Open Don't Ask What's In The Soup And You'll Be Fine...

[Strig]

41st of Spring, 513 AV The sight of the communal kitchens made Strig’s heart ache. It was a large room, with flat stone slabs propped over the floor to serve as tables. Benches lay beside them, with a couple of rough looking Inarta quietly talking or eating their meals. The difference between here and home in Sultros was staggering. His memories of the quiet meals he shared with his family at home evaporated, now replaced with the realization that he was going to eating here from now on…alone. It was different. Strig looked down at his hand; at the food voucher that was partially crumpled between his steel fingers… very different. Despite there not being many people in the hall, Strig felt self-conscious, as if there were people staring at him. Perhaps there was, he couldn’t work up the nerve to turn around and check though; choosing instead to walk up to food counter. The smell of roast beef, sizzling on hot stones, of bubbling soups and freshly cut fruits wafted in the air; which brought a hungry smile to his lips. [Perhaps this would be a good time to try speaking Nari] he thought to himself. His Inarta mentor, Dreg, had made some attempts to teach him the language, but there seemed to be some kind of… pronunciation difficulty. [Dreg had mentioned that the only way to get better at a language was to speak it though…] Smiling nervously, Strig walked up to the cook behind the counter, who raised an eyebrow as he approached. “May I have some soup please?” The cook looked puzzled. The shrill clicks and whistles were lost on Strig, making him sound like a chicken that was being painfully strangled. The cook clenched his teeth and stepped away, as if that action alone would make this crazy foreigner’s screaming easier for him to understand. “Soup! Sooooooooooup!” Strig exclaimed, waving his food voucher frantically at the man. The cook glared at the slip of paper in his hand and snatched it away, placing a small wooden bowl filled with brown liquid and a slab of brown bread between them. Biting his lip, the cook made a small shooing motion with his hand. As the sky was getting darker, more and more people were starting to flow into the kitchens, filling the large room with the sounds of talking and laughter. Strig paused for a moment to try and isolate some of the clicking and whistling sounds in a vain attempt to find someone who spoke something…normal, but to no avail. Quickly, the food line started and swelled, pushing Strig towards the tables as impatient red heads struggled to get into the building. Shaking his head, Strig sat at the table closest to him, still empty of people. Quickly checking to see if his left arm was still well-wrapped, Strig brought the bowl to his lips and sipped softly. He kept his eyes on the door, humming to himself softly as he satisfied the craving in his belly, watching as the tired people of the city came in. They laughed and sang while they waited for their supper, bringing a smile to Strig’s face. But it was followed by a small sigh as people passed him by and avoiding his gaze. He grimaced to his bowl. It was going to be a long night.

[Kanri]

Kanri rubbed her soaking wet hair as she, with a puppy-like misery, slumped into the Communal Kitchens and eating area. It was embarrassing too, because her mother, whom she worked under, had mentioned that her hair looked really awful in front of everyone. She hated baths. They seemed almost like a waste of time. While some people could just sit in the warm water for hours, Kanri just got bored. Bathing wasn't exactly a relaxing affair for her, but she hated being called out for it just as much. So, she had complied with her mother's wishes. And she was definitely an adult... well, at least in age. Kanri did not feel a day older than fifteen still!

As she got a piece of nicely roasted meat that smelled, and looked, delicious as well as a small bowl of soup, which sadly contained carrots, and a roll of bread. She also asked for a small glass of milk, but she knew that would start getting to be a bit overkill if she took more. And what if at the end of the season, if she didn't have enough to pay? Better stop while you're ahead. She took her tray and looked for a place to sit down. While normally, she would slip into a table with a bunch of artisans around, she could blend in and listen to the goings-on, she saw an older looking man who was clearly a foreigner sitting by himself. A foreigner! There was never a moment when she did not desire to learn of the outside world, outside of her little city secluded in the mountains.

