[Kulkukan/Bastani]She's a Lady - Aren

by **Meera** on March 14th, 2012, 5:14 pm

Having bathed herself from Aren's blood, she took her sweet time with braiding her hair. She was dressed in her purple dress and wet hair stained the back where it fastened. She brushed her hair gently ensuring all the knots were taken care of before she separated her hair in to seemingly a hundred sections. Still damp it seemed to shine to reward her gentle stroke and care. She tied off sections one by one using small bits of ribbon before she tangled her fingers in wheat coloured hair. Fingers twisted and entwined, marrying and separating and she pieced together a thick braid coming from above her left ear. Meera braided it flat against her head and tied it near the middle of her scalp to prevent it from coming undone. Another thick braid from the opposite side, then below her ears all met in the centre of the back of her head, and with the small remaining sections Meera braided thin, narrow ropes that outlined the thicker siblings. Once her hair hung in the back of her head she wrapped her loose hair together into a giant braid that would wound around itself to form a bun. Off to the side to secure the bun was a small dainty bow that if pulled, would unravel the whole mess.

Her hair took the longest part. Meera wanted it to be perfect, and some sections had to be redone. It almost hurt her head, how tight she had made the braids. If Aren had waited downstairs she couldn't be sure for the amount of time she was taking. It wasn't as though this was one of those whatcha-ma-callit dates, or as Meera understood it a courting-specific outing. They were just going to go for sweets, and to be so lovingly dressed seemed... overkill. Her hair was still damp when she undid all of her work, untangling the braids and letting it hang loose for the day. Her wheatish hair had a slight curl from the braid and it hung airy and light as it dried.

Meera had no shoes to match the dress or in anyway compliment it, not like she was the epitome of fashionable in any case. Her legs were encased in her boots, the hard resin biting into her flesh without her breeches to protect her calves.

The woman felt slightly uncomfortable in the dress, but she had almost promised herself to wear it so she felt compelled. Her hands pressed the skirts tight against her legs as she walked. Somehow it made her feel better to keep her body tight and stiff in its movements down the stairs. She was afraid to stumble down the stairs from tripping on the skirts even though they came only to her knee. She made the trip just fine down each stair.

Hair covered her face like a heavy curtain as she stared at the steps in front of her, almost wishing she could hide completely behind the long blonde hair. Once at the bottom of the stairs did she gather the trust in herself to look around the tavern.

by **Aren** on March 14th, 2012, 6:37 pm

Aren waited at the table which had become his table... their table. His hair was still glistening, Nys having allowed him to take that cold bath. He probably suspected that his friend hadn't really found any place to sleep, but hadn't said anything about it. Perhaps he approved of Aren's gesture, or perhaps he just thought it was none of his business.

As the akalak looked at the stairs for the hundredth time, his eyes finally found what they had been searching for: Meera coming down them. She hadn't been joking about the dress either, and Aren hadn't been wrong in thinking she would look great in it. The boots she wore seemed to be at odds with the rest of the outfit, but he couldn't help but think that it was an appropriate contrast for the drykas to display.

Aren stood from his chair, eyes wide and unmoving from Meera's petite frame. Her hair was different as well, looking more delicate and complicated than she usually wore it as.

A smile crept up on him, almost against his will. Aren liked knowing that she had done this for him. He liked knowing that when she looked, it was him she was looking for, and his mind, at that precise moment in time, could think of nothing but her.

by **Meera** on March 14th, 2012, 7:21 pm

She pushed back the thin veil of blonde and scanned the bar's interior looking for Aren. She found him easily at their usual table and she made her approach, shimmying her hips to let the skirts twirl about her spindly frame. She raised her arms and her palms faced the ceiling as she put herself on display, very much so not liking the smile Aren had for her. She liked that she could make him smile, but the reason behind it caused a rock to sit low in her stomach. She couldn't be stable around Aren could she? One moment she would be about ready to sing to the rafters, another she was near tears again for something totally different.

