So now you better stop and rebuild all your ruins (Kali)

by **Syllke Skyglow** on May 25th, 2012, 3:10 pm

Spring 71, 512 AV

Syllke approached the city on foot, the three dogs gamboling about, running back and forth between him and the surrounding flat terrain which they traversed. The few days that he had been back in the city of his birth had not been enough for him to adjust to the extreme changes wrought by the storm. Of course, in perspective, Avanthal had fared better than Denval. At least it still existed. But Denval had been . . . temporary – only the first stop in a journey, which had now been put on hold indefinitely. Avanthal was home, and it tore at Syllke’s heart to see it so changed, so reduced. So many Vantha had died – most of them in a way previously unimaginable in the frozen north – by drowning. His own hold’s losses seemed picayune compared to those of the Coolwaters and the Iceglazes. But it was a loss of the soul, and it still hurt. All that art – gone! Some part of every artist that had crafted all the many, many pieces that had melted was gone as well – for the Skyglows imbued their work with some scintilla of their own essence in the act of creation. Still, it could have been much worse, Syllke realized – much, much worse.

His family had survived, thank Morwen, Five days ago when the ships of Denval had docked in the bay of Avanthal, Syllke had flown to his house and heaved a huge sigh of relief to see his hold still standing – though badly damaged. The repair work had begun weeks ago, of course. But the marks left would endure. His family – not having known of his fate any more than he had known of theirs, were overjoyed to see him back, safe, and there were copious tears shed and hugs that kept repeating over and over – as if they wanted to assure themselves that, yes, really, they were all OK. But the city seemed a shell of itself – a somber shadow of what if had been. And that mood had settled on Syllke like a heavy, wet mantle. Everywhere he went, his feet got wet. He had to strip down to just a light shirt and trousers – even his boots seemed too much – and for the first time in his life, he sweated profusely almost the day long. He had pitched in with the repair efforts, though his ice reaving skills weren’t very well developed. He had pondered – what next? The wander lust he had always felt was muted. But it still nagged at him. He would stay, of course, for now. He would help his family and his hold and his city as best he could. However, he was so depressed by the changes that he encountered every way he turned, that he wasn’t sure if he could bear to stay for long.

This was the first afternoon that he had taken a break to go outside the city walls – such as they were now – to explore what damages the surrounding environs had suffered. The snow was gone – every last bit of it – everywhere – so there was no point in even thinking about a sled. But he took the dogs so they could get some exercise, and for companionship. They had roamed about and Syllke had been shocked – Avanthal just wasn’t itself any more, even on the outside, and he wondered if it ever would be again. Though he loved usually to be out and about and wandering around, what he had seen had only depressed him the more, and it was with a definite slump to his shoulders that he finally turned to return to the city. Evening was coming on, the sun low on the horizon. As he drew closer to the now non-existent gates, one of the dogs loped off and did not return. He walked on, and finally it was time that he needed to recover the pesky thing before actually entering the city. Holding his hand to his eyes as a shade against the glare of Syna’s last rays, he scouted about, his head swiveling in a slow arc. In the distance, he saw a blob that, with squinting, dissolved into something that might have been a tent. With the two more obedient dogs at his heels, he made his way towards the dark smudge, thinking perhaps number three was trying to mooch some food off a squatter. There were many who had been displaced by the storm – homes lost and melted and flooded. But most had been, by now, accommodated elsewhere in the still standing structures of the city. Still, seeing someone camped out wasn’t so unusual – especially given the freakishly hot weather.

He walked on and drew closer and the two at his side bounded off, so Syllke was pretty sure that he was on the right track. Getting close enough to see the tent, he also spotted a young woman, tending a cook fire – or so he assumed for no Vantha would need a fire for warmth on this close evening. His dogs were all happily sprawled at her feet, tongues lolling. The weather was hard on them too, with their thick fur coats.

“Hey,” he called out to the girl in a friendly way. People were a lot more jumpy nowadays and he didn’t want her to think he had any evil intent. “Sorry – those are mine.” He nodded at the dogs. “I hope they haven’t been pestering you.” His always curious eyes spotted a sled lodged in the turf by the tent, and he remarked with a wry look, “Not much need for one of those these days.”

