Closed Sand Man and Miss Frost [Silarial]

[Yousef]

3rd day of Spring, 513 AV Fifteenth bell of the day Snow crunched beneath the heavy strides of a lethargic looking figure. Half of his face was hidden within layers of a thick scarf and cloak, his hands were deep in his pockets and he slouched miserably as he walked. Large bulky saddle bags adorned the broad of his back and some of its contents were peeking out, indicating his haste upon packing. The rest of his face revealed a deep frown. He came from the direction of the White Elk Stables and with a heavy heart he started walking towards nowhere in particular. Avanthal wasn’t the kind of place he’d prefer getting lost in but the pathless streets looked the same to him, flat, bleak, and immensely cold. And it felt even colder now that Hassan wasn’t around. He’d been blaming himself for Hassan’s illness but he couldn’t bring himself to give away the horse. Parting with Hassan was not an option, but improving himself was. Yousef’s frown deepened as he walked further into Avanthal, lost in his thoughts. The Benshira didn’t even bother looking around him; else he’d have noticed the increasing number of people along the way. He did look up however, once he heard a series of high pitched giggling coming from behind him, a group of children rushed passed him throwing snowballs at each other. Only then did he realize that he’d arrive at Mirror Lake. He overheard a few locals talking about this place with excitement, but he wasn’t sure what they were so excited about, everything looked the same, cold and covered in snow. He sighed deeply as he placed his saddlebags on the ground then he propped himself next to them, facing the lake which was full of people skating. Idly, he began taking large clumps of snow and padded away at them, this reminded him of the days he spent alone in their tent molding a piece of clay. Often the shapes came out odd and irregular, but his sisters didn’t mind. Yousef was never good at sculpting but it kept his head off of things.

[Silarial]

Things were looking brighter and brighter as the bells passed by. The city is back to normal. Almost back to normal. There were still people thirsting for revenge for the the affairs of winter, but, as far as she knew, they were not that great in number. With Queen Morwen's return was the return of her former peaceful life. It had been horrible for everyone, most especially for the Snowsongs. But all of it are now in the past, and she could finally rest easy after those very trying times.

But that was not all. She caught sight of an unfamiliar face carrying a couple of ungainly saddlebags -of all things!- on his back, walking about aimlessly through the city's pathless streets. He was obviously a foreigner, from the set of his clothes to his difficulty in trudging through the thick snow. Silarial felt sympathy for the visitor, especially today that the snowfall was especially heavy.

She wished to go to the man and ask him all sorts of things that needed asking. What was he doing so far up north? What kind of place did he come from? What are the things he had seen on his way to Avanthal? These questions ran through her mind as she quietly followed him. There was something in the way he carried on that kept her from running up to him right then and there. And from that one small instant she caught a glimpse of his face, she could swear she saw the sorrow in those unchanging eyes.

After what seemd like forever of trailing him, Silarial realized that they have arrived at the banks of Mirror Lake. Silarial smiled to herself, for the lake held memories dear to her. The same cannot be said for the heavily dressed stranger, however. Silarial watched as he dropped his heavy load and plopped down on the snowy ground.

Seeing that, the young woman was unable to hold herself back any longer. She walked swiftly towards him and sat by his side. Tilting her head slightly, she asked in Common, her accent soft and rhythmic. "Why do you look sad? Are you sad?"

[Yousef]

