Best of Luck (Sama'el)

[Issima]

87th Summer, 511 av. It was another day. Not unlike the last, or the one before it. Summer was a time of plenty, a time of beauty, and for so many years of Issima's life it had been her favorite season. That was before all had been lost, though. Death was hardly uncommon in the harsh Cyphran embrace she and her people lived within, and mourning had an appropriate time and place. If Issima had lost her mother, she would have mourned. If she had lost her father, she would have done the same. But how did one synthesize losing everything? In a place where family was so crcual, so important to everyday life, to identity, to existence, how was she supposed to just move beyond that? And so she hadn't mourned. Not really. She had simply carried on. Doing the things she had always done to help out around the pavilion she now called home, the pavilion that had been a favorite place to visit, the home of a beloved cousin. She worked, she ate, she slept, she tended the children. She simply.. did. Whatever came next, whatever was required of her. But something was missing. Issima imagined that she had fallen out of the web, somehow, when her pavilion had been lost. She knew it wasn't so, but she would stand and stare at the open fields beyond her and imagine the mystical threads all connecting, joining, creating something of beauty that ebbed and flowed around her but, now, excluded her. That feeling of isolation extended to the distant family with which she now resided. They treated her kindly, perhaps even with a small measure of pity, but gone were the glowing bonds that had compelled her to spend so many weeks playing in the shadows of their tents. Issima felt as if she had been cut off, somehow. As if she had died with them, too, and it was simply a mistake that her body still walked the grasslands. For all of her emotional disconnect, though, Issima was gentle at heart, and kind. She wanted to harm her surrogate family no more than she had wished to lose her real one, and so she did a very good job at disguising the numbness she simply couldn't chase away. She smiled with them, laughed with them, and did her very best to blend into the bright, passionate vibrancy that was life amongst happy Drykas. She did not live like a stone, and she felt as though it would have afforded those who cared enough to take her in nothing more than disrespect if she did not strive so fully to give them that. A mirror of her former self. The very best that she could do. The pavilion was a large one, though, and so she often found moments to seek solitude. Issima had once been so inherently, so thoroughly engaged in the heritage of her people. In the lands, the winds, the water, the very essence of existence around them. She had absolutely loved being alive, being Drykas, being herself. The stars had soothed her, the winds comforted her, the solid ground beneath provided assurance. Now it all felt so hollow when she was alone, as if some inherent magic had somehow been lost. But still, in the quiet, she could be something that took far less energy. She could simply be, without worrying if her melancholy was written upon her face. Tonight was such a night. The entire pavilion had been in a buzz, at least the feminine side of things, for two days. The youngest unwed daughter of marrying age, a few years below Issima, had set her eye upon a young man to marry. It was an almost backwards way of going about things, especially since the young man apparently had little to recommend him, but Issima's uncle was a great deal like her own father had been. Loving, sometimes indulgent. And having listened to his child extol the supposed virtues of this fine young man for days, he had eventually gone out of his way to invite the Watchman to share dinner with them. Issima had smiled at her cousin's girlish antics, had helped braid her pretty yellow hair, and wished her the best of luck. So happy was she when the could-be suitor arrived that Menali had hardly noticed when Issi chose to slink away rather than join the meal. Things sounded as if they were going well, at least, as she remained out of sight. There were always children to mind, babies to rock, or things to tidy. She was certainly not without occupation while the family supped and, hopefully, found a way to make Uncle and her little cousin happy. Eventually the party began to break up, though, with the younger of the children trickling in to find their sleep. Once one of the wives had returned as well Issima slipped out, eager for the company of Aponi and the relief of the night air. Aponi, more strong-willed than she felt most days, was not where she had left him tethered. Issima blew in frustration and circled around the path she expected he had taken. She might have been puzzled over how he had managed to free himself, but he managed as much often. She had long since stopped bothering in general, but when it was important that he be on good behaviour and out of sight, she made an attempt. An attempt which he had obviously thwarted. "Aponi, you are worse than a child," she scolded, not without affection, before she could even see him. His quiet snort was enough, such was the connection between rider and strider. As she came around the large wagon ladened with supplies, she found herself face to face with not one, but two beautiful horses. "Oh, you naughty boy," she clucked, reaching out to stroke his strong neck with a fondness that completely undermined her attempt to be stern. "She is beautiful, but who gave you permission to come courting, hmm?" Aponi turned his elegant, beautiful face into her torso and nudged her with a soft whinny. Issima laughed a little, a sound that was more genuine than usual. Aponi was all that was left of her life from before, and he made her feel a bit less empty, a bit less alone. "It seems to be a big night for that, hm? I only hope the poor boy doesn't mind snoring, because Menali is worse than Uncle." Issima turned her bright eyes towards the equine companion Aponi had found for himself. "Hello, new friend," she said softly, even as Aponi lifted his head with a sort of regal pride that made Issima snort. He was like another brother, a best friend, and she couldn't help but know him inherently. His attempts to impress were certainly, well, impressive, but she couldn't help but find amusement in them.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