"Hey! I'm going to sit here. Is that okay?" Kanri asked, trying to keep down her high-pitched, excited voice to a minimum. Without waiting for a response, she sat across from the old man and just smiled for a moment.

Then, she realized he might not speak Nari well. In fact, he might not speak it at all! Kanri felt bad. That was not very hospitable of her.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure it was okay if I sit here. I'm going to eat here too, not just sit. That's okay, right?" Kanri offered in Common. Most people spoke Common so she figured that would be a safe bet. Kanri couldn't form as long of words sometimes in Common but she loved languages. However, Common sometimes just sounded too smooth. She preferred her own language to most of the others she had heard about.

She smiled again at the old man and forced herself to slowly chew her meal. Manners might be important to the foreigner. "My name is Kanri, by the way. It's nice to meet you! What's yours?"

[Strig]

Strig’s awareness had faded anything to nothing but the remains of his soup when a few shrill clicks and whistles caught his ear. His ear isolated the sounds from the din of the hall, picking up what few words he understood. "Hey! I'm ..... .. sit ….. .. …. okay?” Peering up from his bowl, he saw a young Inarta girl standing in front of him. The girl carried a small tray of food, still steaming off of the plate, her hair seemed damp in the candlelight but she did not seem as threatening as some of the others in the hall. Strig relaxed. She must have asked him if she could eat near him… regardless, she didn’t give him the chance to refuse, sitting down immediately. She smiled for a moment and Strig paused. His mentor Dreg had neglected to inform him of the cultural niceties in Wind Reach. Is a girl her age considered a woman and thus called madam? Should he shake her hand, or offer some of his soup? He looked down at the droplets that remained in the bowl and frowned. So many mannerisms that would be natural to an Inarta eluded him here and he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit frustrated. Suddenly the voice of Dreg whispered in his mind, a memory from their time travelling together. [”The Inartan are a lot like the Isur … except in the ways that they are not, obviously. They are spirited while your people are aloof. They shout and you whisper… if you ever find yourself in their company without me just… ehm… think of what an Isur would do and then do the opposite of that… unless it’s murder… that doesn’t sit to well with the eagle folk…] Obviously he had paused for too long for the girl started to speak again, this time in guttural tongue of common. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure it was okay if I sit here. I'm going to eat here too, not just sit. That's okay, right?"” Strig raised an eyebrow and nodded, full aware of how puzzled he must look.. She sounded as nervous as he felt… but that may just be the language choice. While she said each word correctly, her accent marked her as someone who was not comfortable with its use. Common was a second language to her and she didn’t seem to enjoy speaking it. Strig smiled, they had that in common at the very least. She spoke again. “My name is Kanri, by the way. It's nice to meet you! What's yours?" [I should greet her warmly… yes, that’s something an Isur would definityly not do….] ”May the mountain sun smile on you Kanri Inarta” Strig replied in Isur. No doubt she couldn’t understand what he had said, but it was the warmest sentnece he oculd think of in his cold native tongue… he hoped she would recognise that he spoke her name at least and from there assume that he greeted her… hopefully. Strig made a mental note to make more of an effort to learn Nari in future for this level of communication with the city’s inhabitants just wouldn’t do. He smiled and bowed softly in her direction switching to Common. It wasn’t perfect, but he assumed that she’d understand the gist of it. “My name is Strig from…" He widened his arms "...from the big hills in the east.” The Common word for ‘the mountains’ escaped him at that moment, but he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much. He bowed again while pushing his empty bowl out of the way before biting on his bread. Strig chewed it softly, ignoring the niggling hunger that still snapped at him. “What is your trade Miss Kanri?” Strig asked, hoping to find a safe topic for conversation.

[Kanri]

The man said something in his own language. She thought she caught her name in the cold, hard phrase, but was not quite sure. It sounded a bit emotionless, almost like if a stone tried to greet her. Then, he addressed her in Common and she had to stifle a sigh of relief. It would have been tough if they did not speak the same language.