Snow settled at the top of the young man’s hood forming a thin covering of powdery white flakes. He busied himself with making a miniature Hassan, trying to ward off the bitter loneliness that came from pit of his stomach. He took great care to create its features as close to the original as possible. Turning the head, he prodded at the snowball, making a dent for eye sockets and pinching out some ears. Bits of snow crumble off the figure as he pressed too hard, he’d forgotten he wasn’t handling clay. Truth be told, the head was alarmingly large for the torso and the figure had only three legs. But Yousef ignored the obvious flaws, he was far too lost thinking of his horse and the miserable state it must be in. Absentmindedly he pressed the ball of snow, making a deep hole in the middle of the head. Around him people giggled and bantered, cheered and bellowed their voices mixing with the soft hum of the Spring breeze. He closed his eyes and tuned out their sounds, leaving only room for thought. He thought of Hassan and wished Lusina made him stay longer. Usually it didn’t bother him to be separated from his horse, he was no longer a child after all. But today after only a few bells since he’d left the Stables, he was already considering going back. Actually, they’ve never really been separated for long, a day or two at most but Hassan knew how to come home. And besides, this wasn’t the first time Hass got sick, he once caught a vile case of intestinal worms around when he was three. The poor stallion grew so ghastly thin that time that Yousef thought he’d waste away. He remembered feeling raw acrid fear as he stared at Hassan’s unseeing eyes. Those black hollow orbs accused him of betrayal, of neglect. He recalled feeling so small and worthless then, loathing himself for being incapable of taking care of his best friend. The memory was so vivid that the Benshira almost forgot where he was, until an unfamiliar warmth settle beside him. The memory vanishes just as soon as the stranger arrives. He felt slightly offended as the sensations left him. He took in an uncomfortable lung-full of cold air before turning towards the stranger. Somber green eyes lock with large brown ones, it was a woman. She was a little bit too close for his liking so he drew himself back, breaking off the intense stare she gave him. She looked pale and fragile, oddly reminding him of a freshly formed snowflake. Her eyes however, were a great contrast to the rest of her, they gleamed playfully, curiously. What did this woman want with him? Yousef wondered. "Why do you look sad? Are you sad?" the woman inquired. But how did she— how strange… Where’d this woman come from? Yousef puzzled while the stranger hovered over him, like a hen to its chicks. Feeling rather invaded he simply shook his head. He wasn’t up for any pleasantries today nor did he feel like sharing his thoughts to a stranger. “No, no. I’m alright.” He drawled, hoping the woman would take the hint. The Benshira drew his attention back to the deformed head piece, pretending to busy himself as the woman eyed him relentlessly. He began working at its muzzle, squeezing lightly he added two nostrils and flattened its tip. The Vantha woman made a noise then but didn’t say anything. Could it be that she was admiring his work? He grimaced, impossible. He was doing such a terrible job, she was probably laughing at him, he’d probably be laughing at him if he wasn’t in such a forlorn mood. Finally, he could take no more. Yousef placed the miniature head on his lap and he looked back at the woman, “Uhm… can I help you with anything?”

[Silarial]

Silarial watched the stranger closely as he shook his sad, sad head. He had said that he was alright, but his forlorn face was such a stark contrast to his words. And speaking of words, she noted how strange his Common sounded, his heavy and thick accent new to her Vantha ears. Her eyes ran over what was revealed of his face before finally settling on his emerald green eyes. 'How curious they look! His eyes are almost the color of the deep sea at its calm. They're so pretty...' she mused silently, her lips quirking up into a small smile.

The man was busily poking away at a large lump of snow, shaping the medium to something that barely resembles a head. Silarial leaned in closer in an attempt to decipher what manner of being the man was molding. It had a muzzle and flattened nostrils. From what she could gather, she was sure it was some sort of animal. It cannot be a dog since its muzzle was stretched downwards. A horse, perhaps?

The Vantha tried to surpress herself from giggling. It was rude, she knew, but she could not help it. Now that she thought about it, the small piece did resemble a horse. She looked at the man, an amused grin on her face.

"Is that a horse?" she asked in response to his question. "I would say it is a horse. It looks a bit strange though, but it does have its own charm to it." the dancer added, running a finger over her lips in thought.

At that moment, a mischievous gleam ran through her eyes, followed by a sudden shift of its colors. She grabbed the snowy head from the man's lap and placed it on top of her right palm. Silarial tapped on the winter goddess' mark on her wrist and concentrated on the image of a horse's head. In her mind, she willed the ice to rearrange itself to what she had visualized. Gradually, snow started shedding away from the chunk in her hands, revealing a pair of tiny snow ears. She continued with the horse's eyes, chipping away until there is a bulging dot on each of its side where the eyes should be.

