When the Would-Be Ankal's Away... (Denen)

[Dymphna]

“It’s… Not the easiest place to be in for me. I mean… It’s wonderful, but…” She gave a little shrug. “I’m the daughter of an Ankal, and my mother isn’t there to put in her opinions on things. I’ve always… I guess I’ve always tried to shy away from this sort of situation, because I’m of marrying age now… I don’t expect to have any say in who I marry. I’ve always just assumed that I’d learn to love whoever it is. But now…” She sighed, hunching just a little so that Denen didn’t have to reach too much to help her with her scarf. Her red hair was littered with braids and opals, a Glassbeak feather here and there which had been gifts from Sam the day they met, and other little trinkets that she liked to keep close. She held a rather high status for a young woman in her pavilion, and it tended to show in her adornment. Her dark eyes remained on Denen, the worry and touch of sadness not fading away as she said, “I know what Sam’s intentions are… At least I think I do. I just hope my father doesn’t find someone he thinks is more suited for me before Sam decides he’s worthy of being a husband and approaches him about it… I just… He’s so insecure with himself. I mean, he just… He has things to prove to himself even if I already see those things in him.” Why was she telling him this? She wasn’t sure, though it likely had something to do with the fact that she’d needed a compassionate soul who wasn’t completely involved somehow. She bit her bottom lip. “Please don’t say anything to him about it?” But then she paused, giving Denen a conspiring look and tiny smile. “I hope one day you are even luckier than me in finding love… Cheva’s ways are beyond our understanding… You’ll find someone. I’m sure of it.” Though his face had made her wonder if he had feelings for Sam, too. And she found herself a little shocked that the thought didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen was quiet, knowing all too well how Dymphna felt. His own father was Ankal of his Pavilion, and his mother had died shortly after he was born. And only a short time ago, the woman who had raised him had died as well, and by her own hand. Though he didn't tell anyone, Denen blamed himself for both. It was a shame he carried within his heart, too afraid to ever reveal to any other. And as Dymphna spoke, another fear twisted in his heart. What if he never married? He had other brothers who had and would carry on their family name, but he knew how much it was expected, and felt the sharp barb of another mark on himself. Denen admired the pretty things in Dymphna's hair. His own was relatively free of baubles, as he found they got in the way, or bothered him when he was trying to work. He gently brushed his fingers along a feather, admiring it quietly. He finished tying the scarf, and then adjusted it properly, letting his hands slowly drop down to his sides, so that they wouldn't linger awkwardly on her body. "Your hair is like fire, Dymphna," he said quietly. "I am sure your father will want what is best, Dymphna. And I hope he will be able to see that your heart is bound to Sam, and Sam's to yours." His own father, he knew, could not be expected to do the same. Would he even bother to seek a mate for his youngest child? He gave a soft sigh, watching her words with concern written across his soft features. Maybe he could talk to Sam, encourage him. He gently patted Dymphna's hand, giving her a soft, hopeful smile. "Maybe Sam needs a little help from his friends." After all, what else were friends for? Denen doubted his own future, and decided, then, to do what he could to help his friends. "Sam is a good man, he just doesn't see that yet. He will be a great leader one day. I only hope he lets me stay around to see it." He offered her his arm for support, so that they might continue walking, now that they had exchanged scarves. It felt, to him, like an exchanging of hearts, though the boy was too frightened to tell her the whole of his. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, after all. He knew he wasn't normal. "I won't say anything," he promised with his hands. But his cheeks burned at her words, and he shook his head. "Oh, I don't think I will be so very lucky." He bit his lip and looked down a moment. "I'm...I'm not...l-like most...b-boys. I...um..." His voice cracked, and he glanced up to her. He gave up using it then, reverting to his hands. "I'm not even sure there are a lot of boys like me. Maybe outside of Endrykas, but...not here." Would she understand what he was trying to say? It was awkward enough trying not to blurt out that he thought he might be in love with the same man as she was. He watched his feet for a little bit, his stomach twisting.

[Dymphna]