"My name is Strig from... from the big hills in the east," he told her, widening his arms as a gesture. He must mean the mountains, Kanri decided. Then, he bowed his head. Was something wrong? Was she supposed to bow back? She didn't know but she inclined her head slightly, just in case.

"What is your trade, Miss Kanri?" the old man asked.

Kanri smiled, for two reasons. Firstly, he had called her "Miss". The Inartans rarely used prefixes like that and it only went to show how little he knew about where she was. But as intelligent it made her feel, she wasn't about to correct him. Secondly, he didn't know what he was getting himself into. But she forced herself to speak at a normal pace, despite wanting to launch into a monologue at sky diving speed.

"I am an Avora and I help my mother with glassblowing. I am not as good as I should be but I am getting better. But I don't feel as though I can... can express myself properly with my glass work. I feel so... restrained sometimes--'Restrained', is right there I think--but I suppose that is primarily my own fault. I feel like I am... I cannot say what I want about myself with my glassblowing. Someday, I want to tell stories and travel all around the world and learn everything. That is why it is wonderful to see... people who are not Inartan in Wind Reach. It is like a window to the world! You should tell me all things about where you came from. Things like 'What do you eat?' and 'How do you dress differently?' and 'What things do you laugh at?' and 'What colors represent the Culture?' and all things else."

Kanri realized she was babbling but she went on shamelessly, barely stopping for breath. She might have even thrown in some Nari words but she wasn't paying attention to everything any more.

"There is so little I know that I want to know. We live up here in our mount, er, big hill, Mount Skyinarta, and we keep to ourselves and just think about things that concern us. How could we not? We have enough of our own problems. But sometimes, I just think we only focus on what we want and need. If we did not think about ourselves all the time, we would... know we are lucky people."

Kanri forgot some of the longer words, but since he was not so spectacular with Common himself, he probably would not care. She probably bored people with her long monologues and she tried to keep them short but she always found ways to go on longer tangents. Maybe if she was more active instead of just thinking about everything, and then coming to incorrect conclusions, she would not go on these boring soliloquys. At least, boring for other people.

"Sorry for talking a lot. I know I can talk too much sometimes," Kanri told him when she had finished, looking down at her soup a little awkwardly.

[Strig]