She would go back to some parts she had already gone through, unsatisfied until she felt she had given the horse justice. The process of loosening the snow, flaking it away, and patting it to get the desired shape continued for a few chimes. The Snowsong hummed a jaunty tune all the while, her attention completely taken up with the activity. If one is to look at her, they would've thought that she had already forgotten the presence of the person sitting beside her.

Finally, Silarial poked the miniature head's underside, the snow melting where it came in contact with her finger, giving way to a slighly lopsided jaw. The finished product was still below par compared to a Skyglow's work, but it had definitely improved from before she had fiddled with it. Silarial took the man's hand and spread his palm open, and placed the small horse sculpture on top of it. "Here, it looks more horse-like now!" she smiled triumphantly, completely oblivious to the expression marked on the foreigner's deeply-tanned face.

[Yousef]

Obvious indignation flashed on the young man’s face before he let out an exasperated sigh, “Of course it’s a horse!” What else would it be. Yousef thought considerably annoyed, he wasn’t sure if it was an insult but he felt offended nonetheless. After she made her remarks, the woman eyed his creation thoughtfully—almost hungrily—he shifted the little ball of snow closer to him. Her eyes danced with something he could only recognize as mischief then she drummed on her lips and smiled. What could this woman possibly want with me? Feeling more and more pried at, he decided it was time to ask the Vantha to leave, “Er, not to be rude but—hey!” lithe cold hands snatched the horse head from the safety of his lap. Infuriated, Yousef was about to say something unpleasant, but his voice ceased when he saw the snow rise and reshape itself on the woman’s hands. Snow formed and reformed, eyes popped into place and ears became more defined, bits of snow flicked and flew and the whole thing was taking place on the young woman’s palm. Yousef could only sit and watch with horrified amazement. It was the first time he saw something so unnatural, is this what they call magic? He knew what magic was of course, he was in Yahebah during the Djed strorm and he’d encountered mages before but never this close, is this woman safe to be with? Thoughts raced in his head as the woman forged on the figure, fashioning it to her liking. She didn’t seem dangerous, if anything at all, she seemed oblivious to everything at the moment. But even so, Yousef continued to eye her warily, wanting to get some space between them. But wild animals suddenly pounce on you when you make any sudden movement. He reminded himself, part of him still believed that she was a mage. The Vantha tapped the figure’s chin and its underside melted, revealing a solid looking horse head. She seemed rather pleased with herself. At that moment, she grabbed Yousef’s hands, pried them open and placed the miniature horse-head on his palm. “Here,” she beamed, “it looks more horse-like now!” More horse-like?! Did she just go trough all that trouble to show me that my molding skills are below her standards?! Yousef’s eyebrows creased, he couldn’t believe this woman. Sure, he knew he didn’t do a good job of sculpting it properly, but she didn’t have to use her witchcraft to show him that she was better. There were more polite ways to tell a person something like that, he shook his head distastefully. Wait. He back tracked on his thoughts, witchcraft. All feelings of indignation were replaced with fear. “Uwah—! S-stay back!” he choked out as he hurriedly pushed himself away from the curious looking Vantha. He still didn’t know the extent of her powers so he wanted to keep her away. When she made a motion to approach him his mouth was quick to stop her, “N-no, okay, don’t come any closer. I don’t want any trouble.” His heart pounded in his chest, his hood had slipped off to the side of his head and he was covered with powdery white snow. On his palm, he still held on to the accursed snow figure but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Yousef wasn’t sure where the sudden fear had come from but he knew it wasn’t good. He sat up straight and dusted the snow off his cloak, don’t show her you’re afraid, don’t show her you’re afraid. “Okay,” his voice cracked, “look here lady, I don’t know what kind of sorcery you’ve just made me witness but I’ve just arrived here and frankly, I don’t have much money.” He reasoned “I’m just a traveler and you’d probably be better off with those guards over at the gates—they look like they’re well fed—just don’t touch their cow friends because that’d be wrong—” Yousef went on, saying the first thing that came to thought. The woman on the other hand had just stared at him at first, but as he went on her lips curled into a smile and she began giggling uncontrollably. Yousef stopped, more irritated than confused. What in Yahal’s name is wrong with this woman.