With Denen watching his feet, Dymphna was able to really take in what he was saying and mull it over as she walked along on his arm. She thought, maybe she knew what he was speaking about… About being different. She had picked up on it, after all, but she hadn’t tried to confirm it. It was curious and strange to her, but she had enough wisdom in her 17-year-old head to understand that she didn’t really know the truths behind the nature of life beyond those taught to her by the Sea of Grass. And she was Drykas; she believed with every fiber of her being that everything in the world had its place and purpose… She also believed the gods not so cruel that they’d never let a good soul feel alone their entire life. She squeezed Denen’s arm, working to get his attention before signing to him, “A great leader understands that his strength comes from his pavilion… He moves to build a closely-knit one. He fosters belonging and discourages petty squabbling… He accepts. Sam won’t push you away, because he is going to need you, but more importantly you’re his friend. I don’t see that changing… You’re both of good, strong heart.” She nodded a little as they got to the Whitefeather Pavilion, its grounds bustling with her family – Very few with red hair it would be added. The banner flying told of the family accepting patients, and the apothecary was open. But Dymphna stopped for a moment, turning to look at Denen again. “The world doesn’t put a person on its grounds alone… I’m glad you aren’t like the other boys of Endrykas, Denen. Most of them are unbearably boring.” She smiled, but then she glanced about a moment. “The heart conspires. Love happens beyond all boundaries… Your difference isn’t so truly different. We all love the same… Sometimes the same person even… She peered at him a long moment, seemingly passive and not owning a concern in the world over what she was insinuating, even while she was searching to see what his reaction would tell her.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen had known about his difference most of his life. As if being deaf wasn't enough. He hadn't told anyone, save Sam and Aiken (who had both discovered it without him telling). Neither of them had said anything about it, though it opened a realm of understanding between the three young men. Denen wished he could have that with his Pavilion, that he could be open without being worried. He knew, or hoped, at least, that his people would be accepting, but it was the reaction of his family that he feared. He knew he'd been made the way he was for a reason. He only wished that he understood what that reason was. He looked up as she squeezed his arm, watching her hands and giving a soft, appreciative smile to the words. Of course she was right. Even as young as he was, Sam was a good leader. With more experience, he would become a great leader. Denen had faith in that. He had faith in Sam. Sam was his first true friend. Denen had never felt so accepted and appreciated as he did around Sam and the others. He didn't think that would ever change. "You're right," he answered, smiling again. "I am proud to be his friend. I...I am proud to be your friend." When they stopped, Denen's attention was initially drawn to the Pavilion. He looked around at the familiarity of a settled, Opal Clan family, and smiled faintly to himself. It made him a bit homesick, if only for his father's first wife's cooking. He'd gotten skinnier--if that was possible--since moving, mainly due to the activity that he was given amongst his new friends, where he had been so beyond use in his own. But soon, his attention was drawn to Dymphna, and he gave her his signature, quiet smile. And as she spoke, his face went hot. He focused on her hands, grateful that he didn't have to look into her eyes as he watched her speak. With a somewhat trembling hand, be reached up and rubbed his collarbone, all the while chewing his lower lip. Why did he feel like crying? A sudden guilt washed over him, and he looked quickly into her eyes, signing rapidly. "I wouldn't try to take him from you, Dymphna. Honest. I can't help myself. He's so...kind and good, and I..." But he stopped, realizing how pathetic it likely seemed. "Sam doesn't think of me like that, I don't think. Please...don't tell anyone. I don't want to make things awkward. I do that enough as it is."

[Dymphna]

She let out a sigh, but it was more at him looking away than what he said. Very carefully, she placed a tender hand against his jaw and urged him to look back at her. It hurt to see the young man so uncomfortable. She moved to hug him tightly before pulling away just enough that she could use her hands to tell him what she wanted him to know. “Our society allows for the luxury of multiple loves, Denen… Though men have the greater freedom with it than women. Still…” She paused, looking upwards as she clearly grasped for how she wanted to say what she was thinking. “I know where my place is in Sam’s heart. He’s going to be an Ankal, and he’ll take more wives… I don’t… I guess I don’t see the difference between him loving another woman and loving a man. So…” She bent down a little to give him a stern look that flew into a sincere grin. “I won’t say anything to him about it. You have my word. But… If something were to develop for whatever reason, I want you to know I wouldn’t be upset. And if it feels right to the both of you... Well, your happiness is what matters to me.”

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen was fortunate to have missed the sigh, as he might have misread it, or thought she was angry with him when she wasn't. Still, the hand on his jaw turned his face toward hers, and his brows rose a bit. Maybe she wasn't as angry as he had assumed she might be when or if she found out how he felt about Sam. He remained quiet as she spoke, though filled with silent gratitude for the goodness of her heart. How many other girls would say the same, when the man they desired was wanted by another, especially by another man. But he was hardly a threat to her. Sam loved her, that much was clear, and in time, he would ask her father to allow Dymphna to marry him. The thought made him happy, knowing that it would make the pair happy, but he was admittedly envious. But Dymphna didn't seem at all upset. If anything, she seemed encouraging. He bit his lower lip, and managed a smile. The fleeting wonder of whether or not it would be possible for him to be married to Sam crossed his mind. His face went hot, and he suddenly moved to embrace her. "Th-Thank you, Dymphna," he murmured. "It means a lot to me. I really do want the best for you two, and...I don't even think Sam likes other boys, but it means a lot to me that you're not upset. I wouldn't dream of getting in the way." He smiled warmly and hugged her again, relieved beyond belief that she didn't want to kill him.