The golden mare was a sight to see, a queen among Striders, but then she might have been born of Zulrav Himself for all anyone could say. Certainly she had come to her rider out of a screaming storm near the border with Syliras a year ago, and in the following year together, no man or woman had ever come to claim ownership of her, though a Strider chose her own master and she had chosen him. Dohaina did not seem to mind the male attention, and she whickered a welcome to Issima Firesong with all the dignity of a queen holding court. The woman was allowed a brief space of time with her Strider and his new friend before the mare whickered again, this time with more feeling, and she could hear human footsteps behind her. They were a bit uneven as the Firesongs had plied him with liquor, but sure enough, and he would be surer in a saddle than on his own two feet, ironically enough. "Hullo Issi," he said, unaware that she had been introduced with a familiar nickname rather than a full name. "That's a fine fellow you have there, but he should be warned that she is promised to a certain fellow named Arias when she enters estrus, if she does this year, which I hope she does, because a herd would be nice. Even the start of one. Would make me feel like the family was really starting." He seemed jolly enough, though he would rather have been making children himself at the same time as he was building a herd. Two-legged Drykas and four-legged Drykas. Aware that he was on the market now, he was also aware of his market value. The name of his dead pavilion could not be spoken, and while he had a friend as close as a brother and a servant with a daughter, two horses of his own, and a prestigious post with the Watch, he was not yet prime marriage material. Sensing Menali's interest, he was even more keenly aware that her parents had liked him, but were not ready to invest a dowry and their daughter upon a nameless man. Still, he was hopeful. What else could he be and retain his sanity? "You have a lovely family."

[Issima]

The approach of the would-be groom, at least if Menali had her way, made Issima feel as if she had been caught. Doing what, she wasn't certain, but Aponi was entirely out of place, nosing around the beautiful creature that could only have belonged to their guest. She felt that point all the more clearly when Sama'el, as she had heard Menali sigh dreamily far too many times, commented on the overt friendliness of the horse against whom she now leaned. Issima straightened a little and gave Aponi a little nudge with the heel of her palm. Reluctantly he pawed the dusty earth and put a bit more distance between himself and the clearly beloved mare. "Hello, Sama'el," she echoed, politely, as she stepped around her shuffling strider so that there was far less horseflesh between their human interaction. Issima had never actually seen Sam, only heard about him from what she had chalked up to being an incredibly active girlish imagination. No one could be that perfect, after all. At first glance Issima understood exactly why Menali was so smitten with him. Sama'el really was beautiful. In a way that Issi almost thought different. It was somehow more distilled, less rugged, but not in a way that denied him any masculinity. It was an attractiveness that didn't need the backdrop of Cyphran grasslands to appeal, as so very many Drykas seemed to possess. She could imagine that, even without his braids, without the sapphires that seemed navy in the darkness, Sama'el would be pleasant to look at. Even if he lost all of the layers that were so tell-tale as to his heritage, and were planted in a far away land, he would be lovely. Issima, as disinterested as she was, felt as much. She could only imagine how he affected her cousin, who had known nothing of heartbreak and little of pain in her lifetime. Now the endless gushing made sense, as Issima gazed into the softened lines of the young face. She didn't have to ask if he'd had a great deal to drink; it was an inevitability as a guest around her Uncle's fire. His compliment earned him a smile. "My Uncle and his wives work hard to keep everyone happy. It is not unpleasant living with a group of people who care very much about the happiness of one another. Thank you, Sama'el. I trust you enjoyed dinner, then?" As much as she wanted to ask what he thought of Menali herself, she chose not to. Her little cousin would be horrified to know she had missed such an opportunity, but Issima had far more self-control than her giggling relation.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Dohaina began to nuzzle his hand, but it was only to lick at the salt taste that even a napkin could not wash away. Her own personal salt lick smiled at the woman in the ruddy light of the cook fires and camp fires of her pavilion and their neighbors, torches and lanterns like warm, giant stars in their midst. The mare was well-trained; indeed, they seemed to have a sort of communion between them, so well did they work together. She didn't need tying up, nor many commands, intuiting what he wanted from subtle movements of his legs when he rode, and perhaps some sixth strider sense. He himself was slender, but not frail, whipcord muscle over rangy bones, growing slowly more substantial as he continued the slow march toward manhood, though he had been acknowledged a man at seven when his first strider, dead Hasieran, had chosen him. A little fragile still from his summer illness, he was still fit, and in the lower light, he didn't have to squint so against the glare of day. "I hope one day to lead a pavilion as full of love and care," he said, his tone warm, but serious as a prayer. "Yes, supper was delicious, and the company good. I hope it wasn't my presence that sent you off a bit early." He wasn't prying; that would be impolite. But he was concerned, and he was not good at dissembling. His heart beat strong on his sleeve.

