Closed Dem Bones

[Azmere]

49th of Winter 516
5th Bell

Azmere spent the better part of his evening contemplating what he had been told. Sleep was intermittent at best but the lack of exertion from being still served enough to allow him time to recover and prepare. The scarred ankal stirred from his bed before Syna had broken through with her radiant beams. The archer moved slowly in morning. It was one of the reasons he had conditioned his body to waking up so early; it allowed for time to wake up and get ready for the day. Despite his strange orders, today would be no different.

The watchman stood up and walked through the darkness in a few practiced steps to a pile of clothes. His strong hands blindly fumbled through the items separating the few things that needed to be put on first. Shirt, breeches and boots were easy. The chestpiece and bracers were a little trickier but it was a task that one made time for out of necessity. Once Azmere was suited and booted, he gathered his rucksack which was loaded with some rations of food, basic survival supplies, lots of water and extra arrows. He took hold of his belt, bow and club as well then meandered towards the main flap. When he got to the edge, he turned and looked back at the dividers that separated his people; his family. He whispered a prayer to Zulrav and Yahal for their guidance and protection. Grey had been watching the whole time but now rose with a big stretch and followed his master.

Azmere slipped out of the big canvas tent and meandered his way by the dim skies to a soft patch of shorter grasses. He set down all of his gear then interlocked his fingers. The man extended his arms out in front of him and rolled his thumbs towards the ground which caused all of his knuckles to pop. The archer relaxed for a moment then spread his feet well beyond shoulder width. He shifted his hips to the right and bent at the waist. His bottom moved towards the ground while his right leg bent at the knee and his left leg remained straight. Azmere placed his palms flat on the ground and used his right arm to apply outward pressure to his right leg. This created a tight pulling sensation that ran along his thigh and into his groin. It also gave him the feeling like he was shaking off years of stiffness along his left hamstring. He held the pose for several ticks that he counted in his head.

Satisfied with the stretch, the man pushed up to stand then shifted his body in the same position but mirrored it to the left. Azmere relaxed into the stretch and felt his blood pumping though his body and loosening up his muscles. While Syna continued to approach and brighten the skies, the Luvanor hunter settled near his human’s face and licked the cheek of the Drykas. The third lap of the tongue caused the man to laugh which upset his balance and planted Azmere on his bum.

The archer shook his head and coiled his arms up by bringing his wrists in against his sides. In a rapid string of movements, Azmere shot out at the dog and tackled him by his neck to the ground. The pair resulted in a tangled mess of paws, leather, fur and growling. For several chimes, Azmere grabbed and lost hold of Grey’s legs and head. The animal was large and presented a decent challenge for the watchman especially on the ground. The Drykas was run over in an instant where Grey presented himself as the alpha but the wiser human rolled to the side and used his right arm to sweep the dog over with his momentum. The big canine tumbled and found himself pinned underneath the much larger human. Azmere wrapped his arms against Gery’s sides and held him for several minutes. He shushed the dog twice to help calm the attempts at freedom then clicked his tongue against his teeth. The pointed ears perked at the noise and when the archer rose, the dog popped up to all fours and looked about the immediate area. The animal crouched and froze with his curled tail held flat and ears pointed. The blue and gold gaze turned to see a lumbering shadow walking a big black horse up from the small incline next to the Stormblood pavilion.

Lodai. Azmere signed a greeting and snapped his fingers once then pointed at the ground. Grey relaxed then walked his hind legs up underneath his body then sat down. The ankal slapped his friend on the arm then went about the task of putting a blanket down on Skylla’s back and then his yvas. The man heaved up his plain leather seat and attached the bags. He then retrieved his gear and mounted the strider mare while his fellow watchman did the same.

Both men steered their horses from the pavilion’s somewhat secluded little pocket in the grass towards the heart of Endrykas. Azmere snapped his fingers twice and Grey rose to trot just off of Skylla’s hip never allowing himself to be too far from his master. Syna was beginning to reach the horizon as a sliver of pale yellow forced the Drykas to squint as they made their way along the Diamond spoke towards the Wind Knotted Gates. It only took a few ticks to reach their destination and no words were exchanged. Once the majestic beasts had reached the tall wooden poles adorned in thousands upon thousands of ribbons, Azmere cast his star-filled gaze about the awakening town.

A party of hunters was milling around outside the Spitfire with kills tied to sleds. It seemed that even despite the insane weather and horrible omens, the Drykas had enough skill to make their journey successful. A few older women walked along near the Tent of the Patrons. They talked softly and exchanged pieces of woven fabric. Azmere assumed the elderly bunch was discussing patterns and techniques. It was common for tradesmen of all crafts to talk of their gifts and talents so why would hobbies be any different? Grey circled Skylla and Atavan’s feet with the seasoned method of a canine who had spent some time around horses. A few children began to emerge from the Topaz spoke and from the looks of things they were with the massive group associated with Jonas Pridesun. The ankal had been on patrol repairing web lines when the confrontation had taken place. He was angry with Jonas for such ignorant statements but would not create conflict where there was no need. Azmere not only believed in the gods but he had met one; Yahal.

Lodai nudged his ankal with the hilt of his falx. The scarred man turned to see the brown eyes regarding him with a curious gaze. Azmere bent his fingers to question what his second wanted. Lodai responded with a simple question.

“Do you know who we are meeting?”

Azmere shrugged. “I don’t know how they’ll recognize us.” He signed last tick instruction.

Lodai snickered. “Everybody knows y-“ He stopped when the azure and amber scowl was cast his way. There was an awkward silence between the two men for several ticks. The horses didn’t flick their ears or swish their tails and Grey stopped his pacing…then Azmere smiled his crooked grin. He slapped Lodai in the chest and lifted his gaze. The big man rumbled a belly laugh and the world seemed to resume its normal cycle. Despite his light-hearted absorption of the comment, Azmere wondered what people thought of him. He did not care about the scars. He seemed to add more constantly. What he wanted to know was how people viewed him as an ankal. Did he come across as fair? Was he ridiculed for accepting those who were different? Was he scorned for refusing to acknowledge certain old ways of thinking? So many questions. Azmere squinted as Syna climbed higher. A haze had fallen over Endrykas and Stardown as the temperature began to climb rapidly. Today was going to be a hot one.

