Best of Coincidence [Issima]

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

88th Summer, 511 A.V. A good deal of grazing space was always left to the Emerald Clan, who were the masters at breeding livestock. They also bred and trained hunting animals, but those were kept separate for obvious reasons. But even the livestock, dumb, cud-chewing animals, seemed to be well trained, or at least they were docile and obedient. This was proven by the goat following Sama'el home from the Pride, where such livestock were raised. This allowed Sama'el to carefully hold the baby rabbit that he had also bought as a pet for gentle Denen. Their course strayed far away from the Hunter's Allegiance with all the more predatory animals that would be only too happy to rip his purchases to shreds for him. Glancing back to the goat, he smiled and clucked to it, which caused it to hurry for a moment to keep up with him. The goat was definitely going to be for milk only, because the damned animals from the Pride were almost too childlike and endearing to consider for food. But that was no worry; he liked to hunt wild zibri when he wasn't riding circuit for the Watch. This roundabout course from the Emerald Clan's pavilions toward his own camp on the outskirts of the Sapphire Clan's pavilions led him awfully close to the Ruby Clan. It was, perhaps, only coincidence that he saw a familiar figure. Startled, he didn't have time to think that it was inappropriate to wonder whether she was more striking by sunlight or firelight. Well, perhaps he could marry her and her blonde cousin. He certainly wasn't getting any younger and had a pavilion to populate. "Ho, Issi!" he called, but not too loud for fear of startling the baby rabbit. Ledger Note : 1 female goat: 5 gm 1 male baby rabbit: 5 cm

[Issima]

Of all the tasks Issima was assigned in the camp, the one she minded least was tending to one of her cousin's smallest children. The boy had been the most difficult from birth. Colicky, difficult to feed, and a poor sleeper, many had thought he'd never make it. And yet he had lasted for at least four seasons now, and Issima was most fond of his wide eyes and the skinny little legs he had just learned to toddle around on. He was still rather high maintenance for a child, but she never minded being called upon to take him away from the tents, to quiet his tears and give his tired mother some rest. It was such a job with which Issima was occupied at present. They had wandered to the very perimeter of the encampment, where the tot could weave through taller grasses, fall face first into them, and then roll to find Issima hovering, prepared to tickle his giggles into life before scooping him up into ready arms and continuing on with the song his fall had interrupted. This was a pattern they repeated endlessly, or would have, had a newly familiar voice not interrupted the routine. Issima glanced up immediately to find Sama'el walking indirectly towards her, a goat on his heels and a bunny in hand. "Couldn't stay away?" she called back jokingly. Though it had only been the night before when she had made his acquaintance, it somehow seemed like so much longer. Perhaps because Menali had spent the rest of the night prattling on endlessly about Sam, who was only more perfect in her estimation at such a close proximity than across the field. She had found out, inadvertently, that Issima had spoken directly with him and pried for hours. Feeling oddly secretive about their conversation, Issima had generalized until faking sleep at last put the excited blonde off her back. And then Issima had dreamed of Sam, though she couldn't remember clearly what it had been about. Travel, she thought. Travel, because she'd woken up happy. She had never expected to see him so soon, so unexpectedly. It was a pleasant surprise, especially with so much distance betwixt herself and the family at large. Perhaps no one would see to whom she spoke, and she'd not have to endure the inquisition of Menali. "Lovely," she smiled, reaching out to stroke the ball of fluff in hand when he was near enough. The toddler at her feet dropped unceremoniously onto his bottom and began to gnaw on a head of grass.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el's smile for her was warm, and his eyes softened a little at the sight of the toddler. It was a strange thing when a young man felt the need for children so strongly, but perhaps it was also what they represented: the continuance of his pavilion. The goat walked right up to the toddler and began to steal his grass, thinking he had found the sweet stuff. Sam kept half an eye on his new goat, ready to wrestle it away if it inadvertently threatened the little one's safety. When her hand brushed his just the slightest in its effort to pet the baby rabbit, he felt a sort of static electricity that he hadn't felt since walking across that rug in the Syliran tavern and reaching out for a pewter mug. That made his smile go a tad goofy for a moment before he recovered himself. "A happy coincidence?" he asked, though he didn't really believe in those. Perhaps this was the gods' way of saying that he definitely should go to Riverfall next season to talk to Kavala and Riki about horses, Raiha about kestrels. Yes, that. "The goat is for milk and cheese." And, of course, its dried feces could help with fire if other flammable materials were scarce, which happened on the Sea of Grass. There weren't a lot of trees. "The rabbit is a present for a friend. Where are you and this young warrior off to?"