[Dymphna]

She smiled a warm smile, surprisingly motherly for a young woman of her age. Of course, anyone spending any time around her pavilion would realize that she, being the oldest in her mother’s line, had stepped up to care for her younger siblings upon her arrival home… There had been more around her age, of course, but they had perished in the Zith attack. Still she had been the oldest when everyone was alive. “I want what’s best for you, too, Denen. And what the gods have planned for us will come to pass as it should, but… Don’t deny yourself for my sake, if what happens allows you to. Unhappiness breeds illness.” She gave him another hug, surprisingly affectionate when she was allowed to be. Her attention turned towards her pavilion then, smiling proudly at it. The Whitefeathers were good people, though she was perhaps a little biased. “You have a place in my pavilion, my future one, and my heart. You always will. Now… Let’s go get you the herbs you need. She gave his arm another squeeze before urging him to start walking again. Her herbs were calling.

[Denen Sunsinger]

It was nice to have a female friend. Denen was significantly more tender than most males, with a heart that felt things deeply, and was too easily broken or touched. He hated it at times, having this soft, breakable body when all he wanted was to feel that he was important. The hunt had helped that, had helped him to see his value, though he--admittedly--still needed help in that area. He smiled quietly as she signed to him, and nodded his head. Things would be as the gods deigned it. He had to trust that. He couldn't let himself be sad if it didn't go as he desired. He just had to remember that things were, and had always been, in the gods' hands. He returned her hug, grateful and reassured by the motion. He had always been one for hugs, and it was nice to get them from her after he'd bared his soul like that. After they'd both been so unbelievably open. Denen didn't even begin to pretend that he had told her everything, nor that she had begun to reveal any deep, dark secrets, but there was a level of understanding there, one he had with no one else. He beamed at her, unable to help himself. She was, truly, too kind to him, and he wished he could repay her for that. Perhaps, one day, he could bring her babies safely into the world. That, he decided, would be at least a start. "Maybe I can show you my Pavilion one day. My father would like you."

[Dymphna]

“I would love to meet your family. We’ll have to do that at some point, yes.” Dymphna let out another girlish giggle as she moved to wrap her arm about Denen’s waist as the moved further along. She gave his hip the gentlest of bumps with her own along with a playful grin. He was very sweet, and she clearly appreciated his gentleness. The Whitefeather Pavilion was basically like any other Opal Clan home. And with everyone so busy, Dymphna didn’t have to stop to make any introductions as they made their way around to the little pavilion holding their apothecary. “Hello, Edain,” the young woman called into the back. “I’m here with my friend Denen. We’re going to trade some herbs.” Edain, being with another Drykas in the examining area of the little shop that was curtained off, stuck her head out. She smiled a smile that wasn’t far off from Dymphna’s, though the woman was pale-eyed and blond. She gave the two a wave before disappearing once again. “My aunt, Dymphna explained. “I work my apprenticeship under her until I’m married. Then I’ll likely work within my new pavilion.” She led Denen past the main store area, tables and collapsible shelves lined with various bottles, bags, and other medical wonders. A flick of her hand with another curtain led them into the storage room. There were more shelves, more bottles, more herbs drying from strings above their heads. The family worked hard constantly, but it seemed Edain was at least astute at business due to the stock they kept. Dymphna grinned at her friend, an eyebrow lifting up. It was akin to a child in a candy store, and there was a twinkle in her eye that only roots and leaves could inspire.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Dymphna grinned at her friend, an eyebrow lifting up. It was akin to a child in a candy store, and there was a twinkle in her eye that only roots and leaves could inspire. Denen smiled to Dymphna and fought back the urge to hug her tightly. She was so terribly sweet, and he was grateful to have her understanding. He laughed with her as they walked along, the two of them giggling like little girls, bumping hips playfully. Denen hadn't had a friend like Dymphna before. Or friends like either of them, when he thought of it. Sama'el and Dymphna were both one of a kind, and the young Brokensong would have preferred it no other way. There was a familiarity about the Whitefeather Pavilion, as it was set up and seemed to run much like his own. He watched the others as they moved on, smiling as he imagined members of the Brokensong Pavilion doing various tasks of hat sort. It wasn't too difficult, given the common nature of their families. He watched Dymphna call out for her aunt. He said nothing, but stood still, his arm looped through Dymphna's, so that they were standing comfortably. Denen smiled to the woman who looked out. It amazed him to think that someone might look so very similar within a Pavilion, as he didn't exactly look like anyone in his own. He had been told, growing up, that he looked like his mother, but she wasn't around to compare himself to, and as he looked nothing like his father, he could only assume it to be the truth. Denen nodded his understanding, thinking that Sam's little Pavilion would be blessed to have Dymphna as a healer. He made a mental note to seek her for advice, should he be so lucky as to become part of their family. Denen could smell the herbs before he saw them, and he shivered happily. It was a smell he had come to associate with comfort and family, one he had known all of his life, and he felt immediately at home in the little store room. His blue eyes tried to soak in everything and once, which had a rather dizzying affect, but left a breathless smile on his face. He couldn't help himself. This was the thing he loved best. “Don't you love the way they smell?” He asked with a grin. “I think that is one of the best parts about healing. The way things smell.” He laughed again, and stood in awe of full shelves and pretty, dried herbs.