LadiesAt some point on the 48th, a member of the Watch will have informed you of your selection. Instructions would be basic and vague but you will know to meet Azmere or Lodai near the Gates by sunrise. I will dictate weather and plot-driving aspects but feel free to add in city life, wildlife, etc during the course of this thread. The web will reveal much to the PCs so feel free to embellish there as well.

[Khida]

One could grow accustomed to anything. Khida hadn't realized how much she'd come to accept her bondmate's absence as the new normal, not until the horizon ended in a crater veritably full of bones, macabre vision accompanied by a nearly palpable stench of death. She could not fathom what might have produced such a tableau -- bones stripped of flesh, sufficient to pave a crater which in better years hosted the people of Endrykas -- but the very idea of something that could chilled her blood and cast the Kelvic's vulnerability into starkest relief.

He was not here... and she was only half of herself without him.

She had remained on edge all that day and through the next, staying close to their family, choosing not to leave the city even to lay traps or otherwise hunt. Khida did not know what defense she might provide, or if it would even prove needed -- for all she knew, the perpetrator had long since left the area -- but she dared not risk being absent. The mood of the city seemed to reflect her disquiet, tension humming strongly through the air; the energy of the Drykas felt subdued, wary, concerned.

Anxiety fed into apprehension, into fear, flames fanned by the gossip which raced through the city the day after Endrykas had set its camp -- that Watchmen had gone missing while the city slept. Khida had not heard that herself, focused on the spectre of tangible threats as she had been, but word had filtered through their wife and the business of the shop, shared over the hearth after dinner... and not long after, visitors had come to their camp, singling Khida and their wife out for a brief conversation. Neither of these things had helped the Kelvic rest any easier; indeed, she had reverted to sleeping in feathers on the roof of their pavilion, drawing what security she could from the prospect of waking with wings and talons at the ready should anything disturb the Dawnwhispers in the night.

But when dawn approached, the Dawnwhisper camp remained as it had been after the Watchmen's departure -- occupied by its residents, all expected denizens accounted for, disturbed by nothing untoward. That should have been a relief, but their visitors had not stated plainly what she and their wife were needed for, not such that the Kelvic comprehended it all. That inclarity was anything but welcome, hovering in the wings of her thoughts throughout the eve and shadowing her dreams overnight. On the other hand, the prospect of doing something -- taking real action against the menace looming over their home -- vastly outweighed any reservation Khida might have had. She would go, and whatever good she might do, she would do wholeheartedly.

So it was that in the halflight for dawn, Khida girded herself for a mysterious expedition, dressing in tawny vest and brown trousers for what felt to be an extremely unwintry day, selecting what she might need to go somewhere unknown and do potentially risky things. Her archery gear, hunting knife, the bolas and spear she had just recently bought, those went in ready reach attached to Sephra's tack, the bow already strung in the event it became immediately needed. Flint and steel, rope, waterskin, and a measure of dried meat went in the Strider's yvas bags. So did her cloak and sash, more out of habit than expected need; the weight it added helped balance the horse's load, as well.

When they had both finished preparations, Khida mounted, and rode forth into the city. The atmosphere felt quiet, hushed, more so than for a normal dawn; not that either of the past two dawns had been normal. Her skin prickled with the feeling of being watched, though the Kelvic wasn't sure whether to ascribe it to some Drykas observing their progress or her own apprehensive nerves. They rode past the Amethyst tents down to the clearing at center, where stood the Conclave... and the Wind-Knotted Gates, where they were to meet... someone. Names meant little to the Kelvic without an actual person to attach them to, and not a whole lot even then. But the pair mounted beside the Gates, dog milling about their steeds' feet -- their collective manner spoke of watching, waiting, anticipating --

Clearly, those must be the people they were to meet.

A shift of her weight followed from Khida's focused attention; responding to the cue, Sephra ambled in the direction of the two men. One was... really quite large, seeming almost like he'd be more at home amongst the colored males of Riverfall. The second had strikingly mismatched eyes, one as blue as the sky, the other yellower even than her own; she nearly missed the scars next to the yellow one, so compelling was their dichotomy. Different, her hand shaped unheeding, the sign fuzzy in its lines; her manner made of it an observation only, not a question.

The Kelvic was forthright in her intrigued scrutiny of the man's visage, but there was only so much to see, and when that had been met, her attention moved on. Greeting, she signed to the men, this deliberate gesture clear and firm. But further niceties of introductions, or whatever words were needed for this situation, Khida had the luxury of deferring to their wife -- and defer them, she absolutely did.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Merevaika]

Merevaika

It was early. Perhaps too early, she couldn't tell, laying a rock against her bedroll. Perhaps too late for her to get ready, but she doubted that. Syna was not shining through the tent - only the lights of fires could be seen lightly peeping through the half open door. Heat brushed through, too, warning of a day hotter perhaps more than yesterday. Why had Morwen left them? Heat was for Summer, not for Winter, and this sort of heat was stifling to her, whose body had adjusted to survive in the colder days.

It took her half a bell to decide to rise. She didn't take long to get ready. Speed was something that came naturally to her, and that had then further been carved into her with all the times she had to. Loitering with the pointless tasks of getting dressed and gathering gear was a waste of time. Her hands were steady as she fumbled in the darkness, knowing where each of her possessions were. That was one positive of having little - everything could be tracked nicely.

She pulled her mossy green shirt on her, feeling the touch of cloth too heavy for what should have been Winter. Breeches and boots joined it, before she pulled the clump of hair, grown out from the rough cut from a year ago, into a low ponytail, barely four fingers long. It was rough, knotted, but not enough so she couldn't run her fingers through it, adjusting it slightly to rest against her back.

What did they want from her?

Beast had started growling. Deeply, more than what she normally did. Without thinking, her bow was in her hand, drawn back to her chin and pointed roughly, powerfully, at the intruders. Eyes stared down the shaft, the woman half-crouched with a viscous snarl on her face. Watchman. Chuckling at how her creature felt the same way about them as she did, she lowered the bow, making the knife at her belt clear. "What do you want?"

She found the bow in her hand, tracing the carvings against it. It was getting old - she would need to replace it soon. Hopefully, soon was much longer than it could be. The quiver, as always lay beside it, and she attached it to her belt, knowing its real place was would be on Eryunt. The dagger and scimitar joined it, clinking as the two brushed past each other. Did she need weapons where she was going? How was she meant to know?