[Issima]

Issi simply smiled through his explanations, her fingers gently ruffling the soft fur between the bunny ears. The thing seemed content enough, safely tucked into Sam's arms as it was. When the query fell from those lips, Issima peeked up again, through the sweep of dark lashes, fixing him with her smile instead. She glanced to her feet, then, where a scowling child was playing tug of war with a determined goat. She laughed lightly and crouched to pull the wet blade from the pudgy hand, and to fix him with a new one. The goat seemed content enough with his current triumph, and that left the little boy in peace. "There, now. Goat can have that piece, and you can have this one, mm?" The boy made a garbled noise of pleasure, and Issi stood. As she did so, however, the needy child lifted his arms and began to whine a child-like imitation of her name. Sam may not have even understood him, but Issima certainly did. With a bemused shake of her head, she lifted him from the dirt to her hip. "Whereever my Lord commands," she teased, glancing back towards Sam as the tot tucked his head into Issi's shoulder and began to rub a small fist into sleepy eyes with a little yawn. "He has several brothers and sisters, but he demands the most attention. I often take him out to give his mother a break," she continued her light explanation, fondly brushing the downy hair that topped his head with her fingertips. "So, no place. Anyplace. We move until he is exhausted." Clearly nearly at that point, the boy was surprisingly still in the circle of her arms, obviously at peace there. "Shall I walk with you as you pass, Sama'el? He will, perhaps, sleep that way." The sprawling plains, as it were, offered plenty of ground for walking, and talking.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

The rabbit, clearly, was comfortable enough in Sama'el's hands, being feted by both humans. Some animals had a knack for judging human character, and this one had deemed him safe. When Issima began to tend to her little cousin, he tucked the baby rabbit into the crook of his arm and reached out to tousle the little boy's hair. "Why don't you escort my menagerie and me to my camp. You and the boy can sit for a while, perhaps eat. So long as you don't report back that I live like a savage. My servant, Jyn, doesn't cook very well, but neither do I. He and Denen tend to things while I am riding circuit, which is helpful. My Windrunner can't keep up with my Strider, so someone has to be left behind while I work..." Assuming she would only report positive things if she reported anything at all, he turned toward the Sapphire Clan's territory, clicking his tongue at the goat, who followed gamely. He was getting to be good with animals other than horses, which was all to the good. But if he did get a kestral in the Fall when he went back to visit Raiha at the Sanctuary of Riverfall, he would have to be careful the little furball didn't become lunch.

[Issima]

Issima accepted without hesitation. The boy in her arms cooed, and she nuzzled her cheek against his warm brow, turning to fall into step beside Sama’el. She spoke, almost idly, of the weather, the season, a few things that weren’t unimportant, merely routine in the life of the Drykas. Her voice softened as they walked, as they spoke, until soon tiny fingers curling in her hair made her neglect the conversation altogether. With an apologetic smile she began to hum softly, instead. It was a robust warrior’s tale, but she had slowed the pace considerably. Leaving out the words, too, managed to turn the familiar song into a peaceful lullaby. An effective one, too, because soon her squirming charge was still at last. “Tell me something about you, Sama’el,” she said at last, though her voice was still soft – little more than a breathy purr over the head of the sleeping child. “You’ve met all of my cousins, my aunts and my uncle. It is my own fault for not attending dinner, I admit, but I’ve learned little of you.” Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. Menali hardly stopped talking about Sam, and had undoubtedly repeated everything he had said at dinner that night. But it didn’t matter. With the sun in his hair and those bright eyes fixed upon her face, Issi found herself just wanting to hear his voice. The weight of a child seemed to increase exponentially when they slept, and soon her arms burned from the efforts of holding him upright. She could have carried him for miles on end, had she been prepared. As it were, she had no sling nor the fabric to fashion one. And so, eventually, she faltered in step. “Could we trade loads?” she asked, with a pointed smile towards the bunny, tiny in comparison, that he held.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"What would you like to know?" he asked, his own tenor rumbling darker and lower in an attempt to keep from waking the fretful boy again. "I'm not sure there's much to tell that's secret. Orphan boy returned to the fold, trying to rekindle a dead pavilion. Likes horses, joined the Watch... Oh..." He nodded and took the boy into his arms, for a brief moment juggling him and the baby rabbit until she took the ball of fluff out of his hands. His quiet was tense and tender as he shifted the sleeper around so his cheek rested on Sama'el's shoulder, his chubby little hand coming up to rest, half-heartedly holding on, to his neck. The Watchman was a less cushy ride, his chest and arms all bone and hard planes of whipcord muscle, but he was gentle and caring, his callused hands sure and strong. It became clear that Sama'el would be a wonderful father, at least to the little ones. The game changed as the children aged, but many a Drykas father never lived to see his children grown. Such were the dangers of the world. His face dropped down to smell the clean smell of baby and kissed the boy's hair, remembering vaguely what it was like to be held with unconditional love. There was so much calculation in the wooing games of the Drykas; he did not fault them, for the arranged marriages were partnerships that grew into respect and love, and with polygamy, one could have one's passion-loves too. But there was something primal between parent and child, a link to deep magic and old knowledge. "Ah... did that answer your question?"