[Issima]

Issima demurred towards her horse, hovering just over her shoulder, and stroked him affectionately as the guest responded. All of his hopes were a bit like tiny pricks at Issi's heart, because she had not yet reached the place in her life where she felt as if there was hope again. She didn't dream of regaining anything that was lost because, well, it was gone. She mostly dreamed of escape these days, a journey north. To see places not covered with grass, to exist in a world not so wholly focused on family and lineage. "Oh, no. But yes," she said in contradictory fashion, truthful if confusing. "I like the quiet, and times such as these are the perfect excuse to escape. Menali was single-minded tonight, I assure you, and so slipping from her grasp was easier than usual. I suppose I've just confessed to using you as a distraction, but it wasn't personal." Issima was pleasant, if a bit more sedate than Menali, who was rather pretty. In fact, on mere appearance, Menali was likely the more appealing of the two, with hair the color of sunlight and eyes as blue as the cloudless sky. Menali had a milkier sort of complexion than Issima, who tanned easily and just seemed altogether more earthy than the somewhat pampered cousin who had caused his visit. Menali was also much more outspoken, if a little loud, and a restless sort of spirit. Good at heart, she was incapable of being still or quiet for very long, and so Issima took her company in measured doses. "When I was young my brothers used to love the Great Race. All the weeks of preparation and the endless chatter about it was a bit exhausting, I thought. And so when everyone was finally off to witness the thing, I loved to skip off to the quiet places, the places they had left behind. I could only take so much Great Race, you know?" With a bit of a grin, Issima finished her thought. "There has been much talk of Sama'el these weeks since Menali first encountered you. And a lot of preparation. So perhaps it was a bit personal, then," she said, jest in her voice. "An opportunity to enjoy the quiet places while everyone else was busy with the main event."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I don't mind," he said, laughing. "I've been trying to be of use ever since I returned to Endrykas. Thus the Watch and learning to Web and everything. A few moments of peace and quiet I can manage with ease." He listened to her talk, nodding and smiling, but listening rather than just keeping time with the cadence of her speech. Sama'el had a good heart, was cheerful against all odds, and cared more to hear what other people had to say about themselves than to talk about himself. His flush was a bit obvious even in the light of fires. "I think I might ride in the Great Race next year," he said, knowing he would be up against the very best riders and wanting to win. "And all this marriage business... I want to be married, want to speak my name again, all of it. But I was gone so long, never got to ease my way into the etiquette and the haggling. Then I returned a pauper... But once I joined the Watch, well, now people pay attention. I was not the eldest of my siblings, never really likely to become Ankal. I am not used to the attention. It's almost nice to ride circuit on the Sea, or last season when I fled a broken heart all the way to Riverfall on Watch business..." He glanced at her, wondering if he had said too much, broken some social taboo of which he was not aware. "It's just difficult to be hopeful sometimes... To feel safe in opening your heart. My heart, I mean. Never mind..." He tried to laugh it off. "Too much to drink, I think. I'll be out of your way..."