The Watchman had scowled, hand shifting to his weapon. Had he been warned about her, or was it a natural reaction? She wasn't going to hurt him. She wasn't that stupid. He just shouldn't have snuck up on them. Beast was enough of a warning sign. The Drykas whistled to her to stop her growling, although of course the creature didn't listen. Ignoring her, she stared back up at the other Drykas. "What do you want?" she had to repeat to get him to speak.

Deciding to pack whatever she could, she gathered the rest of her possessions into the backpack, wondering whether the bedroll and tent would be needed too. Probably not. If it was a long enough mission, she'd have been told, and even if it was, it was warm enough to sleep under the sky. Or share someone's tent. Was she going to be alone? She doubted it - nothing had seemed like it pointed to that.

"Tomorrow, you must go to the Gates. Be there at sunset, not after." He spoke warily, yet also demanding, determined to make sure she did what he said.
"Why?" she spat back, refusing to do what they asked unless they told her. Last time she had gone along with them, she had chosen to. The time before, she had left Eryunt and been forced to trawl underground for days. She was going to know what they wanted her for.
The man had already turned, ignoring her. "Why?" she snarled again, louder, barking it as if she was giving the orders.
"Lodai and Azmere will be waiting to give further instruction." Or something like that. She had stopped listening when she heard Azmere's name. What was he doing involved?

With backpack on back, she pushed out of her tent, calling Eryunt closer despite not having to. Her horse understood her so well. She pressed her forehead against him, thanking him, apologising for pulling him away so early in the morning, before mounting, transferring her possessions across his back where necessary. A whistle and Beast joined her side, the dog practically invisible in the darkness of the morning. They moved forward stealthily, all three shadows in the bell before sunrise, the only noise the padding of Eryunt's hooves on the dust and the clinking of Merevaika's weapons. Her whole body radiated with curiosity, but she kept her pace steady, attempting to prove to herself that it hadn't overcome her.

She was going to go. It was decided when she heard his name. Azmere, scarred ankal, loser of his Strider, owner of Grey. The man with a beautiful eyes. Eyes that saw the paths too. She wouldn't give up the opportunity to meet him again.

There were figures, she saw them clearly. Men, on horses. Men, waiting for her. As Eryunt moved towards them, so did another woman. Her eyes weren't on her, but on the scarred warrior, watching his sunbursts with her own. With a smirk, she signed a greeting. "What a strange collection. What are we here for?" Cutting straight to the point was her manner. The other stayed quiet, not asking. Did she already know, or was she simply too meek to ask?

"Pavi"
Grassland sign
"Common"

[Naiya]

This morning stirred differently for Naiya, she woke early, not unusually so, but her wife was missing from her bed, an occurrence that hat punctuated the evenings with new absence. Khida had grown... anxious. No, perhaps weary was simply a better term, sleeping perched above the camp to keep her eyes on her family. It was not so troubling, though, not with the thought that had plagued her since the watchmen had appeared at her home.

Today she would ride with Khida and men of the watch, out to discover what they could about the creature? Beasts? That had filled the city's winter home with the macabre scene that had greeted their people. Bones filled stardown with death and rot. All around the land, there was a lingering energy that set animals to uneasy misbehavior. Still, it had been assumed that Naiya and her wife would be of use in the expedition, and so they had been called to help. Her readiness for such a thing would have been tenfold had they asked her a few seasons ago. Now her heart filled with lead at the thought.

She would be leaving Shai behind. It was the worst feeling she had ever experienced. She knew, knew that the Watch would not ask untrained women on a dangerous mission, yet the feeling of dread at leaving her bosu without surety that she would return safely, or even that he would be safe without her...

If the watch had asked her, it was not without reason. She lifted the ornate basket that Rufio had gifted her, the red fox pelt lying beneath her little boy as she moved his bed closer to Taerin. Crouching beside the sleeping woman, Naiya reached out to stir her into mild wakefulness.

"Taerin," Naiya's voice was quiet, but tinted with the urgency she felt at leaving hey wuepo in the younger woman's care. Whether it was the tone of her voice or the knowledge of why Naiya had awoken her, Taerin seemed to find focus quickly. "We leave soon, take good care of my bosu." The woman nodded, moving to sit up, but Naiya shook her head. "The children sleep still, you should as well. You'll have your hands full today. The neighbors will help. Seek Rufio if you need help, she is a dear friend."

The woman settled, and Naiya rose, gathering herself into a tightly held bundle. She would return, and Shai would be here. Safe. Still, it took all her strength to turn away and begin her day.

She dressed in her tunic and breeches. While it would be warmer than her other gear, she would stick out like a wolf among zibri if she wore her black clothing her unfortunately-pale skin not meant for hiding in the sea. She took a moment longer to tie back her hair, clumping the braid laden mass into four sections that she wove together into a single plait, a wide leather band pressed the small hairs around her face back away from her eyes and helped to dull the shining red color.

Her bow and quiver were loaded into her arms, both sets of her arrows placed with care into the carrier. She strapped two daggers to her body, in easy reach at her hip and calf, a third she placed into her yvas bag to offer her wife should the woman choose to remain free of feathers. She added her collection of water skins, taking four, and leaving two for Shai's care. Surely that was plenty. Her mind warred for long ticks as she deliberated whether she would need to take more or not.

More would be too heavy, she finally decided, with all the rest she planned to bring. She strapped on her archer's bracer, and slid the glove into place on her hand, searched for rations, adding enough for a few days for both herself and Khida.

Outside she found Wildfire, the horse starting at the noise her load of belongings made as she approached. Placing the gear beside him she set to tacking up, a quick run of the curry comb along the lines where the yvas fell, followed by the quick pass of the hard brush to chase away dirt. She felt along his coat, seeking lumps or scratches and plucking away burrs and two ticks from his skin. She tossed the yvas pad into place and strapped in the yvas and her bags. Her quiver on the yvas in reach for an easy draw.

She glanced quickly at Khida who readied herself as well, catching sight of the woman's spear reminded her of her own, left waiting with the newly smithed tip attached by a weaponmaker. A wooden spear had done her little good when she has last been in the sea with Azmere, she had not waited long to rectify that situation.

She searched their wagon for her weapon, finding first the war axe Shahar had often carried. She had no skill with such a weapon, but she tucked it into her belt anyway, reassured by the reminder of her husband. Her spear was easy enough to find, and she chased both Banti and Tuka out from beneath the wagon, Kabek, she knew, was curled up beside Shai once more, watching over the child. Perhaps the other two would be of help on their venture. Or they might just trail along unneeded. All the same, she called them after her.