[Issima]

"Not at all," Issima scolded, but with a smile on her face that softened it to the realm of playfulness. Her gaze continually drifted to the boy in his arms, protective over what was hers to protect. It wasn't that she worried about his safety with Sam. It was clear that the handsome youth Menali had somehow found would make a great father, and Issima felt confident enough in what she knew of him already to surmise that he'd keep the lad safe. It was mere habit, laden with affection. She reached up to brush the dark, damp hair away from the boys young brow, her fingertips ghosting across Sam's shoulder in retreat. "Those are things you wear, like a name. Those are things anyone in Endrykas can know. I mean something about you." Issima stooped to pluck up a wildflower, the same sort that was etched into the golden skin at the base of her neck, and then continued as the bunny nestled into her breasts where she held him, close to her heart. "I do not like nuts. Everyone else I've ever known does, but I do not. I think I prefer the night to the day. I have bad dreams. I want, more than anything, to see something of the world beyond our grass fields. I enjoy dancing. Singing too. But I don't like to be the center of attention, not like Menali can. She's natural with that. Soaking up love. I think I worry about loving my cousins too much, anymore. Anyone, really. Because I think if I ever loved anything so much again, I'd only lose it." There was a pregnant pause, the silent kind that could have been awkward, depending on how Sam received her impromptu speech. A moment later she simply fixed him with a half smile and shrugged her smooth shoulders. "My name is Issima, and I am a weaver. Which would you rather hear?"

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

He watched her carefully as she spoke, listening and absorbing even as he maintained a steady, rocking pace so as not to wake her little cousin in his arms. There were so many secret nooks and crannies in his soul and his history, some proud, others decidedly not. He wasn't sure what she wanted to know, with what he could trust her. There were shames not to be borne, and quiet joys in the utter freedom of a horse and his boy, wandering the wild with just enough skill to keep Dira at bay awhile longer. "I understand horses better than I do people. I have loved and lost more times than I should have had to at my age, but I can see a perfect world in my head. Or, if not perfect, good enough. I still want to travel, but I fear dying before I can say my pavilion's name again. The only positive revenge for my fallen that I can envision is that... More death is just more death and that's not what I want, even though..." He glanced at her. "I'm Sama'el of the Watch. My pavilion is dead."

[Issima]

It all sounded so sad. Sad in a way that resonated much too personally within Issima. Sad in a way that left her quiet, mulling over the errant thread of hope woven into his words. After a moment of staring ahead, focusing only on the horizon and her thoughts, Issima glanced towards him again. She lifted one hand to curl around his bicep, squeezing gently. She wouldn't trivialize his life with apologies or pity. Sorrow was complicated, as Issima knew all too well. She wouldn't even pretend to try to understand him, though they shared many misfortunes. After all, she could hardly understand herself anymore. She simply walked like that for a moment, connected to him somehow through her small hand clinging to the subtle strength of his arm. A moment of silent respect, for both of them perhaps, for all that had been lost. And then the mood had to lift, didn't it? Sadness couldn't reign forever, especially when life was so short. "Live a long while, Sam. I would like very much to hear that name, and to tease you as a tottering old man." Issima grinned up at him, not bothering to consider any of the implications of her words. It was true, and so she had said it. "Perhaps you will marry Menali," she mused, thinking out loud. "And she will be most eager to give you dozens of these." Issima ruffled silken hair atop a sleeping head, then turned her affections back to the quiet bunny. "And if not Menali, I can't imagine you'll last long as a bachelor. You're full up with potential, Sama'el of the Watch. I think even my Uncle sees that."