The Inarta girl, Kanri bowed woodenly, telling him that such a greeting was not normal among the Inarta… or at least it was not common for a foreignor and child to bow to eachother. Strig filed the information away for future use. Kanri smiled when he addressed her though, so he must have done something right. Strig allowed himself a small, smug smile, the Isur and the Inarta are not so different afterall, he would probably have their entire culture figured out for himself in less than a season. Suddenly Kanri exploded into a monologue of information, she spoke with vigor, her tongue tripping over itself as she spoke in common, often putting a few words of Nari in by accident as well. Fortunately, Strig was able to get a reasonably good idea of what she was saying. "I am an Avora and I help my mother with glassblowing. I am not aswell as I should be but I am getting better. But I don't feel as though I can... can interest myself properly with my glass work. I feel so... restrained sometimes--'Restrained', is right there I think--but I suppose that is primarily my own fault.” Despite being a non-native speaker, she could speak common faster than most travellers and it took most of Strig’s concentration to keep up with her. His optimistic thoughts quickly turned to dismay. “I feel like I am... I cannot talk what I want about myself with my glassblowing.” Did she say glassblowing? Yet another thing that reminded Strig of home… “Everyday, want to tell stories and travel all around the world and learn everything. That is why it is wonderful to see... people who are not Inartan in Sky lands. It is like a window to the world!” Strig smiled softly, he could relate to that hope. “You should tell me all things about where you came from. Things like 'Who do you eat?' (Strig raised an eyebrow) and 'How do you dress differently?' and 'What things do you laugh at?' and 'What colors represent the Culture?' and all things else." Seeing Kanri their, the enthusiasm shining in her eyes, brought Strig back to his younger days, sitting on the crates by the stalls with his bare feet lightly kicking the air as he annoyed Master Dreg, constantly asking him questions about his former home of Wind Reach. [‘Is is true that they ride on eagles that are bigger than a house? My brother told me that they can pin an insect to a tree with an arrow without killing it, can they really? I heard that the Inarta can turn into birds and they hunt men and shape the air like our people shape stone, is that true?’ The memory made him smile. "There is so little I know that I want to know. We live up here in our mount, er, big hill, Mount Skyinarta, and we keep to ourselves and just think about things that concern us. How could we not? We have enough of our own problems. But sometimes, I just think we only focus on what we want and need. If we did not think about ourselves all the time, we would... know we are lucky people." It was strange hearing that, in many ways his people were similar, their eyes to the ground and never taking the time to look around them. After hearing so much of the freedom that the Inarta enjoyed… Strig was disappointed to hear that observation from someone so young. Strig took a moment to process what Kanri had said, her comments on her society, the trade that she shared with her mother. The silence stretched for longer than it should have when Strig realised stupidly that the girl wanted him to talk back. He sighed at his stupidity. But what could he say? Looking at the girl, Strig wondered how much information would be enough to notify the guards that there was a runaway nobleman in their midst. If his brothers knew of his whereabouts, they would probably offer a reward for his culture. Strig smirked. [I bet they’re getting tired of melting their own steel]… what harm could such a young girl inflict? “My homeland… Sultros…” Strig said carefully. “…is very similar to Wind Reach, we live in great hills that would tower over this volcano, my people only walk up to the surface when they need to trade or if they wish to stare the clouds that swim below us… There are thousands of us living deep underground… there is much space down there if you’re willing to dig for it… You said you are a glassblower? My people have many such craftsmen. I once saw a blower sell coloured, shimmering baubles as light as a feather but would neither melt nor shatter. Glass arrowtips as strong as steel and redder than blood. The great forges of Sultros are larger than this very hall!” Strig boasted, throwing his arms around him, feeling the slightest glimmer of pride for his nation. “Our food is simple, as are our clothes, we live longer than humans, so we hold grudges for decades and these pass on to our children and our children’s children… Few Isur who are alive today were even born when some of the oldest feuds began, many defend the honor of men and women who are not even alive to be offended… it is our way, I suppose, it breaks the monotony of such long lives.” Strig cracked a small sarcastic smile. “If you have such a... desire to see the world... what’s stopping you from leaving Wind Reach?” Strig asked, biting off another hunk of bread.

[Kanri]

The old man did not seem to mind Kanri rambling and began to answer her questions. He said he lived in Sultros, an underground city like Wind Reach. But it also sounded much bigger. He described forges the size of the whole eating hall and glass arrow tips strong as steel and the crimson of blood. He said he lived for a really long time too, so long that the oldest among sounded to be generations of Inarta old. But they sounded like they had a lot of hate, but Kanri did not ask. She did not hate anyone, yet, so she couldn't imagine bearing a grudge for years.

The glass in particular intrigued her. Now, she had many more questions. "If they did not melt, then how were they crafted in the first place? And what stopped them from breaking when they were bashed against something? Was it magic? Or maybe, was it some sort of special glass the Inartas have never heard of?" Kanri wondered, fascinated.

Then, he asked the question that Kanri had asked herself many times, without a sufficient answer: "If you have such a desire to see the world, what’s stopping you from leaving Wind Reach?”

Kanri sighed. She could feel the start of another soliloquy burning at her lips but she promised herself not to bore the man and keep it short.

"That which you ask, I have asked me before. When I imagine leaving, I always imagine it would be a grand feeling of facing endless possibility. But when I think about it logically, it would be terrifying. No home, no friends, no family... Where would I go? I have no friends or relations outside of Wind Reach, it would be such a lonely world. Being alone does not always bother me but I am still me. I need the companionship of others around me. This city, if it were not for each and every member, even the Dek, would not be whole. Everyone is needed here. It is almost unthinkable to live elsewhere. I have to stay here to help with my share of the work. And besides, I do not have the knowledge or skills to survive in the wilderness on my own. I took trips at a child out into the Unforgiving but I have lived a very sheltered life, here in my city.