A final duck into the pavilion had her cloak in hand, the blue silk an unnecessary layer, but perhaps of use should they venture on into the night. She stuffed the bundle of cloth into the second yvas bag, checking the weight of the gear to make sure none pulled the yvas in one direction or the other. Spear in hand she swung herself up into the familiar seat of Wildfire's back.

Wildfire seemed as anxious as she was, tossing his head and flicking his ears to her for his cue. She looked a long time at home before urging her mount to follow behind Khida into the city, felines slinking along at their flanks.

The city was lent to quiet, the unease of their unfamiliar campground and the danger they faced bringing urgency to the normally wary people. Still there were faces to be seen through the city, most tending breakfast, or chasing down animals that needed milking. Naiya had offered coin to a sandy-haired young girl who she had often seen lingering about her family in exchange for her work caring for the Dawnwhisper herds. She had shown her the casks and made sure she knew how to milk both zibri and goats, she only hoped the girl did not leave the animals to wait.

Her path of thought was interrupted by the sight of Azmere, sitting tall above his horse. Lodai was beside him, almost comically large on his horse's back. She signed her greeting from a distance, recognition of the prominent figures coming easily.

Khida signed a greeting, and Naiya urged Wildfire to catch up to her, leaning in to the woman to speak the men's names. "Lodai is the big one, Azmere the one with different eyes." She mirrored the woman's sign with a soft teasing that fell a tad flat across her hands. Her mood was not sociable, not when she had abandoned her bosu and her animals to see to this task.

Before she could offer an introduction in the other direction, Merevaika's approach cut in with words that echoed the question in Naiya's mind. What had she needed to leave her wuepo for?

-----------

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

[Azmere]

The space that was once breezy quiet was soon full. Azmere didn’t recognize the first woman who signed something but the ankal missed it. He saw Naiya with her and acknowledged the greeting with one of his own then caught sight of her hands lazily carving out a word. He furrowed his brow but did not address this since his gaze took in the sight of two hunting cats. Both were graceful and sleek but their skillset might not be needed today. The watchman hoped that Grey would not become overprotective around the great felines.

Lodai waved to Naiya and studied Khida. The big brown eyes shifted about and soaked in what the women carried in terms of weapons and gear. Despite his occasional sharp tongue and little tirades of anger, the Drykas was very quick to calculate what was present and what was lacking in terms of preparing for a journey. The two men exchanged glances and seemed to be in the same conclusion; the messengers who were sent didn’t elaborate on the details.

Azmere turned his head to see another strider come jogging up. He knew this horse as well and knew the rider but each encounter always left him wondering what did he truly know. Merevaika was strong, clever but selfish. The knowledge of their mission and the honor that the watchman placed on his station came into conflict. This was a fact that none would see as the light of Syna’s rays forced the man to squint which effectively masked any sign of his inner thoughts. The archer signed a greeting to each of the women when they had come to a stop. The well-trained eyes took note of a large black dog lingering a ways behind Eryunt. A brief downward glance confirmed Azmere’s suspicion. Grey was rigid and staring between the unfamiliar dog and the two felines. Hopefully, the only drama they would have to contend with today would be the nigh-unbearable heat and some territorial rumbles between companions.

Azmere addressed the small group, his voice was flat but clear. “You’re here to pay a service back to our people.” Drykas. Family. Faith. The ankal moved his gaze intentionally from one person to the next including Lodai while he continued to speak and intermingled signs. “Stardown has been claimed by Dira,” Death. Unnatural. Upset balance. “and some of our people have gone missing.” Watchmen. Skilled. Worry. The gold and azure orbs looked down the line of pavilions that made up the Diamond clan’s leg. The large canvas woven with arrows, symbols of the gods and other weapons stood out among the rest –it housed the Watch. An expression passed his face which revealed that he had confirmed something in his mind but it was replaced by a calm mask when he continued his explanation. “Lodai and I will teach you the art of Webbing.” His hands lingered on the next few signs so there was no mistaking their importance. Sacred. Trust. The man focused a little longer upon Merevaika then relaxed his body back into the yvas.

Lodai nodded to his ankal having read the expressions and understood the stories behind them. The scarred man used his legs to apply pressure to Skylla’s sides but did not lift his weight from the yvas. The watchman made sure to lean back a bit while holding the yvas handle in his left hand. The shift in her rider led the strider to take several steps backwards. The pointed ears of Grey twitched as he stayed close to his master’s horse, still very unsure of the strange animals. Once Azmere had created enough space, he made a quick sign which meant time to ride –the tanned and weathered hands formed the symbols clearly. Then the archer turned and flashed his crooked smile at his second. “You ride tail, bruh.” The big man rolled his brown eyes and waited for everyone else to depart before he followed along –last in line.

Without any further warning, Azmere rocked forward and up onto his knees which rested against his mare's ribs. He squeezed his thighs at the same time and the young mare shot forward down along the wide path between the Diamond and Sapphire clans. He coaxed the speckled strider faster and faster with hushed phrases as he leaned forward and used the rhythm of his body to usher her along. Their timing was not perfect as their bond was still fresh but Azmere was experienced enough to control the urges of his naïve mount and to maintain a steady gallop. Skylla’s problem was not her lack of speed or desire to run fast. It lied in her ability to do so without engaging the Web. On several occasions, Azmere had found himself far away from his destination because the wild animal tapped into her ability to channel the djed lines. The thought did occur to him to leave everyone in the dust but that was not the point of this exercise so he showed restraint.

After only seven chimes, his mare had carried him well beyond the reach of Tent City so the watchman leaned back and began to slow the strider down to an easy trot. Azmere had picked this spot out carefully a day past. It was a small hill that seemed to curl into itself. They would take turns keeping a lookout from the top while those within the web could meditate in the shade. The ankal made several notes to himself to encourage hydration and stretching throughout the mission since novice web mages needed to be relaxed to separate from their bodies.