[Silarial]

"S-stay back!" Silarial blinked slowly, very much surprised from the young man's reaction. 'Why in Morwen's name is he moving away from me? I didn't do anything wrong... did I?' she stared at him carefully, her eyes gradually turning dark blue as she did. 'But I just showed him our Queen's blessing... It's not like I did magic or-- Oh.' her face eased into realisation. She now understood why he reacted as such. He must've thought she was a mage!

It's truly unfortunate that she was mistaken for a dangerous person. It's not even like all mages are bad and dangerous. There are good mages out there too, right? But mage or no mage, she must clear up this understanding right away.

The Vantha pushed her body up to move closer to the foreigner. It was, however, met with immediate protests and opposition. Silarial gaped at the man and saw what she identified as fear. It didn't seem like he was playing tricks on her or anything of the sort, too. 'Did I suddenly grow an extra head? Why is he so scared of me? I just wanted to cheer him up!' she sighed diffidently.

But she was patient. At least, she believed herself to be. And so she waited for the man to gather his wits about him, slightly unconviced that he was having any progress with calming down at all. Soon enough, the man rambled about how he had recently arrived in Avanthal and how he did not have much money on his person. He was clearly implying that she was some sort of brigand that attacks innocent people for loot.

She shook her head both in amusement and disbelief. If she was indeed a bandit, why would she go and attack the Icewatch? That would be foolish. Each one of them had to undergo rigorous training everyday, the Guards and their battle-ready cows-- 'what?' Silarial's thoughts came to an abrupt stop as she tried to process what the man had just said.

Silarial stared at the still-blabbering young man, her mind digesting his words at last. The corner of her lips turned up into a smile, and soon she found herself unable to stop laughing. She held on to her sides as she struggled to stop her fit, in vain. After what seemed like a chime or two, Silarial finally regained control of her senses, but her face was flushed from the hysterics. She cleared her throat and tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear.

The Vantha looked at the strange man once more, "First of all, those are Kelvics, Dire Polar Bears to be specific. Not c-cows... pfft!" Silarial instantly covered her mouth to keep another bout of laughter from escaping her lips, succeeding, with some effort, this time. Sighing, she continued, "Second, I am no mage. I am a Vantha, marked by Morwen like all the children of the Aurora. What you saw is proof of our goddess' blessings," Silarial scooped up a handful of snow and hefted it in her palm for the man to see. "We sing to the ice, and the ice sings back to us. Such is the gift of Queen Morwen." she tapped her gnosis once more and willed the snow to turn into water. In a moment, the snow were gone and water dripped down her arms. She moved her eyes back at the man, the pride very much evident in them. "If you look around closely, you will see what I am talking about."

[Yousef]