“Petching storm.” He added in an undertone, not meant for her to hear necessarily.

by **Kalimalka** on May 26th, 2012, 1:34 am

"You can be trapped in an open space, can't you? If someone or something took away your reason for moving would it really matter how big the prison is?"
Kalimalka wonders this out loud, posing the question to the twig in her hand. It was not spoken with the despair you would expect from such a question, but a kind of dull curiosity as she struggled with the philosophy of it.

She was walking around her cooking fire at a slow and plodding pace, watching a pot of water slowly rising to a boil and shredding the bark off of the twig with her fingernails. Off to the side sits a small pile of broken sticks from fallen trees and the shattered fragments of houses and boats. Once proud structures now destined to feed her fire.

"I mean, if your not shackled to one spot, you're free to move. But if you don't want to move is it that you're free not to move? Or are you just shackled some other way?" The now smooth twig is released to the fire where it is consumed and blackened. She is about to muse again when she realizes she lost her twig audience, and bends down to pick another one, notting how her bare feet are accumulating a brackish black mud. Mud. What a strange thing to see in the perpetually frozen land. She does not dwell on this but moves on.
Sanity will be preserved if she notices as little change as possible, or so she believes. Trips into Avanthal have been minimal, and she has not helped with the rebuilding at all. All effort has been going to restricting her effort: get up, walk, eat, make tea, make camp, sleep. The same day over and over to make sure at least this one thing does not change. Sanity will be preserved.

The smell of musty dog pauses her circling train of thought and she looks up to see a rather large sled dog bounding in her direction. Nervousness is not a habit of hers, but every animal that has come by is either uncharacteristically vicious or a some sort of dijed-touched monster. So jumpiness comes with the territory. But this dog is just that, a dog. A smile pulls at her chapped lips. Company! Company is good. She rolls her shoulders to settle her open jacket across her back and kneels to receive the visitor. First offering her wrist and looking away to declare her casual submission. He accepts with a wag and an ear full of wet nose.

"Where did you come from, handsome man?" She asks him with an ear scratch as she leans in to scent him as well. "You have a Master, your too well groomed not to. Where his he?" She keeps her voice light and tilling, just talking for the sake of talking.
With companionable gestures she asks him to lay down, and she joins him by sitting on one of the flat topped rocks that are scattered around the camp. Suddenly an even stronger odour permeates the air. That is the only warning before two more dogs materialize, tongues wagging and tails high. Huh, maybe I can start my own pack.
The thought, ridiculous as it is, cheers her.

A greeting quickly follows the arrival of the last two dogs. She jumps to her feet with a triumphant, and rather dramatic, "aha!" of validation instead of a proper return. An annoyed 'moof' escapes from the dog who was receiving the ear scratch. So they do have a master! Petch the routine, company is good and she's never been so lonely in her life. She comes back to herself just in time to catch his questions.
"Oh, pestering me? No, of course not. Do dogs annoy you?" The thought is foreign to her. Oh well, he must like dogs if he owns three of them, she reasons.
She ignores the comment about her sled, for the comment hit home. What is the use of a sled dog if she can't pull sleds? She invites him into her camp with a sweep of her hand instead.
"Why don't you join us? Im making tea."

She steps lightly over the dogs and adds a few leaves to the pot from a pouch sitting on the pack by her sled, along with another slosh from the waterskin to make the tea go farther.

"I only have one cup, so we will have to share" she apologizes with a smile.
"What are you doing out of the city? I haven't seen anyone for days."
She scoops out a portion of the clean, herbal-smelling tea and holds it out as an offering. Come talk to me, she inwardly begs.

by **Syllke Skyglow** on May 27th, 2012, 12:03 pm

Syllke was the type of person that would accept another’s words at face value, unless given a reason not to do so. It wasn’t that he was overly gullible or trusting or simple minded. It was because of his own nature. He wasn’t given to either lying or dissembling over much for the sake of politeness or to prevent hurt feelings. Being a highly gregarious person, he could be quite garrulous as well, but that didn’t mean he just talked to hear his own voice. What he said was typically sincere and guileless. So when a person invited him to have some tea, he operated on the premise that they made the offer without secretly hoping that he would decline and then go away. One might have seen the young woman camped here beyond the city as someone trying to avoid her fellow man. Not Syllke. He was as happy being off by himself as he was being in company with many others, so he didn’t find her choice of isolated locale significant in any way.

“Alright,” he said readily, coming to the fire. One of the dogs gave him a lukewarm welcoming snuffle but the other two seemed much more taken with the girl. He scratched a furry head, as he stood and watched her add more tea to the pot over the flames.

“No, I love dogs,” he replied to her inquiry. “But not everyone does. I can see you do, though – Mallik there is usually pretty standoffish.” He nodded to the dog who had first accosted Kalimalka . “You’ve won him over, though, I can see.” Syllke smiled wryly at the dog who still pressed to the side of the girl.

She proceeded to scoop some of the hot tea into her one lone cup and handed it first to her impromptu guest. Syllke took the cup carefully so as not to burn his fingers and nodded. “Thanks. Nah – I don’t mind a bit – if you don’t. Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

At her questions, he stepped over to one of the rocks that seemed to pass for seating around her fire, and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. He held the cup still very carefully and blew across its surface, rippling the brackish colored tea and sending aromatic waves through the air.

“I’ve been out – exploring.” His eyes took in her bare, muddy feet. His boots were in a similar state. He shook his head – a gesture of incredulity tinged with dismay. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? So petching hot, and no snow. Not even back in the woods.” Across the tundra, where the forest began, the snow would lie in deep drifts kept frozen by the deep shadows where Syna’s light could not penetrate. But the ambient temperatures had done what Syna’s rays could not, and even there, all was wet and soggy and mired.

“The animals are suffering,” he added grimly. “The wolves and foxes may feast for now – the ptarmigans and hares still wear their winter whites. But if they all get eaten now, and no young are brought forth, game will be very scarce in the winter. The dens and burrows and nesting sites are too wet, some are flooded.” He shrugged. “No food, and the predators will starve too. I couldn’t get far enough to check out the caribou path, but I’m guessing all this muck is going to slow them down, the musk ox as well.”

Syllke realized that what he said was far from pleasant tea sipping conversation. But the girl had asked so he assumed she wished to know what had brought him out from the city. His dark eyes swirled with indigo, a visible sign of his low mood.

Taking a very tentative, tiny sip of tea, he tasted the fragrant, wet heat on his tongue. Holding the cup out to his hostess, he said, “My name is Syllke, by the way. What are you doing out here? Finding the city too depressing to endure?”

by **Kalimalka** on May 29th, 2012, 12:25 am

She brings the clay mug to her mouth with the pad of her hand and leans the rim against her bottom lip. Not sipping or blowing cooling air into it, just balancing and thinking. She pets the nearest dog with long, soothing strokes down the back of his neck, right where she likes to be pet. And the other two jostle for their turn.

"Why are you worrying? You can't do a single thing to prevent it. And the creatures who are worth saving are the ones that are adaptable and can save themselves." Such is dog logic. Predators by nature and wild at heart, even the domestics.

"You'r lack of faith in all things natural disturbs me." A wry smile around the lip of the mug teases at his dark mood. "And your kind is strong, they will pull through. Even if they need to leave this land behind."

She takes a mouthful a tea instead of a tentative sip, and utters a satisfied sigh once swallowed. She uses the second lull before she is expected to speak again to appraise her guest. He certainly strikes her as an explorer. Mind you, most of the Vantha do, with their hardiness, nature and exuberance. But he was something else. Maybe it was just his youth, but he has depth in his expression she hasn't seen before.

"My names Kalimalka. Nice to meet you, Syllke the Doubter." She laughs then, a quick, tight show of mirth. The expression has been so unused for so long that the corners of her chapped mouth crack and start to bleed.

"And really, I just don't like to see your city like this. It was so beautiful once. We used to come by and see the wall lit up with all the colours of the aurora from miles away." A glazed expression comes over her face as she remembers how excited she would be to visit the city and all its people. The sight of the wall would put her in paroxysms of enthusiasm and she could easily double her speed pulling the sled across the tundra.

One of the dogs gets up with a groan and shuffles around the camp. The tail was low and sweeping, so he wasn't looking for anything. He must be bored with the lack of movement. He was expecting a walk back home with his master, not idle talk.

"And I'm not... not adapting very well. I guess the proper word is that I can't see your city like this. And I can't leave, not yet. Im stuck in a land I don't know anymore and its breaking me."

The cup is passed back, and the sudden lack of heat heightens the previously mild cold, so she presses her hands between her knees. Maybe that wasn't quite something you share with strangers. But she never did have a sense of privacy, or a sense of other peoples personal space. The glazed expression gives way to a dispirited pondering and back to curiosity at a rapid speed.

"How did everyone here survive the storm, anyway? The lake and the monsters and the dijed... Even in the spring its almost impossible for us to plant the tent stakes. I can't imagine anyone having the strength to make an underground hold."

The passive snuffling of the wandering dog intensifies along with his now wagging tail. He had found her backpack and the last of her rations. A hand shoots out and grabs his rump with curled claw-like fingers and a sharp, barking "Ha!" breaks from her mouth. Her human version of a quick nip and a bark. The dog does a meandering sideways dance and circles around to the tent instead with that characteristic guilty dog look.

She gives him one last glare before bringing her attention back to Syllke. Both hands now busy playing with the scruff of the nearer dog. Much to his delight. And he rises to play with the wandering hands with playful gnawing and licking.

by **Syllke Skyglow** on June 1st, 2012, 2:43 am

He listened to her response to his concerns, and was a bit put out by her seemingly callous dismissal of them, and of the balance of life of which he spoke.

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith. Nature survives disaster, yes, but this disaster was abrupt and extreme. To my mind, the very essence of what was Avanthal has mutated, and may remain this way forever, or until the next disaster comes along. Meanwhile, there will be much suffering, and more death. That is what concerns me.” His tone when he spoke was not challenging or hostile or chiding or patronizing – that wasn’t his way. Hopefully she would hear in his neautral and calm tone that he was merely trying to clarify for her why he was upset by what he had seen. “It well may be as you say – but if the Vantha must leave, I can guarantee you, other species will not have that choice, and may perish in the end.”

As she spoke of the city itself, his eyes went naturally in that direction, and even from this distance, he could make out the damage wrought by the storm and its after effects. Her words were poignant, heartbreaking – an echo of his own thoughts.

“I wasn’t here when the storm hit. I was in . . . Denval. It – it doesn’t exist any more.” That too was a shockingly painful memory, despite he had only lived there three seasons. It held a very special place in his heart, and as he thought on it, his fingers went instinctively to the spot behind his ear, touching it gently. “We had to escape, by ship. I’ve only been back here a few days. Thank the gods my family weathered the storm alright. So many didn’t . . . “ His voice trailed off, thinking of one in particular who no longer carried the cares of the living on his shoulders.

He was idly watching the girl’s interactions with the dogs, and somewhere deeper down in his mind he realized that she had a very easy way with the playful animals.

“How about you, Kalimalka?” he asked, his hand stretching out for the cup. “Did you live in Avanthal?” He knew that he had never seen her before, but Avanthal was a big enough city that that didn’t mean too much.

“Why were you gone when the storm hit? Were you with your family?”

by **Kalimalka** on June 5th, 2012, 3:38 am

She was shocked to hear that Denval didn't make it. Her position leans a little farther forward and her eyes widen. That can't possibly be true! It was the only other city she knew. It was beautiful, and bustling full of people. She was born there. And although she never considered it 'home' it still struck her deep to hear it was destroyed. But he doesn't dwell long on the subject of Denval. When he speaks about the city he doesn't even seem to be speaking to her. His hand hovers near his ear and she gets the sense that there is something very important in that city for him. She doesn't peruse the subject further, in case it is painful for him, but she resolves to ask him later.

He asks her a question, and she pulls herself back together and sits higher in her makeshift chair. So he survived in a city that was destroyed. Or was he already on the water when it hit? Both seemed impossible. He must be stronger than he seems.
"Call me Kali. And Im glad your family made it through. Its good that you came back for them." A sad smile as she contemplates how best to answer him. She would answer with the truth, of course, but only as much as she herself can handle.

"No, I live -I mean, lived- in a cottage about four to five days in that direction." She points to a vaguely southern direction with a decisive hand. She's run that route many times.
"I was on my way here with my Master when the storm hit. We survived, but he was badly injured and he- he didn't make it to Avnathal. Something with... quills? No, spines? It looked like a bear, but bigger. Much, much bigger."
Her eyes were welling up with tears, and had a flat look about then as she stares at a patch of ground between her feet. She was running facts about the storm and attack through her head to keep her mind on the tangible and not the feeling.
"Yes. He wouldn't let me out of the harness, said I could outrun it. And I tried. I tried so hard. He got a glancing blow to the back of his leg. It was just his leg! But it was a lot of blood. He died a few bells later. It felt like days."
She babbles on for another few moments, spitting up random moments until she sputters to a stop. A few tears have leaked from the corner of her eyes, and she wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"Ah, sorry about that. I've been avoiding a lot of things since I got here. Im a Zepherian bitch, I ran fur and traps with my bonded here and to Denval." She shakes the last of the emotion from her eyes. "And this is whats left of my home, which admittedly is a sight bit more then some people." She tosses her head to indicate her sled and tent with her possessions attached. "And that sleigh is not useless, as you said before. Maybe I can get someone to install a frame with wheels on the bottom. Then I could still pull it then as long as I stick to firm ground. Couldn't I?" She hopes so, that was her livelihood for gods sake. She goes silent for a moment and studies the man with a curious eye.

"So, Syllke my friend, congratulations. We survived the storm. What will you do next?"

by **Syllke Skyglow** on June 7th, 2012, 10:34 pm

Syllke listened in silence. She was kelvic, but still her loss could not be lessened by that bald fact. He saw it in her face, heard the sorrow in her voice – how she missed the one to whom she had been bound – by love, as well as a need to serve, it seemed.

“That must have been . . . horrible, Kali. I’m so sorry.” His voice was so quiet, barely a puff of air in the stillness that lay between them.

He looked at her, over the rim of the mug that had passed back to him. He contemplated both the girl and her question, and sipped slowly at the cooling tea.

“I don’t know yet. My plans, well . . . I had planned to travel about and see some of the world outside of Avanthal. I only got as far as Denval though.” He looked over at the sled, and shook his head. “Who knows what’s going to happen? If the ground remains so soft . . . I don’t know how your sled would do, even with wheels.” His gaze came back to her. “And I don’t know how this weather will affect your traps.”

He shook his head sadly. “Everything is just one big question mark. I guess we will just have to wait a bit, and see whether Morwen can set things right again.” His eyes swirled with a deep violet-blue reflection of his unhappiness.

Handing the mug back to the girl, he asked, “And you? What are your plans, Kali?”

by **Kalimalka** on June 10th, 2012, 12:41 am

She takes the cup and stands to refill it from the pot still simmering on the fire. The late day was rapidly falling into the night and the first of the stars can be seen, along with the tail end of the aurora's curtain. The smouldering embers of the fire struck molten veins across their surface like breathing creatures, and flickered a soft light over the close surroundings like water on a cave wall. The whole scene was soft and renewing.

"Everything will be ok." The words you tell small children and the gullible: dont be sad, everything will be ok, we will make it. But despite her simple words she presses as much meaning into it as possible. Everything will be ok.

The clay mug gets a gentle blow before being handed back to the Vanthan.

"I'm going to Riverfall."

She surprised herself with her own answer. The name was pulled out of her head from the times she pored over the map staked to the wall of her old home. It was an ancient thing, much faded in the corners, and depicted the entire expanse of Mizahar. As a puppy she would ask a million questions of her Master about what was outside their little corner of of the world. And although he had never traveled outside of Taldera himself, he would indulge her with stories he hears from travellers and fellow traders. Riverfall struck her as something beautiful and exotic, and the name seemed well picked to describe it. The city might be on the other side of the world but she is convinced she is going there. A new purpose to set her mind on track.

"Why don't you come with me?" She's smiling again. This new goal sets a warmth in her cheeks and her eyes and she is determined to share this feeling with her guest. A purpose to set sights and live for. A goal to aim for, or be forced to bleed into your own indecision. I have somewhere I need to be.

She crouches at his feet amid a mass of now languid hounds and looks up into his swirling blue eyes. Such sad eyes.

"Come with me. It can be the start of your travels again."

by **Valkyrie** on January 24th, 2013, 10:56 pm

Syllke Skyglow :

Kalimalka :

You Will Be Collected if Worthy

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.