Azmere did not wait for the others before he dismounted near the base of the hill. He swung his right leg over and dropped down to the ground and landed in a crouch which he held for a moment. The scar tissue in his left thigh reverberated a dull ache up and down the muscle and bones which the Drykas absorbed with a grimace. He straightened himself up and quickly removed the yvas. He tensed his shoulders and bent his elbows slightly then lifted he leather seat from Skylla’s back. His arms flexed from the strain but he took a step and pivoted away then used control to squat down and set it in the grass. He adjusted the bags so nothing would get smashed then stood up once more to brush out the strider’s hide with his palms. Grey finally caught up and bowled into Azmere’s legs. The man reached down and grabbed a fistful of fur and skin on the dog’s neck and shook him lovingly but briefly. The watchman turned and watched as the rest of the group arrived. When the women had dismounted and settled, he would begin their training.

[Khida]

Another joined them, a woman on a dark Strider with a dog for a shadow; there was a vague familiarity to her posture and profile, a hint that tickled the depths of Khida's mind but failed to emerge into actual awareness. More than a familiar face, this woman with her aloof bearing and her pointed question, but not a known quantity.

Their wife distracted Khida as she joined the small knot of Drykas and their creatures, murmuring identifiers into the Kelvic's ear. Lodai, Azmere. Khida nodded briefly, before returning her full attention to the men in question -- and not a moment too soon, as the odd-eyed man addressed them with details the prior messengers had not supplied. As was so often the case, many of the specific words eluded Khida's grasp; his signs, however, stripped the phrases to an essence which resonated clearly with her own concerns. Then his discourse slowed, diction of both word and sign made distinctly emphatic, somber tones underscoring import.

Webbing. Trust.

What Khida knew of Webbing, in truth, might have been written on the point of one of her arrows. A thing esoteric, bearing considerable weight and significance for the Drykas yet long beyond the concerns of her own daily existence. Exactly what Webbing referred to, the Kelvic had never unpacked; the one person who had tried to explain it, once upon a time, had left her younger self rather bewildered. She could only wonder why it needed them now -- and what it had to do with the situation at Stardown.

She didn't have long to spend on that wondering, though, as the odd-eyed man directed them to ride. His horse launched herself forward at considerable speed; it was a bit daunting for Khida to see the rate at which its haunches receded. The large man remained behind with a clearly expectant air -- waiting, evidently, for the three women to follow after the first.

Steeling herself -- inwardly, mainly, for the lesson of the past season had been don't cling to the horse -- Khida raised her center and brought her weight just a bit forward, cueing her own Strider into motion. Slower motion to start, the first few steps taken at a walk as the pair were typically wont to travel; then faster, four beats of equine footfalls eliding into three as the rider continued to urge her horse along. Considerations of the strange men, the bone-littered crater, the mysteries of Webbing all fell by the wayside; Khida's focus narrowed to the movements of the horse beneath her and her own relationship to that body. To sitting straight, centered yet relaxed, maintaining place while moving with (not against!) the horse. At least the horse wasn't bouncing the way she did at a trot; Khida didn't have to try and control that rise and fall. She just had to let her hips swing a bit while keeping her torso steady.

Just.

Also fortunate was that Sephra didn't need overt direction to follow along with the little group... not for the few chimes it took for them to catch up with the odd-eyed man. He'd already dismounted and set about releasing his horse from its tack; settling her weight and adding a bit of pressure with her legs, Khida guided Sephra to a halt a short distance away. She glanced briefly to the others, drawing and releasing a long breath before swinging out of her yvas and dropping her own feet to the ground.

At least whatever Webbing required of them seemed not to also necessitate more riding. Not that she didn't love her Strider... but by horse just wasn't her favorite means of rapid transit.

Keeping the odd-eyed man in peripheral view, Khida took her cues from his actions. She undid her own Strider's gear, hauling bags and straps and pad down in turns with rather more determination than grace. Khida did set them aside with care, making sure each item would be quickly accessible and in the proper order for after whatever would be done here. Sephra whuffed into her rider's hair, blowing several errant strands across her face; Khida brushed them back, then patted the horse's neck and scratched a bit under her mane. Wait, watch, she signed to the Strider, before giving her one last pat.

When that was all said and done, Khida stepped over to join the others, waiting with quiescent patience for whatever further instructions would be forthcoming.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Merevaika]

Merevaika

Merevaika shifted on Eryunt as she felt the two dogs, both hers at some point, tense at each other, moving to separate them. Would Grey recognise her, still? Of course. Would her presence calm her? Perhaps. She had no clue how the man would have trained him, what he would have trained him in. Forgetting, or remembering.

As she moved for the animals, Azmere moved his hands to speak, Merevaika catching glimpses of them before she turned to face him properly. He spoke of faith and family, something she didn't have, and didn't want. He spoke of Dira upsetting the balance, too, and this did interest her a little further. The woman shifted her green and red eyes towards him, watching the way he sat on his horse carefully. Were they planning a fight with the goddess who had taken so much from her? His flicker of expression was masked quickly enough so she couldn't judge him, but she doubted it. The Drykas had shown well enough this season that they weren't stupid enough to mess with the gods. Not the clever ones, anyway.

It was his next words that caught her sharply. They wanted to teach her Webbing. She flickered her gaze at the two other women, wondering whether they had heard what she had heard, whether they understood what that meant. It meant they trusted her. Trusted her enough to teach her the skill they hid so well from anyone who didn't wear the windmarks. Fools, she smiled to herself, recognising the way he moved in his yvas as preparation to ride and mimicking them.

Pressing her legs firmly against Eryunt, she rose in her seat, the horse moving quickly as she pressed herself forward, adjusting to the movement of the air around her and the strider beneath her. Without much effort, the two moved like one, flowing across the grass and keeping close to Azmere and his new strider. The Kelvic shuffled around behind them, slow and unsteady on her horse, and Merevaika began to question the magic they were planning to teach them. There was a Kelvic, who rode like a walahk and didn't have any reason to learn. There was Merevaika, the thief, the kinslayer, who was as separate from the Drykas as she was part of them. The only who made sense was, perhaps, was Naiya, who as far as Merevaika knew, was a perfect Drykas wife.

So why were they teaching them? What did they want them for? It had to be something - something the Watchmen couldn't do, or didn't want to do. Something people like her could be used for. He had spoken of missing Watchmen, and as she turned to watch him even closer, she wondered if that was it. They didn't want to risk any more of their own. They were using her.

But what did she care? She was going to gain Webbing, something she had sought after her whole life, it seemed. And now it was in reach, so much that the woman wanted to charge ahead, skip all the boring business. Just learn, and deal with what Dira had sent if that had to be done.