The woman shook with laughter; Yousef merely gaped at her, his face twisting in disbelief. What’s so funny? He was growing more and more irritated with the stranger, perhaps he could make a run for it? She was still shaking with hysterics after all, holding her sides and covering her mouth. She probably wouldn’t even notice him leave. Or maybe this is some kind of strange Vantha tradition that he didn’t know about? He shifted in place and just stared incredulously at the woman until she stopped her giggling fit. All the while the corner of his lips twitched in irritation. After a few ticks the woman stopped and she paused to fix herself, a giggle would escape her every now and then but it didn’t last long. Their gazes met once more, “First of all,” she began, her tone rhythmic and slightly amused, “those are Kelvics, Dire Polar Bears to be specific. Not c-cows... pfft!” Oh. Ohhh, right. Kelvics were familiar to him but bears were not. “B-bears?” the Benshira whispered, more to himself than to the stranger. She subdued another giggle and covered her mouth as she did. Yousef felt himself color so he dropped his gaze on the horse head. It was dented in a few places due to his earlier ruffle. He brushed its features absentmindedly as he listened to her explain Morwen’s blessing and the gift she gave her children. His eyes followed the woman’s hand as she scooped some snow and slowly turned it to water, it melted, dripping down her palms and to her wrist where an odd mark could be seen. A gnosis, Morwen’s gnosis. His head nodded slightly, finally understanding. The Vantha said, “If you look around closely, you will see what I am talking about.” in a bold tone. And he did, he looked around him and observed the people. There was a group of children huddled together, each of them holding a snowball, they were talking in Vani but he could see them alter the snow’s features. They were much less graceful than what the woman showed him but the process was very much the same. And there was a couple nearby, not much older than he was, the man was making a ring out of some water. His face would crumple every time he’d fit his creation on his woman’s fingers, it kept slipping of. His lady merely chuckled. And then a group of adults were at the edge of the lake, their palms pressed firmly on the frozen water, their expressions reflected pure concentration. What are they doing? He squinted his eyes trying to see more. Are they… reinforcing the ice? Cracks on the lake’s surface slowly closed, leaving the ice hard and sturdy once more. “Amazing…” he mumbled under his breath. The snow that he hated was a gift to these people, a gift to the children of Morwen. He looked at her then, his face a mix of awe and embarrassment. “I understand now…” murmured the Benshira as he bowed his head, “I, um, mistook you for something else… it was rude of me. I apologize.” His hand closed on the snow figure, the little horse head that she’d made for him. He paused, creased his brows and looked thoughtful for a moment. He turned the figure in his hand and took a deep shaky breath. “Well then… what is your business with me?” he sat up and caressed the little snow creation. “I mean, you’ve just suddenly came out of nowhere and grabbed the snowball that I thought—” he paused when he saw the woman’s expression and slowed down his tone, “I thought you had bad intentions… but thank you for showing me the gift of your people.” He smiled without humor and continued, “But really, is there anything you need me for?”

[Silarial]

The Vantha paid attention to the foreigner’s slowly changing expression with an almost childlike curiosity. Yes, this strange person was fascinating her so. She has never seen someone like him during all those years she was in Avanthal. It’s not that the man stood out among the sea of dark haired people because of his appearance; it was a given, though. There was, however, this air of being lost about the strange man — not the physical sense of lost, but it was as if he was lost in something. What that something was, she did not know.

Seeing the awed expression on his face, Silarial followed the man’s gaze towards the direction of the vast, glassy lake. A couple of Ice reavers were gathered there, most probably working on the daily maintenance the frozen lake requires. She smiled to herself, certain that she had finally gotten her message across. She kicked back her feet and gazed at the Ice Palace in the distance. Her thoughts drifted back to the day of Morwen’s return, her lips absentmindedly caught between her teeth.

After a while, the man began to speak once again, his tone apologetic this time. Silarial smiled reassuringly, nodding her head minutely as he voiced his thoughts to her. At the mention of the snow figure, Silarial’s mouth slowly fell open. ‘The horse was the reason he was upset? But… I was trying to make him happy. I didn’t really mean to offend him at all!’

She was about to go and say she was sorry herself when he continued, even thanking her for showing the winter goddess’ blessing. And when he asked her what she wanted from him, she was suddenly at a loss for words.

“I… umm… well,” She did not know how to explain it, nor did she understand it very well, but she felt some sort of connection to him. Perhaps, it was because she was someone who was lost herself. “You seemed so lost. You look cold too. And lonely.” She stated matter-of-factly before she stood up, shaking bits of snow that clung to her skirt.

At that moment, thought suddenly crossed her mind, bringing a bright smile to her features. “Do you have somewhere to stay while you are in the city? You can stay at our arvinta, our home, if you like. It is only me and my mother, so it is a bit quiet with just us two.” Silarial inclined her head slightly to the side, and added. “Our place is warm, and I think we still have some food, too. I am sure you will like it.” She paused for a bit, quite certain she missed something.

“Oh! By the way, my name is Silarial. A Snowsong.” She made a quick curtsy, then stretched her hands to the still unnamed man. Grinning, she asked, “How about you? What is your name, mister visitor?”

OOC :

Hey Rain, feel free to play Silly dragging Sef to who knows where. You already know how stubborn she can be.