All of this just adds up. Maybe you'll say I'm keeping myself in this city, not something else..."

[Strig]

Strig shrugged pleasantly at the question, straining his mind to try to remember anything from his childhood that might enlighten her... Magic perhaps? Or old technology? Strig often found that both were often indistinguishable from one another. His mind turned a blank. "Alas, I was not born into the glassmakers trade... I only remember what I saw when I was a boy; but what we build; no matter what the material or what the application was once known by many before the... end? The burning?" The Common word for the Valterrian suddenly slipped past his tongue. Strig resisted the urge to frown, his common was worse than he originally thought. The Isur shrugged apologetically, spinning his bowl lazily with his finger as he thought. He smiled and looked into her eyes, her troubles sounding all too familiar; similar thoughts plagued him when he was younger; he was sure it plagued his younger brother Ulson as well; before he ran away. "Don't worry Kanri, if you are meant to leave this city then the day will come and if not... it is very difficult to miss what you'ver never had. Not impossible, I now... but more difficult then if you were to take the journey and return." Strig smiled sadly, wishing he had the language skills to help her feel better... but it is as the old masters say The mountains are strong and the wind is free, but neither can influence the other... no matter how hard they try. "If you'd like, I could teach you some of the Isur tongue, in case such a time comes where you will go to the mountains. My people look on favorably to those who make an effort to learn their ways." He left the rest unsaid, that his xenophobic people had a habit of keeping foreigners outside the mountain if they did not impress them, leaving them out for either the cold, or the wolves or starvation to take them away. It would be a shame to see such a young girl to fail if she ever got aorund to leaving. "You'd have to teach me some Nari though" Strig added brightly, smiling wildly. "It would make my time here far more pleasant if I sounded like less of an oaf!"

[Kitchi]

Kitchi sat on one of the busier tables, chatter spilling around her but she didn't really pay attention to anything, focusing more on the soup in front of her. She stirred it occasionally with the spoon before dipping a portion of bread into the thick liquid. She waiting as the liquid drained itself into the sponge like bread before she pulled it out. Her blue eyes swivelled as she carefully chewed on the chunk of bread. They fell on the familiar elegant and small form of the girl Kitchi knew as Kanri, she was heading towards an unfamiliar male with long grey hair. Kitchi hesitated, she hadn't noticed him before. He stuck out in the mass of red hair, what race was he? Human? Kitchi pondered this as she observed the small girl starting to babble, the familiar clicks and whistles too far away for her to fully hear. A sudden movement and the girl was seated with the male. Their interactions were unusual, almost uncertain. Each seemed to incline their head, did they know each other? Was it some sort of secret greeting they had established? Kitchi coked her head with surprise as she glanced towards the pair. The words seemed to change, slower movements twisting unusually. Common tongue? Kitchi was impressed she could recognise it from so far away but why were they using common? Kitchi sat staring curiously as they continued babble, it seemed that clicking started to weave itself into the phrases which Kitchi found comical, although she suspected that she would be no better at conversing in the unfamiliar tongue. Slowly she finished her bread and glanced back down to the meagre remains of her soup. With another glance towards the stranger and Kanri Kitchi made up her mind and stood up. Her footsteps were muffled by the voices filling the air around her as she stared to head towards the pair she had been focused on.
“It would make my time here far more pleasant if I sounded like less of an oaf!" The strange grey haired male exclaimed. The pair didn't seem to notice Kitchi as she appeared besides them and silently took a seat.
“What's an oaf?” Kitchi queried slowly in common as she glanced between the two. The word was unfamiliar to her as well as the language, it felt strange on her tongue.

