Solo Change of the Guard

[Allassanachassanya]

Early morning,
1st Autumn 521 AV
"Speech"
"Others"

She had learnt, when she had first become Thorin's slave, that the best place to get a decent night's sleep was at the base of the forge. Though it was dusty and uncomfortable, on cooler evenings the residual warmth of the giant oven was comforting in the open space of the forge. It never really went cold, even when it wasn't lit. Ssanya had been glad of this. There had been occasions when she had been Belugnir's slave that she had come to regret the mercenary's travelling nature, for it usually meant that the man had been outside, or on the lakeshore, where the air was damp and the forest mist chilled her to the bone. As she was a Dhani from the desert, she had never gotten used to the cold, and she never would.

She missed being Belugnir's slave. He had treated her fairly equally, all things considered. It may have been because he was an outsider, like her. Perhaps he had just not been used to owning someone else. Ssanya had never really figured it out. He had fed her decent meals, and they had gone outside the city's watery boundary more often than not for his job. It had been a bad day when he had finally sold her, and she didn't like remembering going back to the slave ring. She couldn't even remember the reason he'd given. Something trivial. He had probably needed the mizas. Whatever the reason, it had felt like been stabbed in the back, but knowing full well that the act was happening without being able to do a damn thing about it.

She sighed, and pressed herself against the wall of the forge, seeking the warmth. She pressed her palms flat against the stones, then her cheek, then her chest. She painted a pathetic picture, a tiny woman curved like a bow in the darkness of the workshop. Ssanya was long past caring, long past pride in herself and her appearance. Her hair was not unkept, but it was dull and shorter out of necessity for the manual work she did in the workshop. Her hands were dirty, and her clothing was just good enough quality to be presentable to the shop's customers, hard-wearing but ugly.

Tiredness painted bags under her eyes that only good sleep could possibly shift, but she had not had good sleep in a while now. Something was changing, in her mind. Ssanya hadn't yet figured out what it was, but she didn't like it much. Nerves kept her up at night, kept her staring at the ceiling, feeling the roof slowly press down on her, the walls closing in on her in the darkness...

Enough! It was surely Autumn now. Another season changed over, from green to grey. With nothing else to keep her mind occupied, her thoughts wandered. Thorin had some new orders he would be up early for. When should she start the forge going? The Crux was almost finished now, and Janson would be showing some of his gadgets in the window. She had seen the glass being fitted the other day. She wanted to see the creations. They were a good distraction, perhaps if she could see them, and understand them she would feel this need in her, this desperate urge to run.

"Ha, run." She spoke softly under her breath. She often spoke to herself now, when there was no-one else to talk to. "You can't run anywhere. Stop thinking about things you cannot do. Think about the day's work ahead. Think about anything else other than running."

WC: 597

"Meaning Through Death"

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[Allassanachassanya]

"Speech"
"Others"

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She lay there in silence a while, then relaxed into a loosely curled ball. She listened to the scurrying of mice somewhere in the wall cavity, and tried to force herself to sleep, with little effect. The mouse, if that was what it was, seemed extraordinarily loud in the stillness of the night, and soon the little beast's footsteps were all that she could hear. After about half a bell of tossing and turning, she gave up and sat upright. "This is useless." She stared at the patch of floor in front of her, tiredness morphing into a dull anger, compounded by a headache that was building and growing worse with every chime that passed.

As a slave she had very little freedom, but in the darkness of the night the forge was her domain. That infuriating mouse was an invader keeping her awake, and she would vanquish it, along with any of its brethren. "Petch it!" She cursed under her breath, then added a few more colourful curses in Snake-tongue. It was strange to think it, but for so long Ssanya had kept herself bound in her human form. It was because of her fear of being recognised as something alien and other. Fear for her own skin. Belugnir had told her once, or someone had anyway, that Ravokians didn't take kindly to people who weren't human, and she was not human. Sometimes she forgot, to her shame, but she was definitely a Dhani.

With a shake, Ssanya changed, from human to snake. If someone was watching, they would see her clothes seemingly crumple onto the ground, and the head of a brown-patterned snake with hooded eyes peeping out of the neck-hole. She hissed quietly, and tasted the air. Like this, her vision narrowed and became less useful. It was gloomy in the forge, and close to the ground there was even less light. She moved forwards, feeling the cool tiles against her belly, and sensed around her. The forge glowed darkly, the residual heat marking the spot as something to avoid. She moved away, slithering almost silently over the floor, as she approached the wall.

Her eyes flicked over the edge of the wall, trying to find the spot where the mouse might enter, and exit. Using her body as a sensor, she brushed over the edges, tasting ash on her tongue from the forge waste. There were other flavours as well, but Ssanya couldn't identify them. Something tasted like earth, something else like sugar with a hint of acridity. She ignored them for now. After a while of searching, she discovered a small hole that smelled of animal. She froze, and readied herself. She was much too large to enter into the wall space to hunt, to her annoyance, but either way, her family's way to hunt was to lie in wait. That was what she would do.

She readied herself. Her body curled slightly, being careful not to disturb anything in the workshop, and she clenched the muscles in her diaphram. Her body was not used to this anymore, Ssanya thought with dismay. She felt like a stranger in her own body, and it was not a comfortable feeling. Nevertheless, she lay in wait, the heat sensors on the side of her face gently constricting and relaxing as she waited for her prey. Her hearing was not perfect, but lying against the wall she could use touch to augment her hearing as she listened to the indistinct sound of the mouse, or mice, skittering around.

As she lay waiting, her mind cleared for the first time that night. Every thought was focussed on waiting for the mouse. Hers was such a small, insignificant prey, but there was something incredibly freeing about the hunt. For several chimes, she stayed stock-still, her mind and body working in tandem to sense the mouse. Finally, in the darkness of the forge-room floor, she saw the inky-eyed mouse step inquisitively from its tiny hole.

She bided her time, though the temptation was to clamp the irritating thing in her jaws already. The mouse was too close to the wall; if she lunged now, she would only miss it and give it chance to escape. She watched the little creature hesitantly step forwards, its whiskers trembling. Perhaps it could tell that she was there. Just a few more steps... The mouse darted forwards, too close, and noticed the giant snake lying in wait. Ssanya released herself, and lunged. Her muscles were slow to respond, but whether through bad luck on the mouse's part, or good fortune on hers, she caught the little beast in her jaws.

Crunch. She bit down to stop its wriggling, and knocking her head back, swallowed the limp little thing in one gulp. Gods, that was satisfying. Ssanya had satiated herself, and now that the deed was done, she shifted back into her human form ready to relax into sleep. She changed into her clothes once more, and settled back down by the forge.

WC: 829

"Meaning Through Death"

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