[Yousef]

“You seemed so lost. You look cold too. And lonely.” The woman had said this so straightforwardly that he almost felt sorry for himself for being so obvious. Yousef’s expression faltered for a moment, his creased brows eased and his face turned thoughtful. “Huh.” Usually the Benshira was apprehensive towards people who noticed him getting lost but this time, despite all that’s happened in the past few chimes, he felt relieved. Maybe it’s because the Vantha had shared her gift to him, but either way, his initial hostility began to fade away. She started going on about something called an arvinta and her mother, Yousef pretended to know what she was talking about, a stiff smile forming on his face. In his hands the horse head nestled, dented and deformed by this time but the Benshira still held on to it like some valuable treasure. He was about to turn down her offer when she added, “Our place is warm, and I think we still have some food, too. I am sure you will like it.” Instantly he wanted to reconsider, a small voice in his head told him that this was a good omen from Yahal. But he knew it was wrong, after accusing her of being a mage earlier, he felt like he didn’t deserve to be treated kindly. Tha Vantha woman introduced herself as Silarial, a Snowsong. He puzzled over what a Snowsong was, she stretched out her hand, Yousef took it with his free hand and shook it reluctantly. “My name is Yousef.” He wanted to leave it at that but he felt like he owed the Snowsong woman more than just his name. “I am a Benshira from Eyktol, I’ve traveled here with my horse, Hassan…” the Benshira’s expression fell as he mentioned the stallion’s name, his eyes glanced at the snow figure and caressed it absentmindedly. Silarial looked at him with a strange expression and for a split-second he saw her eyes’ colors flicker, changing hues as she stared at him. He wondered what they meant. “Well mister Yousef,” chided the Vantha “don’t look so glum! You know what, I will take you to our arvinta right now. That would definitely cheer you up! You can tell me about your horse and all the things you saw during your travels on our way home!” she tugged at his arm and pulled him to his feet. Yousef hardly had anytime to protest since the Vantha had already began to pick up his saddle bag, with a bit of difficulty, and attempted to swing it over her shoulder. “N-no wait, I’ll take that, it’s heavy!” Taking the large bags from Silarial, he hoisted them to his back. Grunting a bit as he did so, his companion looked very pleased the whole time. Ugh, I wonder how I’ll tell her I can’t stay… maybe it’ll come along as we make our way to her house… He felt distressed, just chimes ago he’d reeled away from this woman and called her a mage but now he was being invited to stay at her house, it was quite a turn of events. He flashed her a tight lipped smile and gestured for her to lead the way, oh Yahal, I hope I’ve made the right choice. Silently he mumbled to himself as he followed the strange young woman called Silarial. The horse head—hardly horse-looking at all by this time—was now perched atop the torso Yousef made earlier. Although deformed and dented, somehow the pieces fit perfectly. OOC : I hope I did the dancer justice. And likewise with Yousef, you can totally drag him around where ever. He'd complain a bit but he would be too bothered to protest.

[Silarial]

“You… sef… Yousef.” Silarial let the foreign word roll from her tongue as if she was tasting the sound of it, her eyes blooming into a deep green color. The name sounded odd and exotic to her ears, but she felt that this man did look like a Yousef. The young Snowsong grinned at the thought. ‘But what is a Benshira? And Eyktol is a place? Wherever could that be?’ were the things running in her mind as the man whose name was Yousef continued his introduction. She looked at him curiously, intending to ask the endless questions welling from her mind.

The man finished by telling her about his horse, his tone gloomier than ever. That quick glance at the snow figure did not escape Silarial’s notice, and the pieces started forming themselves inside her mind. If he came here with his horse, why wasn’t it with him right now? If it’s just at the Stables then he wouldn’t look so lonely, right? Something must have happened with his horse that caused him to make such sad faces, and now he’s trying to cope up with his loneliness by making snow figures in his horse’s likeness.

‘He really must be lonely right now, knowing no one in an unfamiliar place. No wonder he looked so lost! It’s almost as if he’s just like…’ Green eyes flushed a lonely gray, and a dark blue color ebbed in its midst as she tried to suppress the sudden sadness that washed over her. ‘…like no one in particular.’

