Way to be Unwelcome (Malah)

[Jilitse]

Way to be Unwelcome 22nd of Spring 511 AV What is that dead thing doing here? A few days earlier... The desert had not been unkind, but neither was it welcoming. As soon as Jilitse, a Nuit searching for the history of Saghal Hrinn, and Jasa'lah, a Benshiran atoning for his mistakes, crossed the borders of Eyktol, they were met by the heat and endless sea of burning sand. Jilitse's mare, Mountain Pony, was obviously unfamiliar with the sand. Jilitse had to hold on tight to the reins and her saddle horn in order to prevent herself from falling off her horse. It was hard for her to ride, Nuits were not built to bump and bounce on top of horses. They had to travel slowly, oftentimes picking up their pace meant trouble: They made it no more than a few miles into the desert when their wagon decided to slowly bury itself in the sand. Traveling became difficult as their heavy wagon rolled deep, and they had to make a stop. Jasa'lah had been silent since they entered Eyktol, still bearing his unforgivable mistake. He came to Syliras last year in order to research on agriculture, but instead, he fell in love with a ravka, a non-Benshiran woman, called Hibby, who led him to lies and betrayal. Now he had to figure out how he would repay the money and valuables he lost, that is, if his tent would welcome him back. Jilitse rubbed her arm along MP's neck, in an attempt to comfort her mare. The horse had been burdened with the task to pull their wagon, which contained their supplies for the long journey to Yahebah. "Jasa'lah," Jilitse called out to the Benshiran, "Jasa'lah." She bid MP to stop tugging at the reins. Jasa'lah mindlessly moved forward, and it was only after a few moments of not hearing the wagon's squeaky wheel did he stop and turned. "Oh, why'd you stop Jilitse?" His face was wiped off of the stagnant worry, "You said we must not be delayed by unnecessary things." "You are correct," Jilitse answered, regaining composure and adjusting her posture on top of her horse, "But it seems you me you are too preoccupied with thoughts. I cannot let us move forward blindly, just because the guide decided to dream in the day light." The Benshiran was quick to dismiss the accusation, "We are following the right path, Ahnatep is right over there." He pointed straight to the direction they were facing. "Yes, I assume that as you know more about Eyktol than me," She tugged at MP, who seemed to be uncomfortable about stopping in broad scorching daylight. "But you look more dead than I am, and quite frankly you haven't been your jolly self since we entered the desert." She acquiesced to MP, who was edging forward. Jilitse maintained good control of their direction and MP thudded her hooves against the sand carefully. "Will it help if we started talking about what you'll do when you reach Yahebah?" "Me?" There was a good amount of nervousness in the question, "Why'd you say that?" "You still have the burden of explaining to your family what happened with their gold. You're going home with less than what they expected, and it is quite obvious that you're worried. Aren't you?" The question was flat, but Jasa'lah knew that his conflict must have been too obvious for Jilitse, who always seemed insensitive and callous when it came to other people, to make such an observation. "I... I'll admit." He said, and they continued to move forward. "The closer we move to our tents, the greater the fear in my heart." "You were the one who taught me a thing or two about faith." She said, raising her brows at him. Brown eyes met blue eyes, trying to connect on a more personal level. She continued, "Why worry now, when you've covered more than half the distance?" He paused and slumped on top of his horse, "Well Jilitse, it feels like this," Jasa'lah sometimes emphasized certain words to hint at their differences. The Nuit found herself smiling indulgently, Jasa'lah always assumed that with a dead heart comes dead emotions. "I disobeyed my father, I ignored Yahal's warnings, I placed my trust upon a human who was obviously up to no good, and here I am facing the consequences of my decision. I have decided to atone for my sins, but if my father learns that I even considered marrying a ravka, he will never welcome me back." "A ravka?" Jilitse asked, noticing that the man had revealed details that he had not told her before. She didn't want to press him, but she wondered why Jasa'lah was now claiming to have sinned. Hibby was the merchant who stole his money, was she the ravka he was speaking about? Was ravka Shiber for what word? Her eyes narrowed as she mixed the incoherent details in her mind. Jasa'lah did not respond, obviously caught unaware that he had revealed too much to Jilitse. He knew that the Nuit had excellent memory, and would catch the tiniest of his lies. He had previously omitted details about his mistakes in Syliras, details that were too important to let a stranger know. He didn't want to part with his secrets, not just yet, not until he finds himself worthy of forgiveness. Jilitse caught his hesitation and told him, "I will not ask no more if it is not for me to hear." She requested, "I only would like you to concentrate on your job for once." She reminded him, "I paid you to get me to Yahebah, after all." Jasa'lah gave her a frown, which turned into a laugh, "I apologize, I forget sometimes." Jilitse was a customer. But being around her, though she might be reserved and somewhat disconnected from the world, had made him feel at ease. Perhaps too comfortable. He guessed it must be because of her mark from Priskil--if an undead could hold onto hope, then why couldn't he?