"Is dress." She told him, presenting herself at his table like some common harlot. Meera smiled when she called herself that. She kind of liked the sound of it.

"You move stuff into room now?" Her hands took the loose ends of her hair and she twirled the gentle damp curl between her fingers. With the long loose hair, the dress, the mannerisms she was doing, Meera suspected she was appearing quite young. She was still a teenager, and would be for another Turning. Her birthday was less than a season away now.
"Might as well do now, so we have free hands for sweets." Meera's smile widened, showing the top row of teeth.

by **Aren** on March 14th, 2012, 10:54 pm

Aren swallowed hard as Meera's skirt flayed about with the movement of her hips. The action would have been provocative enough on it's own, but the girl's bare legs underneath enhanced it's effect.

As she approached, the akalak was a bit of a loss for words, unable to really express his thought. He took hold of his damn senses soon enough, however, "It suits you," he said, in earnest. The truth was, before Meera mentioned wearing a dress, Aren hadn't really ever thought he'd see her in one. She seemed the type to like the more casual, practical outfits to the point of excluding anything as "girly" as this.

The drykas looked young, but Aren couldn't really tell human age well, so he often forgot just how young she really was. How much could she have experienced in her short life? How could she really know if she liked dresses or not?

Suddenly, the akalak was conscious of just how much older he was. Even if he had been another hundred years older than her, however, he felt what he felt and there was nothing anyone could do about it, least of all himself. Older or not, she was probably more mature than Aren was in most cases, anyway.

"There isn't much," he mentioned, glancing at his pack, which he basically lived out of. Aren was generally not as static as Meera's presence had made him, and so he generally didn't carry much that couldn't be taken on the road.

The akalak nodded, agreeing that traipsing around with all his crap simply wouldn't do, "Don't be gone when I come back," he uttered, gently placing a finger on her lips.

Honestly, Aren was still a little traumatized by the way the drykas had fled from him that day at the falls. He was getting over it, but sometimes he still feared she would disappear one day, without any warning, and he would never see her again. In those moments, he thought her image was like a fleeting memory of something you weren't even sure actually happened, and he had to double check to make sure she was real.

by **Meera** on March 15th, 2012, 2:04 pm

"Does not," Meera spoke softly when Aren complimented her dress. She looked a tad ridiculous in her boots and dress she thought, and she continued to regret her decision for purchasing the dress even well after Aren left. She felt very fancy - which was not Meera - and pretty - not Meera - and dainty - not Meera - and womanly - very much so not Meera. Meera was one of the men, she fought, she scrapped, she wore breeches and even her chest was manly, refusing to show more of a woman's figure. In the dress, however, her average sized chest was pronounced and accentuated, the bright blue in the sea of purple calling focus to the small mounds beneath. It was that which made her uncomfortable. The Drykas hadn't thought about the stares she would garner from men and other patrons of the Kulk. Even her knees were given some attention and that disturbed her.

She sat at the table Aren vacated and she tucked her legs well underneath the top. Her arms folded across her chest as she waited and she seethed through her teeth that she could just punch some of the men out cold. She had grown quite fond of the Kulk and Nys that she did not wish to cause trouble for him, but some of the patrons just couldn't help themselves. She stared them down, sending daggers with her eyes rather than getting the physical satisfaction of stucking them like the boars they were.

When Aren returned she stood and latched to his side, not for protection, but so the other men in the tavern knew what they would be dealing with. A woman that would freely cling to an Akalak's side must be fearless, for they knew something that Meera did not: having his baby would likely kill her.

by **Aren** on March 15th, 2012, 7:20 pm

He did not insist, but merely smiled to suggest that despite Meera's objections, the dress truly did suit her and there was nothing she could about it.

Aren rushed up to her, his former room, and dropped his pack at the foot of the only bed within. In truth, he should have placed it somewhere near the door, someplace where there was a clear separation between his stuff and Meera's stuff, but he had become so accustomed to just dropping it by the bed that he didn't even think about. His scythe, however, he had to consciously decide to leave behind.