Curving Eryunt round at the base of the hill, she dismounted in the same movement, finding the ground brush her feet as she caught her balance. Eryunt curved back around her, slowing to let her find his yvas. Her fingers brushed under it, unhooking it from his back and placing it a decent distant from where Azmere was placing his strider's. It sunk under the grass, all her possessions dotted about it, until she stood almost with nothing, pressing her fingers softly against her strider's neck. Her shifted pleasantly under her touch, the woman pressing herself a little closer to him.

As she watched the others trail in, something shifted in the grass. Beast - she recognised the dark shadow instantly, and gave a whistle. Of course, the creature didn't listen, remaining on the outside of the group, lingering in the grasses. Guarding - her matching eyes stared out across the plains, ready to alert them of anything approaching.

"Then teach us," Merevaika spoke up as she moved over to the group, "Show us the web." Her words were as emotionless as she could make them, but they trembled with excitement, curiosity, but most of all, desire. She needed to learn this. She had to.

"Pavi"
Grassland sign
"Common"

[Naiya]

Naiya's eyes followed the look Azmere cast at her companions, assessing, perhaps but his gaze did not linger, nor did he shape comment in her direction. It was clear to see where his concern came from, the dog at his feet stood, a single coiled muscle, scared, perhaps, or agressive. Merevaika's angry beast was no help, a writhing ball of fury on the outskirt of their party. Naiya cast her eyes back to her own companions, already laying in the grass at Wildfire's feet, entirely nonchalant. She waved them back, close, hunt her command one to stay near, but to follow their own path alongside them.

She didn't see them escape into the grass as Azmere began to speak, his words echoing the rumors that permeated the city, the sight that lingered in the minds of their people. Stardown filled with death.

They would be taught the web, perhaps in hopes of seeking out what had caused the desecration of their winter abode. A great pleasure filled her, she had been concerned that their pavilion held no webber, no one to tie their family to the web nor help direct them to the new settlement of the city. Now they would have two, their desperate clinging to the city so as not to be left alone and blind would hold less panic. They could follow at leisure.

This was an endeavor worth the pain of separation from her bosu.

She tried again to shake the discontented feeling that lingered in her bones, guiding Wildfire into line with the other horses with a gentle pressure of her calf against his side. It was hardly needed as they began to walk, his own goals so inline with her own the direction was more habit than need.

Azmere's speckled mount picked up the pace and Naiya followed, sitting firmly in the cradle of Wildfire's back she asked him to move faster, urging him with her legs and move faster he did, his hind end dropping behind her as he pushed himself into the rocking motion of a canter. She bounced once, off beat with his motion, but quickly recovered the following motion of her hips, letting her body be loose and rounded with his motion rather than held above his back.

There seemed to be a location already in mind, and they headed there quickly, and when Azmere slowed Naiya let Wildfire continue, circling around their destination in wide loops as she searched for the movement of grass that said her felines were not lost.

She didn't find it before it became more important to join the others, but it didn't cause her great concern. They would stroll in at some point, hot and worn out most likely, but perhaps with meat that they could share.

She dismounted beside Sephra, already freed from her tack, and began loosening the girth and gear of Wildfire's own burden. She had loaded her things down with enough supplies for a far different venture, and she strained beneath the weight of the yvas loaded so full. Still, she managed to lay the gear down without allowing anything to break, and with a careful thought, she grabbed her spear relaxed by her side it was a promise to be ready rather than an expression of fear.

She joined the others, mindful of her weapon taking up space, but unwilling to abandon it with the ill feeling that lingered across the land and the anger of the animals with the lack of winter. Better to be safe.

-----------

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

[Azmere]

Azmere remained still for several ticks as each member of the group tended to their possessions and companions. Lodai was the last to arrive but the brown-eyed warrior was of no concern to the ankal. A previous discussion had laid out the general approach for the day’s activities. The archer had taught webbing on several occasions but was not quite an expert. He had never undertaken multiple pupils at once and the sudden weight of their mission slammed into his gut like a lump of overcooked rice. The blue and gold stare took in one woman at a time as he weighed emotions, standing and overall bearing.

Merevaika trembled like the tall oat stalks right before the grains fell. If he was to make her wait, she would likely cause trouble and this would not do. The object was to teach the art of the Web to more Drykas but there was an underlying mission that was of equal importance –to find out what happened to the missing patrols. The flat tenor spoke in conjunction with quick signals that relayed an order. “Merevaika.” First. Azmere watched her reaction. He knew of the young woman’s selfish tendencies and of her arrogance but he still believed her to be Drykas at heart. Today’s lessons would reveal much on this matter.

The weathered hands and sun-narrowed gaze turned next to Naiya. The archer and his brother-in-arms had encountered the redhead nearly a year past after the raiders had swarmed the grasslands. “Naiya.” Last. The expression on his face was one of understanding. He saw her when the woman was trying to find her way without her husband –a man Azmere had met only once. The watchman has born witness to the maturity of the female. In every sense of the word, she was an ankal though unrecognized by her clan. She would receive instruction that the other two would not for the leader of a family had to be the most knowledgeable in matters of the Web.

Finally, the multichromatic starbursts landed upon the other woman. She had golden eyes and there was a hint of animal behind them. For an instant, Azmere saw the face of Firenze and had to shake off the apparition. He asked the woman’s name with his hands while he spoke aloud. “You’ll go first with Merevaika.” He nodded his head forward in a slight bow to Lodai who was still on his big black stallion. The gargantuan fellow led the strider over towards the hill’s rise and dismounted. The big warrior stripped the yvas and unpacked some gear rather quickly then plopped down where he would be in partial shade for a good long while. He watched the two dark-haired women for a moment and seemed to fight the urge to say something unwise or unwanted but caught a glimpse of his stern-faced ankal and decided against such actions. Instead, the deep brown eyes wandered over to Naiya and he signed an invitation for her to come and sit on the gradual incline next to him. A smirk crossed his face at the end. “You can bring your spear.”

Azmere ignored Lo for the most part. He was a bear of man but nobler than he let on and the archer trusted him completely. The scarred watchman turned his focus to the two women he had designated for the first lesson. His hands motioned for them to move up against the hill’s arch where the grass was completely shaded and the air was cooler. Sit. Relax. “Focus on your breathing and try to match the winds.” He was about to say something else when Skylla came jogging up. She tossed her mane from one side to the other then shoved the Drykas with her snout.