[Issima]

That Sama'el was apparently such a free talker did not offend the little Firesong, more petite than all of her cousins, who stood in the dull light that spread around them, listening with as much rapt attention as he had afforded her. What he said caught her a bit off guard, perhaps because she could relate all too well to some of it. Initially it made her feel the need to withdraw, the desire to flee the young man who pricked at her with his words, who reminded her too much of things better left unspoken. But then he mentioned traveling, fleeing, both of which resonated with Issima intensely. And then he was laughing off his verbal stumble, turning to leave. Without thinking she reached out to grasp his strong forearm. "Wait!" she objected, perhaps too eagerly. In truth, her lovely eyes were more alight than they had been yet, even as she had the sense to remove her hand and smile a bit sheepishly. "Sorry. I just.. Riverfall? And where were you gone to for so very long? And why? Did you travel alone? You must have been very young." Realizing that her questions had fallen out in a rush that was different from the measured pace with which she had spoken to him before, Issima smiled again, apologetically. "Forgive me, Sama'el. I speak out of turn. It is hardly my place to ask you such things. I just..." she hesitated, trying to find the words. "I wish I could just leave, too."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"No, it's..." he began, taken off guard, liking the strength of her hand on his arm. He smiled, trying to banish the awkwardness. "It's all right. Were... were you asking about Riverfall last season, or my long exile? The former is a short, easy tale. The latter... not so much, and would require more to drink if you don't want me to clam up before the end. "Ahh, I rode to Riverfall last season with a message from the horseclans to the Council, then waited until they prepared a message in response. It was a good thing because the girl I... well, I loved her..." The last consonant of that verb was stressed though there was really no past tense to love. He could pretend, and he could find room in his heart for new loves, but he would not stop loving Dymphna Whitefeather, or whatever her name was now. "She married someone else at her father's behest." He shrugged. "I traveled there with Dohaina, and back with the ghost who now guards the Sanctuary there. "Next season we'll be close to Riverfall. I'll escort you there if you like. A woman shouldn't travel there alone or she's likely to be... impounded to make blue babies."

[Issima]

"I am very sorry," Issima said, sincerity making her face a mask of compassion as she peered up at him. "Loss is very... difficult." Issima dropped her hand from where it rested upon Aponi, who then decided that everything of interest had already occurred where he stood. He began to wander away at a pace that belied the meaningless fashion of his departure. Issima paid him little mind, though she suddenly felt smaller without his lumbering presence behind her. Hazel eyes fixed upon Sam, thoughtful in her own silence. She wanted so very, very much to hear about it, the other story. But, try as she might, she coudln't think of an acceptable way to pull that off. After all, she had chosen to sit out of dinner, to miss his words and company in that group setting. And so she could hardly drag him back to the fires, ply him with more drink, and sit like a rapt pupil while he divulged his tale. And, even if she could, Issi had the feeling that this wasn't a story he'd care to share with a large group. There was Menali to consider, too, who had her heart set on this smiling young man with the pleasant voice. Issima had to measure her interest to be certain her cousin understood that she intended absolutely no competition with the blonde beauty. Because, in truth, marrying Sama'el herself was the very last thing on Issi's mind. But listening to him speak? That she coveted very much, such was the pleasantness of his personality that it attracted her to his company. One could not always have what they wanted, Issima knew that very well. "Perhaps another day then, Watchman," she smiled. "For your story, I mean. Perhaps you will be family soon, and then it would not be so difficult to find the time." As for his offer to escort her to Riverfall, Issima simply did not reply. Not because of disinterest, but rather the opposite. She wanted to squeal and throw her slender arms around his neck and take him up on it at that very moment. But, again, how would Menali cope with her running off with the man she wanted to marry? Family politics had never felt so complicated. And so she tucked it away in her heart, in the same place she'd hidden Uncle's permission to do just that, to travel, if she could find a suitable escort. She would have to walk tiptoes around her cousin's heartstrings to pull this off. "Will you be well to return home, Sam? I'm sure you would be welcome to stay for the night."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

His smile was not insincere, but it was the sort that distanced a person. It was not that he was unwilling to talk about the dread past, but it didn't seem quite appropriate just now and just there. But he knew enough about her own predicament that her words carried a sure empathy, so he nodded. "Another time then," he conceded, but did not speak about the thought of being family. Once left with his heart in his hands, another just left when he was working up the courage to speak about things like forever, and he was twice shy, and unwilling to get his hopes up until certain things were formalized. "I'm sure I can get home, and if I wasn't sure about that, I'd still be sure that Dohaina could get me home. It would look bad if I spent the night here, overwhelmed by drink, the first time I visited." All the same, he wished he could stay by the fire and talk with a fellow survivor, but at the Firesong pavilion, he would not be allowed that privacy. In any case, privacy was a strange issue for the Drykas, who lives together in close quarters with only fabric between them, if that. "On a trip to Riverfall," he said, trailing back to an old thread in the conversation. "I could tell you my story when we go to Riverfall."