Normally, Aren would not find himself separated from his weapon for almost any reason, but he didn't think carrying it around while he and Meera went out was appropriate. She had done something for him, so it was his turn to do something for her.

Leaving his scythe against the inside wall by the door, the akalak felt an odd sense of vulnerability and nakedness knowing that he was about to venture out without it. There was an unease that settled in his stomach at the thought, but he fought through it, and headed back down the stairs.

On his way down, Aren noticed how Meera consciously hid her womanly features, her eyes assaulting anyone who dared to so much as look in her direction. He laughed to himself, wishing he could warn the drykas' would be admirers that she was rather violent, even to people she cared about, so they had best be cautious.

As he approached their table, Meera jumped up and took hold of him, without much warning. As most looks directed at her evaporated with sighs and moans of disappointment, Aren understood what she was doing, and decided to play along.

"She's mine," he said in Tukant, with a bit of a snarl, at which any remaining looks swiftly redirected themselves somewhere else.

by **Meera** on March 16th, 2012, 3:30 pm

Meera was familiar with Tukant. She couldn't avoid the language, having come to Riverfall annually for the majority of her life. Since her first trip out into the Sea of Grass she'd seen more Akalaks than Drykas, and it would make sense knowing now how indomitable and tough she tried to be - and was. Meera almost seemed, when one really examined her, to have grown up too fast. She was self-reliant, smart, in control, but her knowledge was severely lacking as a prospect of one's interest, something she was steadily gaining experience in. So when Aren held her back and growled in Tukant at the men that had made Meera uncomfortable, she didn't quite know what to think. She understood it as well as anyone else, he had used basic words and a possessive one at that. She's mine.

Was she his prey? His weapon? His toy? Meera liked to think she belonged to no one. Was the Drykas his employee? A part of her straightened under his words and she carried herself a bit more proudly, but Meera was not his property no more than Darksand was her property. They were a team, two of a kind. As they left the Kulkukan, Meera relaxed. He couldn't possibly think of her as "his own". They were courting, not in a legally binding contract. He wasn't even wearing his scythe, she took a moment to notice. How could he expect to make some grand claim over her and have no way to defend it if another man sought her? Oh, right, she thought. He's got that Djed... She reminded herself.

"Mine." She said back to him in his own language, gripping his hand and forearm slightly tighter as she said the word. If Meera was going to be his, Aren was going to be hers. The woman offered the giant a friendly smile as she released his forearm, pushing hair back from her face again.

"Sometimes I miss wind through hair." Fingers trapped themselves in small tangles as she finger brushed hair back behind her ear. She giggled. "Then I miss having it in braid."

by **Aren** on March 16th, 2012, 5:47 pm

Aren didn't think she would understand what he had said, but she wasn't just parroting his words. Meera seemed to know what they meant, if only in a vague sense, as evidence by the fact that she squeezed his arm possessively while repeating the appropriate one.

The akalak hoped she realized that he had only said that for her benefit, so that the looks she was receiving stopped, and not because he actually deigned to think of her as his. For some reason, though, he didn't mind being her's.

"Wind IS my specialty, you know," Aren mentioned, implying that he could be of service in this capacity. He was only joking, however, as he knew that she didn't like him "throwing himself away" by using magic, and in truth, it shouldn't be used for such trivial reasons anyway.

"To drykas, braids are important, aren't they?" Aren asked, as they walked towards their intended destination.

He had lived in Endrykas for awhile, but it never occurred to him to ask anybody. Of course, who would he have asked? He didn't really care, then, anyway. It was just a curiosity, as they even braided their horse's hair.

Now, however, he noticed that Meera was very particular about them. Certainly keeping her hair loose would be easier, so there had to be a reason why she took the trouble to braid her own hair. Somehow, Aren didn't think it was a matter of simple fashion.

by **Meera** on March 16th, 2012, 8:01 pm

The Drykas gave Aren a look that suggested that it would be in his best interest to change the subject of his powers over Djed, and thankfully, Aren was proficient in his skills to analyze a woman's glare. He decided to make the conversation about her, and her ... race?
Meera simply nodded in reply and made a small noise that suggested agreement.
"Braid is very important. Every thing is told through braids. Status, prayer, love. Slaves and child like me allowed no braids, or long hair. More... fancy braid, the better." Meera explained as they walked.

"Father was Ankal, means... almost like father? or leader? for my clan. He died before I was born. Glassbeak most likely. My mother died just after I was born. Because my father was leader, I am allowed braids. Because I have no windmark, I have no place in the clan. I am little better than slave. Only a little." Meera explained her history to him, taking her time with her words and maintaining a pace that could be called a stroll. Whether or not Aren was in a rush for his sweets Meera did not know or care. She was suddenly feeling nostalgic and in the mood to share with her suitor more of herself. The moments were rare. Meera rarely talked at all if she could avoid it. Of course, that was quickly changing now that she was in Riverfall. It seemed all Aren wanted to do was talk and talk and talk. Patros and Meera could go days without uttering more than five words, whether in Signings or not.

"Most women in clan have fancy braid. Take care and pride in hair and knotwork. Me, I would like one day, but I can hardly braid own hair. I try upstairs at Kulkukan. Braids too tight and took too long. Even men have braid, is no issue. Braids very important. Braid is everything into one, three pieces," Meera broke off her hold on Aren and took her fingers into her hair, grabbing a section and separating it into three pieces, slowly braiding, "into one. Braid is one. Is pride, is love, is prayer."

Meera dropped her hands from her half-finished, loosely braided section and her bad hand slipped into Aren's easily.

"Only sometimes is nice to have break from braid." The only other option was that Meera had no pride, no love, and wasn't devout, which was not Meera at all. Every night - barring intoxication - the last word hushed over tired, dry lips was those of her gods - Zulrav, the god of Wind, Semele, his lover and goddess of the Earth, and Akajia, the goddess of all things concealed - the night, secrets, everything. Her favourite goddess.

by **Aren** on March 16th, 2012, 10:58 pm

Aren listened quietly as Meera explained the meaning of braids. He didn't like hearing that she was considered no more than a child or a slave, his face shifting slightly, but said nothing.

From what the drykas said, Aren realized that braids were like certain social cues amongst her people. He realized that by knowing that, she had given him an insight into her mind that only another drykas could normally be able to discern.

The akalak looked at the more elaborate braid she wore today. That meant something, he simply simply didn't know what.

"She wore a dress and did her hair... what do you think it means, idiot?" Seros, who was of a more perceptive breed than his brother, offered.

Aren, of course, ignored him... for the most part, anyway, but he couldn't simply turn a blind eye to the fact that Meera had started behaving differently ever since she had asked if they were courting. Perhaps this was a drykas thing? With what she had told him about braids, then it would make sense if they changed as a relationship with a particular individual changed.

As Meera mentioned that it was hard for her to do her own braids, Aren's eyes darted towards the ground ahead of him. Was he expected to do it? Even if he was, since he had no such skill, would she even want him to? Was he supposed to get a braid?

Now, Aren had a thousand questions and a thousand doubts in his mind. He wanted to ask something, but the sheer myriad quantity of things he thought he needed to know seemed to overwhelm him, "I- wha- I mean..." his throat seemed to seize up on him, as was like to happen around Meera. After a few moments, however, he managed to focus his mind towards a single statement.

Squeezing her returning hand, he smiled earnestly, "I'm not a drykas, but if it's important to you, I'll try," the sentence was a bit awkward, but Aren just wanted to let her know that she could ask anything of him. If she wanted him to braid her hair, he'd do his best. If she wanted to braid his, he'd try not to fidget too much.