The young mare was eager to run and had grown used to morning rides. Today’s brief jaunt had hardly sated the strider’s desire for speed. The ankal waited a few moments for his steed’s hooves to stop moving. The anxious prance slowed after a few ticks and eventually stopped as Skylla held still as if she was mimicking the calm demeanor of her rider. Azmere took a step forward and placed his hands along her neck. He stroked the soft hide for a moment then moved his face around so that they were cheek to cheek. With his right arm under the horse’s neck and the hand clamped over the top, he laced his fingers into her chocolate colored mane then squeezed tight using his bicep as both leverage and force to keep her from moving. The Drykas moved his left hand out in front of her nose where she could see it and signed the same phrase three times while he whispered it to her. Chase the shadow. “Chase the shadow.” Chase the shadow.

A groan rose up from the big Drykas. The sound was a perfect replication of the noise old trees made beneath the sway of a strong wind except Lodai had half a mouth full of jerky. Azmere almost laughed but simply smiled with the right side of his face –the left immobilized by scar tissue. Then he released her. The young strider, marked by a coat of stars, tore off around the hill and flung several clumps of sod behind her. On her return, she found Atavan; Lodai’s black strider and brushed him as she took off across the steppe. The stallion had no choice but to heed his wild heart and gave chase.

Azmere watched for a moment as the two horses galloped off into Syna’s rays then spun on his booted heel and walked to the shade where he had previously directed Khida and Merevaika. The archer sat down with his back against the rise and sank down into the grass. He signaled for them to do the same. When he spoke, his voice was much softer than before. “The Web exists all around us whether we acknowledge it or not.” Ancient. Powerful. Steadfast. The man seemed to be sinking into the dirt as the blades of grass flattened beneath his frame. “To join the web, to meet it- you have to let your conscious find the point where it sees a way out.” He gave more signs and was trying to not rush through the explanation. The archer’s nerves played against him but he steeled his will to remain calm and even. Separate body. Awareness.

The ankal looked down at his feet as the large Luvanor made three circles then sat down by his master’s boots. The canine’s pale blue eyes were almost ghostly in the day’s early light. The right corner of Azmere’s face cured up then he continued. “You can’t worry about your safety. You can’t worry about your animals. You have to be free so that your body will release your djed soul.” Azmere pointed to the dogs, the cats and then to Lodai and Naiya. Protection. He met the gaze of each woman and held it with a firm stare as he emphasized his next statement. “Never.” Never. “Enter the web without someone to watch over you.” After he was certain his point was made, the ankal laid back into the grass and shut his eyes.

Azmere was a seasoned webber and shifted into the Web almost instantly. His awareness slipped sideways as he moved around each person to study the knots tied upon them. Naiya and Khida both shared the origin of Shahar. It was an interesting knot but nothing overly fancy. Given what little Azmere knew about him, it seemed to fit. Lodai now bore the Stormblood knot that the archer had created and Merevaika’s was old and hard to discern. The world within the Web looked exactly the same; colors were slightly faded but patterns, textures and everything else were the same. The one major difference was the presence of a huge grid, massive and never-ending, of lines or strands of djed. Most held pale colors or were white with colored hues that clung to the edges. The scarred man had learned to discern the age of a djed line by the amount of color it held. Some were bright. Some were dim. The weaves, thickness and even how the strings were placed upon the grass varied from mage to mage. The azure and amber gaze turned back to watch the forms of the relaxing women and waited.

In order for one to be initiated, the mentor had a simple task to perform. Azmere moved freely around the small hill but made sure to always be as far away from his body as possible. The closer one drew, the easier it was to wake up. First, the scarred man sat next to Merevaika. He studied the djed that radiated from within her form using the knot that her one-time ankal had tied. It was a physical tether on this side of the Web and highlighted the magic that all creatures shared. The watchman pondered if this was the same thing that he would see if he used pathfinding. While he pondered such things, Azmere drew djed into his palms simply by focusing upon the manifestation. Pools formed at first but the ankal used his will to shape the glowing substance into a singular strand of fiber. The web mage formed almost a dozen feet of the magical cord and then began to weave it in and out of Merevaika's presence. He hummed to himself while he worked but made certain to take his time and do a good job. The weave slowly took shape as a flat strap that was six strands wide. Azmere went over and under time and time again making sure to push up the slack and pull the line tight. This took several chimes before he had a nice lead that was several feet long. He paused to generate more djed rope and then used this new material to bind the existing strap of the woman to one of the old djed lines that ran between the group. This would allow the wild spirit to merge with the Web once she found the place where her body would let go.

Next, Azmere circled around to Khida. Her djed was different in that it seemed to be concentrated into a smaller shape than that of the other woman. Perhaps it had something to do with being a kelvic. This gave the webber more food for thought as he pulled more djed from within his body to create cord. He did not start weaving until he had made as much as was used with his first pupil. The strong hands did not ache or grow stiff from the constant exertion of tied knots and threading lines. After several more chimes, Khida had been strapped to the Web as well.

He climbed to the top of the hill now that he was finished and thought of a few simple tasks they could perform to grow accustomed to this new world. The truth was that there was no definite way to predict how long it would take for someone to grasp the concept of the Web. Some understood it quickly –were naturals- and they would shift into the realm easily. For others, the task was harder to wrap their brains around and it could take hours of meditation to cross over. So to bide his time, Azmere threw tiny balls of djed that he formed from his palms at Lodai. The beads simply melted into the strands that they touched and helped to rejuvenate the net in the immediate area. This passed the time for a brief spell so the watchman decided to go ahead and tie Naiya in to the web at this time. He formed djed in his hands thn converted it into a thin rope which was used to bind her essence; her djed into the unseen world that covered Cyphrus.

[Khida]

The three women gathered before the odd-eyed man, not all entirely at ease; their wife stood with spear to hand, while the dark-haired woman urged the man to quick action. Meanwhile, he studied them, evaluating, weighing them against some inward scale whose nature Khida could not begin to guess. He spoke, signed, assigning to each of them a figurative position: first, last, first with.

He asked her name, silent query evoking fleeting surprise from the Kelvic. Had his own people not shared that with him? "Khida," she supplied readily enough, simple and to the point.

She signed assent to her placement in the learning order, having no strong opinion in that regard. The large man spoke to their wife, but the odd-eyed man gestured his two students forward, and he held the Kelvic's attention. He bid them sit, take ease; said something about breathe like wind before being interrupted by his horse. Khida settled herself while the mare danced in place, legs crossed, elbows on her thighs, hands palm-up in her lap folded one over the other. She watched as the man first calmed his horse, then sent her racing off. Khida was no expert on gauging equine ages, but the Strider in all her rambunctious energy seemed young -- and the young did demand attention at inopportune times.