Clearing her throat consciously, she tried to change the heavy atmosphere around them with a cheery voice. “Well mister Yousef, don’t look so glum!” she chided with a slight tinge of forced playfulness. “You know what, I’ll take you to our arvinta right now. You can tell me about your horse and all the things you saw during your travels on our way home!” Silarial tugged at the man’s arm and yanked him to his feet. Now that the two of them were standing so near each other, she can’t help but notice how tall he was. Her eyes were level with where the base of his neck was supposed to be.

‘Mister Yousef you big, sad man.’ She shook her head slightly and shrugged. If she’s going to bring him home then the two of them have to start moving already.

Without wasting any time, she went ahead and picked up his things — saddlebags, to be specific. She almost stumbled under the weight of the large bags. It took her all she had just to bring the load over her shoulders, what more lug it around like he did? “Bwu-unhh…! Oh wow, these are heavy. How do you carry this… err, these around?”

Yousef took the bags from her shoulders, to Silarial’s relief, and brought it over his with a grunt. Silarial smiled as she looked him all over, noting to herself that despite the lingering frown on his features, he looked a lot better than when she first saw him. Yes, definitely.

Silarial was walking quite a bit ahead and leading him by the wrist when she turned and faced her new companion, still walking, and began her barrage of questions, “So what is this Eyktol you speak of? What is it like? And what’s a Benshira? Have you passed through… cities other than Avanthal?”

Finally she paused, walking beside the Benshira now as he spoke. Silarial watched the expression on his face as he answered her questions. She internally scolded herself for being insensitive to Yousef’s homesickness, her teeth chewing anxiously on her lower lip as they walked on.

At the sight of Snowsong Hold, she tugged excitedly at her visitor’s arms and dragged him inside the huge structure. Up the stairs they went, and past the seemingly countless doors of her neighbors until at last the two were in front of her arvinta’s door. Finding it locked, she knocked on the door almost impatiently and called out to her mother who most probably went home early from work.

“Mom, I’m home. And we have a visitor!” she called out in a singsong voice, and looked at Yousef with a soft smile on her face. A woman’s voice answered from inside, and soon the door opened to reveal an olive-skinned woman with curly dark hair. She seemed to be in her early thirties, and can even pass as someone younger due to her youthful visage. The woman looked nothing like Silarial.

She looked at Yousef, surprise clearly written all over her face and then to her daughter who proceeded to introduce the man to her mother, “Yousef, this is my mother, Areeyah. Mom, this is Yousef who came from the lands of Eyktol. He says he’s a Benshira and he currently does not have anywhere to stay. Can we please keep him?”

Areeyah gave the young man another once-over and must have found something agreeable with him, for the corners of her lips quirked up into a smile. “Why, it’s nice to meet you, Yousef. Come in, come in!” the kind woman ushered the pair inside where the air is warm from the crackling fire in the hearth. Silarial pulled her visitor towards the common room of their arvinta and asked him to sit on the small couch. “You must be tired hauling those around with you, and I’m sure my Silarial was quite a handful. Forgive her though, she’s just over enthusiastic sometimes. Well, a lot of times actually.” She laughed as Silarial, who was currently trying to pull the saddlebags off of Yousef, pouted.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me in front of our visitor! Don’t do that.” She retorted at the woman who was currently preparing what appeared to be warm soup. She beckoned the two to the table where smoked fish soup, three plates of grilled venison and slices of loaf bread were being served. Silarial stared incredulously at the amount of food on the table. “What is the occasion for you to have so many food?”

“We never got to celebrate Morwen’s return so I decided to bring home some food from work that can last us till dinner. Good thing I did, now we have a visitor!” her mom replied in Common, and asked Silarial and Yousef to sit down opposite her. Offering a small prayer to Morwen for bringing the young man safely to the city, to which Silarial joined, she let the two eat their fill.

Flicking her gaze from Silarial to Yousef, a meaningful smile formed on Areeyah’s lips. “So young man, what brought you so far up north? I doubt this was a simple sightseeing trip on your part. Most would have shied away at the sight of an endless expanse of an ice wasteland.”

Note: "This is Vani" "This is Common" "This is Areeyah"