[Jilitse]

And he was ight after all, Ahnatep was ahead of us. Jasa'lah brought his horse next to Mountain Pony, riding at the same pace as Jilitse and the wagon. "There are a few things you should know about Ahnatep..." Jil listened, this was the 57th time Jasa'lah was to mention his warnings. The undead knew, her taintless memory would allow her to count what was been said, again and again and again. She had lived far longer than she should, and was somewhat used to the way humans would often reiterate something that has already been said before. Perhaps it is with this particular trait that Jil often intertwined patience and boredom. She recited everything from memory, "That they are unkind to anyone not Eypharian, and undead are on an even worse caste as Benshiran." She mumbled, "Trust me, I know the history. Ahnatep was part of Alahea after all." "Bah," Jasa'lah let go of his frustration. "I'm just looking out for you. Stay close, and try not to stand out." "I cannot say that the undead could perfectly blend in among a sea of six-armed people." "Just, don't do anything unless I permit you to." "Ha ha," She sarcastically laughed, "You treat me so well, I feel like my payment had you undervalued. I hired you as a companion, not as a bodyguard." "Thank me later." "If you say so." And they talked no more the moment they entered the city of Ahnatep. Jilitse took in the sand and luxury of the place, eyes darting to and fro from one street to another. To an Eypharian, an obvious Benshiran garbed in the same clothes as Jasa'lah, carrying pottery, to the patrolling guards she would later learn to be called Jackals, your occasional Dhani. She eyed the architecture, rectangular walls and patios adorned lavishly, tapestries and decorations one would call extravagant. and how it all melds into a city that withstood the Valterrian. "Mesmerized, are we?" She ignored Jasa'lah, and listened to the drone of voices. People spoke in Arumenic, though she was able to pick up Shiber, and heavily accented common. She avoided the eyes that stared back at her: most of them indignant, inquiring, imposing. "I will find us a place to stay for the night, though be warned that we are..." "Not very welcome." Jil spoke softly, "The people here creep me out, and that's an understatement. "Get used to it, if it's not your skin they hate, it's the guts you have. It's bad enough that you're traveling with a Benshiran. You have an unusual ride, you are an undead, and you have a wagon. Many would think unkind of all these things." He acknowledged a passing man, exchanged pleasantries. He must have inquired about their whereabouts. While Jil waited, she stroked the head of her horse. MP complained about the heat, but was not willing to yield to the fatigue. A passing Eypharian bumped into them and --- It was then when the horse collapsed, sending Jil to reel backwards and fall badly from the horse. She sustained no bruises, but she felt her left arm crack when she used it to break her fall. Her azure cloak rolled and flapped around her, shielding her skin from breaking a wound. Jasa'lah was quick to assist her. She cried from the pain, muttering incomprehensible Nader Canoch - she was swearing, nonetheless, the ancient accent kicking in. She did not realize that she had been using her native tongue, not until Jasa'lah shook her. The man quickly inspected her corpse, and asked where it hurt. "Everywhere hurts," she winced. Injuries were the most unpleasant things for Nuits. And most undesirable, given the fact that Ahnatep was what it is, it was impossible for Jil to find a replacement body. She had to be careful. "My horse just... kneeled." Their wagon had tipped over, their items in disarray. The random passing man left them, possibly an effort to save his hide from whatever misfortune the undead and her companion carried. With some assistance, Jil was able to pull herself up to stand, though her left shoulder was dislocated and - she could tell - there was a cracked bone in the same arm. She inspected MP, whose breathing was out of beat. She had no time to recuperate from the shock of it when Jasa'lah cried, "Our horse has been bitten by a snake in its hind leg!" It took a moment to figure things out, and where the pulser instinct of panic should have kicked in, undead logic calculated: "Where do we take her?" MP was starting to give up, braying, head trashing. She took it badly, what with the odious journey - a snake bite was the last thing the horse needed. But if only they had been paying attention, a particular Eypharian had been watching them from afar, smiling. Not that it would matter. Who did it and why was out of the question. Jasa'lah wasted no breath, and started to release the horse from its reins, removing the saddle and disconnecting the ropes to the wagon. He spoke quickly, "I am not familiar with Ahnatep, not with its specialty stores. I have no idea where to find a veterinarian, at least one that would look at your horse." He made effort to calm the horse down by speaking to it in hushed tones. "At that rate I am just as clueless as you are. We cannot move our items without a horse, and I will use mine for the meantime. An inn should not be too far away, and if one is not available I will make way to the nearest stable. Jil, try to ask around for help. Avoid Eypharians because they'd rather watch your horse grovel and die. That is, if you can even find one who can talk to you." Jasa'lah's panic had been understandable. He owned most of the luggage, and - if it came to their order of importance - a 50 gm mountain poney did not amount to 300 gm worth of goods. Jil was not beyond worry, though she had confidence that Jasa'lah would at least be able to secure her own belongings, as well. The animal was her responsibility now, and it required her immediate attention. She actually wanted to see to its health. But how? The she-corpse fell back onto the one thing that help her upright. In her mind, she replayed Priskil's voice. "Lives come first, Jilitse." And with this, her friendship mark from Priskil glowed. She channeled this power and spilled it towards her fingers. Th glow embraced her bandaged hand, and she reached out to the horse. It worked before on people, and should work with animals just the same. She spoke to her horse, "There, there." MP was rolling its eyes. To Jasa'lah, she said, "I am worrying that this is no ordinary snake bite. I am unfamiliar with the desert and its creatures. But I have at least heard of poisonous snakes." She kicked away the fret and willed Priskil's ability to stand ground in the midst of adversity. "Hold on, MP, I will get you help. We will find you help."With that, she was sure. She stared at her horse's eyes, met with a soul unwilling to die just yet. "I am holding on," she whispered, stroking the horse's head with her well arm, hand faintly glowing, "So hold on with me." If it were not for the bandage, the light would have shined around her hand brightly. For the hopeful gathers strength where others quit, and finds refuge where others cannot. Still, MP wouldn't survive on faith and hope alone. The undead swept her eyes around, trying to see if the commotion had attracted anybody's attention.

[Kalasshmalah]

Malah had been doing some unimportant task that she could scarcely remember when word traveled through the streets that a Nuit was making it's way through the city. Interest piqued, she had stopped what she was doing then and there, and made her way towards the commotion. Various people wandered the streets, most keeping their distance from the wagon, afraid to be "grouped" with such low beings. Malah never put much into the workings of the classes, so this didn't bother her overmuch. She stood, all of her just under five foot, close to the wagon in human form. Her desert sand coloured robes hiding much of her body, and with the hood pulled close. She stuck out of the crowd, who were all sporting varying amounts of jewelry. That she was also openly curious and approached them didn't help any blending in either. Not saying anything, she walked alongside them, about ten feet away. Indulging her curiosity with only her eyes, she looked over the odd traveling companions. What would bring a Nuit to travel with a Benshiran, through a city neither are welcome in? she thought to herself. She studied the girl on a pony, all the rotting flesh, wondering if it could perhaps be used in some kind of poison. Her train of thought crashed, however, when a man made his way up to the pair. Seeing a man exchanging pleasantries with the Benshiran got Malah suspicious. It was unlikely for anyone to talk to these strangers, they'd never be able to wash the filth off their self. She was rewarded with seeing an Eypharian sneak up behind them and force a snake to bite the horse. In the ensuing commotion the man and his companion got away safely, though Malah got good look at the snake, and knew it wasn't one of the poisonous species. Caring little as to who actually did this, she looked back towards the girl and her companion. The Benshiran had wondered off to gather up what he could salvage from their supplies Excellent, she is alone now. The Nuit was...talking to the horse? It seemed rather odd that she would try to speak to the animal, it's not like it could possibly understand her. She seemed to be trying to comfort it nonetheless. A faint glowing drew the attention of her eyes next, and startled her so bad that she jumped. What in the names of the gods was this thing doing to the horse? Collecting herself, she approached the Nuit. "What are you doing to the horsse? If you're going to kill it off, I'd be happy to eat it for you." she said in common with a cold grin and a little tinkling laugh, while pointing to the glow.