She knew from experience. They had a pavilion full of the very young.

Movement redirected Khida's attention -- the man, seating himself amidst the grass, just a bit past arm's reach. He resumed speaking, slow and quiet; words about the Web, surrounding. Awareness. Words between that eluded her grasp. About not worrying, being free. And a firm, grave warning linking the Web with another, watching. He emphasized that importance by indicating some of their companions -- predators and humans alike.

Khida found it curious that the Striders were not included in the odd-eyed man's selection of protectors. Did they not have eyes to see, ears to hear, hooves to kick, teeth to bite? But she did not ask; their omission was a detail, surely irrelevant in the context of the lesson. But it lingered at the edge of her thoughts because it was a detail -- a small concern her mind could grasp in full. The rest... the rest remained murky.

Not least because the man simply laid himself back and closed his eyes, giving forth no more words she might use as stepping stones to comprehension. Apparently they had all they needed to know... somehow. A line of concentration furrowed Khida's brow as she spent several ticks watching the man rest, her attention turned inward, reflecting upon his words. Sit. Breathe the wind. Be aware. Be free.

Well, that seemed simple enough to try.

Closing her eyes, Khida listened. She listened to the sound of her own breath rushing through her nose, the sound of grasses murmuring to each other in the breeze, the cadence of more-distant hoofbeats beating upon the earth. The wind flitted to and fro, teasing strands of hair across the skin of her face; distracted by their tickling, she reached up to shove the errant locks firmly behind her ears.

She breathed in when the breeze lulled, exhaled when it surged. Found herself, soon enough, struggling to hold to that convention because there was no convention; the winds were fitful, erratic, whimsical. Breathing was a thing regular, cadenced, dependable. They did not mesh, not for the Kelvic who took the world as she perceived it and invested little in philosophical analogies.

Intangible, devoid of body, the wind did not breathe.

Time stretched as Khida tried to abide by that first direction all the same, awareness reaching for the winds, trying to fit patterns to their chaotic behavior. It felt like forever, chimes morphing into a lesser age defined by attention to something that normally passed entirely beneath her notice. Day to day, Khida did not think about breathing -- about the way her ribs inflated, the slight lift of her shoulders that came as a side effect, the cool pressure of air passing through her insides. About the different sensations between breathing from the chest, and breathing from the gut. About how pressure changed subtly in her seat, another thing she had only recently learned to be aware of, pelvic bones and muscles pushed ever so slightly downwards by the force of each breath.

There was a rock under her -- a pebble, really, not exactly a cause of discomfort, but something that loomed large in sensation now that she was noticing.

All this didn't feel like it was getting her anywhere at all.

In time, Khida opened her eyes again, looking out at a world painted in green and blue, limned by sunlight and shade. She tipped her head just slightly back, gazing above the horizon, off into the endless expanse of the heavens. Casting aside the thought of everything she had noticed -- everything that had evidently failed to accomplish what the man desired, as no change had ensued -- she returned to first principles. What had the man said, again?

Breathe. Be aware. Be free.

Originally, Khida had seized on the first instruction, holding it as the most important by virtue of precedence. But aware and free were not things the Kelvic measured in breath, in sensation, in the detailed workings of muscle and bone; if freedom was the goal, she decided, becoming buried in those minutia was no better than being ensnared in a trap.

In its truest essence, the Kelvic's heart defined freedom as one and only one thing.

Forget breathing. Closing her eyes again, Khida left her body to its own devices; the how of its workings receded beneath notice. She reached outwards instead, reached for the image of sky still reflected against the insides of her eyelids, for the loft of winds rising and the breadth of horizon curving below. She drew about her mind the memory of feathers, of wings outstretched, basking in the warmth of Syna above, cooled by tendrils of air slipping between shielding vanes --

An errant breeze tickled all-too-human skin, sliding off one shoulder and under her vest, drawing a cool finger down her spine. The reality of that sensation jarred the illusion building in her thoughts; human shoulders, human arms, these things did not lend themselves to flight.

Shaking her head slightly, Khida mentally picked up the tatters of imagination and set about piecing them back together.

She didn't even make it as far as the last time -- perhaps halfway -- before something with too many prickling legs crawled off her trousers and onto the bare skin of her arm. Khida reflexively shook it loose, peering down at the offending bug as it righted itself on a clump of grass. Some kind of beetle, mottled red and black. Harmless, except for the discontinuity its touch had emphasized -- that the reality of her body did not match the imagery in her mind, a disconnect she lacked the experience to push on through.

That disconnect, however, could be otherwise resolved.

She might simply have shifted where she sat, but that felt... less than ideal, even if Khida could not pinpoint why. She rose slowly, casting a brief glance sidewise to the second student and trying not to do anything that might disturb her as Khida herself had been disturbed. She removed shoes and socks and set them aside, followed by trousers and undergarments and vest folded atop all. She drew in a slow breath, released it just as unhurriedly, and shifted, fleeting glimmer of light leaving the falcon in the woman's place, standing barely taller than the pile of clothes she had lately made.

Now the outside matched the inside.

The Kelvic settled herself into the grasses and closed her eyes as she had done before. Now it was feathers, and not skin, that the errant breeze brushed past; she did not spread her wings in fact, but she was aware of their reality, the potential they promised.

Freedom.

To be free was to be untethered by earth, to rise with the lofting air, to dance across the dome of the heavens as only the winged and the winds might do. Khida's mind reached again for that imagery, that memory, aided now rather than hindered by the cast of her flesh. She reached for the high winds, not the errant gusts that played across Semele's skin but the great currents that blew on without beginning or end, intangible ribbons of air from whose embrace the breadth of the earth lay exposed to her view.

There was freedom, and the quintessence of awareness as a bird would have it, with all the nearby world in her sights.

Only...

...when she reached up and out, Khida found something beneath imagined wings that didn't register quite like her memories of wind, and a vista nothing like the expected curve of the horizon. She saw... the hill, the grass which covered it, the clothes she had removed. The landscape seemed... strangely dim. In contrast, the sky above, the air around, all were threaded through with streaks like winds given color and illumination, then frozen in place. Strands. Webs.

The things were everywhere.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi