An Almost Broken Fast

[Oresnya Cacao]

Spring the 31st, 519 AV

Food. Oresnya’s thoughts were consumed by it. Any food she had ever had sprang to mind along with ones she had just imagined too. Some of them made no sense, and no reasonable person would think they sounded tasty. Five days. Five days of self-imposed starvation had taken any sense of reason or logic from her. All she wanted was something to fill her stomach.

Early on, she had tried to trick her body into thinking it was full by drinking copious amounts of water. It had worked but only at the start. After two days, true hunger had set in and wouldn’t allow her to forget it. Water wasn’t working any more.

Five days without food. Five days of ever growing weariness, weariness like she had never understood it. The body needed food. Every living creature understood that, was driven by it in their basest of selves. Only a fool would deny it, but Oresnya was trying to be driven by higher ideals, by altruism. Altruism was foolish. But her starvation could bring some much needed aid to the Endal if they decided to hunt the beast. But every day, weakness of the day before was added to by the new day and the continued need for food not provided. Every day sapped her strength a little more.

But worse than the weariness was the temptation to give up, to eat again. Every day chipped away at her altruism a little more. Five days of temptation told her that no one would do the same for her, that these people didn’t deserve her benevolence.

All she wanted to do was eat.

And she couldn’t, so she thought of eating instead. She was so lost in thoughts of food that shouldn’t exist that she didn’t see the two big men barring her path, but Bob, her appointed monitor, saw them and grabbed Oresnya’s shoulder, pulling her to a halt before she could collide with the large, unmoving men. She was about to ask why he’d stopped her when she saw them. One thought crossed her mind, and that was that these men were not here for her benefit. Cruelty or hate or something very similar to one or the other or both burned in their eyes.

Thoughts of food evaporated from Oresnya’s mind. She was in danger, though she didn’t know what she’d done to put herself there.

Bob saw it too and tried to head the situation off before it could escalate. Stepping around Oresnya, he began a short and heated conversation with the two men in Nari far too quick for Oresnya to comprehend. What she could tell was the tone of the conversation and that it was not going well. Each comment Bob made only brought a more heated response from the men. Finally, one of them seemed to have enough and, shoving Bob against the nearest wall, ended the argument with a gruff threat and a finger pointed in the Chiet’s face. Bob’s face fell, and he held up his hands in a sign of submission. After that, the man let Bob go.

Before he took off down the hall, Bob whispered to her quickly. “I’m sorry, Widow. They outrank me. There’s nothing I can do. Don’t fight them. Save that for where you’re headed.”

She had questions for him, but he was gone before she could chirp the first word out. A heavy hand grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her in the opposite direction. They half-dragged, half-walked her through many halls, always seeming to climb upwards for the better part of a bell until they walked out of the caverns on to an open side of Mt. Skyinarta.

If she hadn’t felt so threatened, she would have reveled in the beauty of the place. Mt. Skyinarta was imposing from a distance, but when one was up against its side looking up, only then could its devastating majesty be truly appreciated. Sheer, rocky cliffs rose up to threaten the sky on one side and dropped away to meet the insignificant earth below. Looking out, one could see as far as their eyes would allow. But Oresnya wasn’t looking out, or up. Her eyes stared resolutely forward, or at least, it was her intention to appear that way. In truth, she was panicking, but she didn’t want them to see that. She was too nervous to look to either side, so she plodded on, hoping their journey would end soon. This much walking would not have tired her normally, but…

Five days. Five days without sinking her fangs into something made the glands in her cheeks ache. Every few bells or so, a dot of venom leaked from one fang or the other, and its potency made her entire mouth tingle. A small part of her, a more feral part, considered sinking her teeth into one of these captors, but the greater whole, the wiser whole, knew that would not end well for her.

So she stumbled along until they reached a crowd of cheering people. As they moved closer to the tiered seats, the subject of their cheers could be seen. In a circular depression in the ground, two Inarta were brawling each other. Both were bleeding, one from a cut above his eye and the other from a cut on his lip. The people present in the seats were all standing, half in an uproar when one of the men had the upper hand and switching back and forth as the advantage changed. She watched for nearly half a chime before it occurred to her as to why she was there.

They wanted her to fight.

Immediately, Oresnya tried to break free, but one of the men holding her arms squeezed. It would have been enough to make a regular person uncomfortable, but for her light Symenestra frame, the pressure came close to breaking her bone. Ceasing her struggling, she relaxed a little as the man let the pressure off.

[Oresnya Cacao]

Oresnya had no clue who would want to fight her, her specifically as a person.  For being a Symenestra, she imagined most people would fight her for that alone.  But this had a personal feel to it.  She had purposely been hunted down for the sake of being brought here.  Her eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face while a silent prayer went out to Viratas.
 
Viratas, god of my family, god of my blood,
 
Give me deliverance.  I came here, because you taught me my family is important above all.  I have not yet had the opportunity to honor them, to find someone to preserve Yora’s memory here.  Pausing when she realized that was not the truth, she corrected herself.  I have been too afraid to begin looking, but if I die here today, Yora’s memory dies with me.  I don’t want that for her.  She deserves better.  She deserves more from me.
 
As if through some great providence, a face appeared among the gathered people that Oresnya recognized.  She was one of Felicity’s apprentices, a woman whose name Oresnya couldn’t recall.  The truth was Oresnya had never learned the woman’s name.  She hadn’t learned any of their names, because none of them liked her, all of them despised her.  In fact, Oresnya would have been surprised if the woman would have given her name even if Oresnya had asked.  But it was a familiar face, and that was all that mattered.
 
Oresnya tried to raise her hand to wave to catch the woman’s attention, but the two men holding her refused to let her arms go.  Sweat was already making the back of her wrapped top wet.  Her blood was pounding in her ears, and her breath was short.  Everything she did to calm herself didn’t work.  She couldn’t face anyone in that arena.  A fist fight could easily become a fight to the death for a Symenestra.  Blows that would only bruise another person could break her bones.  Enough breaks in the wrong places could easily kill her.  Symenestra didn’t fight hand to hand.  If they fought, they did so from a distance, though most preferred not to fight at all.  Oresnya had to get the woman’s attention before someone forced her into the ring with someone else.
 
Through a second instance of providence, the woman’s eyes left the fight and wandered the crowd.  The Inarta woman’s progress was slow as she searched for something or someone in particular.  Twice, the woman’s eyes returned to the fight, and she even cheered once as one of the men landed a stunning blow to his opponent.  Each time though, her eyes returned to their search, picking up where they had left off.  Closer and closer they came to Oresnya, but she was convinced the woman wouldn’t see her in time.  One man had gained the upper hand and was showing no signs of giving it up. The fight was near its end. Finally though, her fellow seamstress saw her, and a smile came to the Inarta’s face.

But it was not the smile Oresnya had been hoping for. Malice-ridden, it was more of a sneer than a smile. Any hope Oresnya had died. This was not providence. It was a curse. The gods or fate or nothing whatsoever hated her. One thing she knew for certain was that the woman watching her did. What she didn’t know was why.

Another cheer went up, this one louder than any before it. There was a sense of finality to it, and Oresnya tore her eyes away from the other woman in time to see one fighter pulling the other to his feet. Both were bloodied, but both were smiling as well. Laughing, the two men hugged each other and moved to the edge of the ring to clean the blood off their faces. There would be no embracing when Oresnya’s fight was over. They would only be digging a grave, if they didn’t just throw her off the mountainside to save on time and space.

When Oresnya turned back, she found the woman had already made it to her side. The malice seemed deeper now.

Oresnya could only think of one intelligent question, so she asked it. “Why?”

“Because you’re a threat to my position.”

All Oresnya caught was the word threat. Her confusion must have shown, because the woman went on.

“Felicity smiled at your work. I saw it.”

Oresnya hadn’t, but that didn’t matter. The woman was convinced Oresnya was trying to take her place as Felicity’s apprentice. The truth was Felicity only trusted her with Deks’ clothing. She wasn’t even allowed to touch the clothing of any higher caste.

“All she does is hound me and criticize everything I do.”

Oresnya was terrified. This woman had it out for her. She was about to try to talk the woman down when a man called out from beside the ring.

“Hurry up! We wanna see you beat the shit out of a widow.”

Before Oresnya knew it she was being shoved into the ring, and the woman followed close behind her.

Holding up her hands in a sign of submission, Oresnya tried to worm her way out of the fight. “I don’t want to take your position. I just want to be useful. I don’t want to fight.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Adrenaline was pumping through Oresnya, but it could only do so much. Her body was working on depleted stores. She had no reserve to draw on. Still, instinct and terror went a long way.

The first punch the Inarta threw was a wide haymaker, and Oresnya reacted as quickly as she could, following the first rule of Symenestra fighting. Don’t get hit. Her head ducked back out of the reach of her assailant, so much so that she almost lost her balance. She flailed her arms to keep herself from falling backwards, but the motion ate up precious time. The woman followed with a second jab straight at Oresnya’s ribs. As off kilter as she was, Oresnya couldn’t avoid the blow. A stab of pain lanced through her chest as the fist landed heavily against her ribcage.

[Oresnya Cacao]

Oresnya scrambled backward. To call it a scramble was attributing far more grace to the action than it deserved. It was a stumble, drunken and without aim. There was no thought in Oresnya’s mind, just an instinct driving her away from the imminent danger. Breath wouldn’t come, not in its entirety. Each breath would begin, but as her lungs expanded, her rib cage spread.

Pain was pure. It didn’t judge. It came to all. It came as it was. There was no waxing or waning without cause. Right now, it came to Oresnya. Every breath caught at a point near its start, leaving her taking short gasps.

Fortune of one sort or another was on her side. Her opponent was soft. The other woman had lived the comfortable life of a seamstress. Fabric work required skill, but there was little strength needed. Along with that, the Inarta’s place in her society had offered her protection. She had never had to fight for her place. Until now. She had never fought anyone. Not that Oresnya had been in many fights herself, but the other woman’s lack of experience showed in the strike she delivered. It was inelegant, lacking in coordination. What the Inarta didn’t fall short on was hate. However misplaced it was, hate and rage worked together, and the blow had been enough to crack a rib.

The woman followed her, hands balling into fists. She could tell Oresnya was hurt and wanted to cause as much pain as she could before this was over. Another punch swung at Oresnya’s head. This time, the Symenestra ducked forward beneath the fist, cutting the distance between them.

Symenestra didn’t fight with fists. Fists were a human invention, unrefined in the art of harm. The truly deadly creatures of the world fought with tooth and nail. Spreading her fingers wide, she lashed her hand across her opponent’s belly. Vinati weren’t designed to protect the midriff. Black nails as hard as stone ripped through the skin of Oresnya’s attacker, creating four parallel bloody streaks.

Oresnya tried to put some distance between them, but the wound had only served to anger her attacker. The pursuit was on, and no matter how deep her fear ran, it could not overcome her weariness. Her muscles were sluggish, responding far after her mind had told them to do something

She had to get away. She had to keep space between them. She had to, but her body wouldn't listen. Oresnya urged her legs to drive off the earth, to sprint, but the result was not what it should have been. Her leg moved, sure, but it was a slow motion, her toe tips catching and dragging the bare stone ground. Every step pushed her half the distance it should have, and Oresnya felt as if she was running through sand. She needed to move faster. She needed to create the distance. She had to-

A fist crashed into the side of her ribs as the Inarta cut the distance between them quickly, and two more fists to her ribs brought Oresnya to the ground. Her breath already wouldn’t come, but three sharp kicks to her belly drove any remaining breath out of her lungs.

“I’m going to show everyone just how useless you are,” the woman hissed, punctuating the sentence with the kicks to Oresnya’s gut.

Terror ran through Oresnya now, so much that gods and goddesses were forgotten. Only fear remained, that primal and saving instinct. But her body was broken. And even worse, it was spent. It had nothing left to give her. Five days of starvation. Five days of Hai. For what? To die in a fight over nothing. She tried to crawl away, but the woman rolled her on to her back forcefully with a none too gentle foot against her ribs.

[Oresnya Cacao]

There was a comfort in a face. It allowed one to recognize a friend, to identify and pull to mind the bonds that existed with another. Even if a face wasn’t familiar, the fact that a face existed identified the person wearing it as a fellow human being facing the same world as the person watching the face. Faces carried emotion. In the lines and curves and elegant twisting changes lay the secret to the feelings harbored within the heart behind the face. Love. Sorrow. Happiness. These were all things that bound strangers together.

But there were none of those in the face glaring down at her. There was only one thing Oresnya could identify. Hate. There was no comfort and no bond in such a thing. It only served to identify the face carrying it as a predator, hungry to satisfy itself, to gain the vengeance it thought it needed.

Oresnya wanted away from this face, so she pushed her heels into the ground to try to scoot away. It was a feeble attempt, and the other woman quickly straddled Oresnya, her weight not letting the Symenestra go any further. A hand moved toward Oresnya’s face, and Oresnya flinched, twisting her head to one side to try to soften the blow she was sure was coming and lifting her hands to try to place something between her and the Inarta. The blow never came. When it still didn’t come after several ticks, Oresnya looked back up at the face above her. What she found was that it had become even crueler. The anger had melted away into a smirk of satisfaction. In that moment, Oresnya realized the Inarta had found something to do to her that would be worse than what Oresnya had thought was coming. She wasn’t sure what was worse than death, but she was sure she didn’t want to find out.

Placing her hands against the other woman’s midriff over the cuts her fingers had just made, Oresnya tried to push the woman off of her, but five days of hunger had made her weak. Even if she hadn’t been weakened, Oresnya probably wouldn’t have been able to topple the other woman. The position she was in gave her no leverage, and the other woman easily outweighed her. Even as the thought of the futility of it all sank into her mind, the Inarta grabbed Oresnya’s left hand with both of hers.

She repeated what she had said before. “I’m going to show everyone just how useless you are.”

There was a brief moment when realization sank in, an instant between the words and the deed that allowed Oresnya’s dread to reach its peak. The apprentice meant to make Oresnya completely useless at her profession. Oresnya’s hands in hers proved as much. The Inarta meant to break them.

There had been the words, then the realization for just a moment, before the very real pain of the thing happening ripped her awareness of it all away. Pain screamed through her ring finger as her attacker wrenched it sideways and backward. In that moment, it was the truest pain she had ever felt or ever remembered feeling, though it was the freshest one as well, making it the most vivid. In its freshness, it was the worst she had ever encountered, and Oresnya wasn’t sure it could get worse. It did.

Viratas, save me. It was a desperate cry, but desperation was all she had left.

Almost an exact replica of the first pain ripped through her index finger this time. When Oresnya finally stopped screaming, she couldn’t be sure when she had started. Her eyes opened in time to see the Inarta reach for her right hand. Jerking it away from the woman, Oresnya held it flat against the ground over her head, desperate to keep one hand uninjured, but her attacker went for it anyhow. As the Inarta reached forward and grabbed Oresnya’s wrist, her torso leaned forward. The vinati were as good at protecting shoulders as they were the midriff. Oresnya wasn’t so much aware of this fact as she was of the fact that there was exposed skin just above her face.

Lunging her head upward, Oresnya bit into the soft flesh where the Inarta’s left breast met her shoulder, feeling her fangs sink deep into the tissue beneath and then the exquisite sensation of the glands squeezing in her cheeks to drive venom through the hollows of her canines that sent a tingle down her spine to the base of her tailbone.

“Bitch.”

The Inarta woman cursed and shoved Oresnya away from her. A moment later, the woman’s fist met Oresnya’s nose, and the crunch that followed guaranteed something broke. But Oresnya lay back and let a smile slip over her face. Blood and its one-of-a-kind scent filled her nose and, as it drained backwards, wet her mouth with its taste. She smiled, because Viratas had heard her. He was here, because blood was here. He was in the blood of the woman she had tasted. He was in her blood.

In the midst of this revelation and the pain in her face and fingers, Oresnya barely registered the Inarta woman’s sudden scream. Oresnya knew her venom was already working, dissolving tissue away. Attempting to free herself from the agony of the Symenestra toxin, the woman fell over on her back and clawed at her chest with weak human claws. Oresnya watched in dumbfounded fascination, knowing the woman’s efforts would never work, not until the skin began to slough away due to the venom itself. Inarta flooded the ring, none of them sure what was happening. Last they had seen, their fellow Inarta was winning the fight.

Oresnya was barely aware of the two pairs of hands that lifted her to her feet and directed her quickly away from the scene. Five days of hunger were meaningless. Next to the pain and the satisfying fact that pain meant she had survived, five days of starvation and weakness melted away. Her feet fell confidently, though her eyes were beginning to swell shut, and the long walk deeper into the mountain was over before she knew it.

Voices talked around her, but Oresnya kept her eyes closed against the pain.

A voice Oresnya didn’t know came first. “She should go directly to the Infirmary.”

“They won’t want her there.” This was a familiar voice, Bob’s.

“Why not?” The first voice again.

“She bit someone. Bit them and released poison,” Bob explained.

“Damn it.” The voice was Leo’s this time. “All of that time might be wasted for nothing. You’re right though. She won’t be safe at the Infirmary. They might just kill her outright instead of treating her. We’ll have to do what we can here.”

“I’ll do what I can, but don’t expect miracles,” the first voice again. “Hold her still. I have to reset her nose.”

Two pairs of hands grabbed her, each one pinning her back by holding her upper arm flat against the cot she had been led to. Another hand laid itself over her nose, then shifted quickly. The pain flared again freshly, and Oresnya found herself gasping against it.

“Can we give her something for the pain?” Bob again.

Leo responded. “I have something that will work.”

In another moment, Oresnya found a canteen being held to her lips and forced inside, and a liquid trickled in, oddly complimenting the taste of the blood that was already there. It only took a few chimes. Soon, Oresnya felt as if she was spinning or the world was spinning or the air itself was spinning. She couldn’t be sure which.

And then she was waking up, the deep throb in her face and fingers deadened somewhat by whatever she had been given to drink. The world was still shifting some, and Oresnya couldn’t be sure if it was the drug or another earthquake.

She groaned and sat up. Immediately, a pair of hands was at her good arm, guiding her up. A quick glance through her half-swollen-shut eyes told her it was Eshryd. There was a worried look in the Dek’s eyes, and it didn’t leave when Oresnya tried flashing her a reassuring smile. The smile was gone quickly as Oresnya realized sitting up had been a bad plan. She was dizzy though the shifting was due to another quake.

Lying back down, she held up her painful left hand and noticed the thick bandage that had been placed there. Something had been done to it that didn’t allow her to flex her fingers. That was probably for the best as any small attempts to do so only brought more pain. Oresnya closed her eyes and felt the drug dragging her back to sleep as a cold wash cloth was gently placed against her forehead and the bridge of her nose. The Symenestra went willingly under the drug’s influence, knowing she would be in the good hands of the mute Dek.

[Solstice]

Grades are here!

Oresenya Cacao

XP Award:

• +4 Observation
• +1 Socialization
• +1 Persuasion
• +2 Acrobatics
• +2 Unarmed Combat

Lore:

• Location: The Fighting Pits
• The Physical and Mental Strain of Self-Imposed Starvation
• Oresenya: Hated By Her Fellow Apprentices
• Symenstra: First Rule of Fighting - Don’t Get Hit
• Symenstra: The Effects of Toxin on Human Flesh

Rewards and Penalties:

• Cracked Ribs for Five Weeks
• Broken Hand for Three Weeks
• Broken Nose for Two Weeks

Note: Brutal. I loved it. Great writing as always. Let me know if there’s anything I missed.