[Kanri]

Kanri smiled as the old man encouraged her. He was not being the most articulate person, though neither of them were. She nodded as he pointed out she could not miss something that she never had. It was good advice. Then, he offered to teach her the Isur language. Kanri immediately perked up. She thought she sensed some sort of warning tone to his voice, but she didn't care. The opportunity to learn another language, even just a few words, was thrilling.

Another girl suddenly joined them at the table, jumping right into the conversation. Kanri felt just a little sad that she wouldn't be the center of his attention any more but even though the bitterness crept into her voice just that little bit, she greeted Kitchi enthusiastically.

"Oh, hello Kitchi! Glad you could join us!" Kanri said in Common. She switched to Nari briefly. "An 'Oaf' is a insult that means stupid and clumsy."

She turned to Strig again, speaking in Common once more. "I'd love to learn a little bit of Isur. I can't promise I'll be any good at it. I will probably butcher the language. I feel bad already... But I'll try to teach you some more Nari and help you practice. I heard that Nari is often perceived as really shrill and clicky... So, when you say things, make sure they sound 'sharp' and 'crisp' enough and don't elongate sounds unnecessarily. Most foreigners are hard to understand because they try to extend their words more than they should," Kanri reflected carefully. She was always courteous of foreigners' longer accents but they always sounded really slow.

She listed off a few words in their language and words in Common. Unlike in some languages she knew about, she could not think of many cognates from Common to Nari. It was probably from Nari's unique sound, like bird calls. Kanri felt a burst of pride as she started really thinking about it. Wind Reach had to be a really special place, to have such a unique language and strong people. It was a warm place. It was strange that she dreamed of really leaving it all behind sometimes...

[Strig]

“What's an oaf?” Strig raised an eyebrow, a young woman had arrived at their table. Auburn hair flowed over her pale skin. He suddenly was aware of just how unkempt he must seem to the other two. Kanri answered her query with familiarity, but the enthusiasm seemed to have crept from her voice. He nodded at the woman, in case she wished to take a seat with them, hoping that she wouldn't be too lost in the conversation. Common certainly wasn't an easy tongue to master. Briefly, he considered Kanri's feelings toward the girl... was it an old rivalry? Jealously? Nervousness? The wheels turned in Strig's head as he considered the possiblities, parts of what Kanri had said being drowned out by his thoughts. "...Nari is often perceived as really shrill and clicky... So, when you say things, make sure they sound 'sharp' and 'crisp' enough and don't elongate sounds unnecessarily" Kanri sat up straighter as she spoke about her people. There was pride in her voice. Strig had grown up believing that the Isur were the only ones capable of such pride, that it was proof of their superiority towards the other, 'lesser races'. Strig didn't realize it there, but a part of him was releaved to find that this analysis was wrong. Apparently foreigners found it difficult to speak it? Perhaps few foreigners give it the attention and patience that it deserved. For all their flaws, the Isur were a patient people. Strig nodded. "So, this would be feather biscuit?" Strig asked, whistling bluntly and pointing at the bowl that was still spinning shallowly on the table. The clicks and whistles seemed unnatural on his tongue, music had never been one of his strong points and the harmony between the words spoken seemed almost impossible... almost. "The language of the Isur can be difficult to speak... it is often uncomfortable to converse in." Casually he pointed to things nearby, stating the word in Isur clearly and then repeating it in Common, looking at Kanri and the newcomer as he spoke. "Broth circle... Bowl" He gestured to the spinning piece. "Flat Top... Table" He rapped the wood with his knuckles. Strig pointed to the Inarta who were still waiting in line for their food. "Outsiders... Inarta." The language was cruel and clipped, like mountain stones being broken with an dull iron pickaxe, or the wood of a great tree groaning under the weight of winter ice. But there was a clarity in it, a precision that he was sure they would understand one day. The Isur had little need for shameless embellishment, for the need to lie to make things seem better. His people saw the world for what it was, cold and cruel, but also wild, random and beautiful... it was just a pity that the Isur seemed so afraid to embrace it.