be employed effectively.

Khida took in their wife's explanation, sipping intermittently at her tea while mulling her conclusions over in her mind. Family, for the Drykas, was not just kinship, but a... tool?... a useful thing, a working thing. If it was like a nest, then it was shelter and protection, security. That jived well with the understanding she had been groping towards -- truth be told, was still groping towards, building a figurative nest one piece of information at a time.

Their wife at least offered a whole section of 'nest' for her to slot into place all at once.

One phrase caught in Khida's mind, accurate reflection of their family's current situation. Many foal, her hands echoed, mug set aside to permit resumed discussion in the mode the Kelvic habitually preferred. The phrase brought to mind an image out of context, the recollection of a woman who had been shocked, aghast even, at Khida's own childless state. It had held no import for her at the time, but their wife's words cast a slightly different light on the sentiment. Though Naiya herself had never seemed concerned, at least not in a way Khida ever noticed...

Many foal wanted. Many is, query? Wife, foal soon. Saiza, foal many. Another, accounted for Taerin's child. The signs came slowly, no faster than the pace of Khida's ambling thoughts. Her manner remained that of simple curiosity, working towards a better understanding of the culture that was now her own. Foal enough? "Nest" enough, query?

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi