Completed The Death of a Drykas

[Copper]

83rd, Winter, 513 AV Grassrider Pavilion He could hear the Ankal's voice on the other side of the curtain while he talked quietly with an Opal Order healer. They were speaking in hushed murmurs, but close enough that his acute hearing could pick it up. One ear was pricked and twisted in their direction. The other listened to Antea's soft breathing from underneath the pile of furs that worked to keep her warm. He was stretched out at her feet, perched at the edge of where she slept. She was bundled so high with blankets and pelts that she looked like a small child. They had given her something--a drink of sorts--to quiet the tossing and turning. Her son Joren, the previous Ankal, slipped into her screened off portion of the pavilion, looking even older than his ailing mother. Copper glanced out into the main room before the blankets fell closed behind the old Drykas. Lyrad--his son--and the Opral healer peeked inside with grave expressions before the wall hid them once more from view. "There is nothing we can do?" he heard Lyrad murmur. "I am afraid all that is in our power now is to make her comfortable before Dira comes," the fair haired healer admitted. Copper heard Lyrad sigh outside. It was a disappointed sound, full of anger and defeat. He turned his nose back to Antea. Joren sat on a low stool beside her and began to twiddle his thumbs. A thick silence lay over them in the small room. The Kelvic could smell the sickness in the air. It was heavy like the blankets that so desperately tried to keep the ancient woman warm. It oozed out of her like a foul sweat, and filled his lungs with each breath. "Her insides are failing," Joren finally said. Copper looked at him, both ears shoved forward in clear attention. "This healer says the same as the last two. It must be so, then." He saw the tears in the Drykas' eyes before the old man quickly brushed them away. It was growing dark out, marking the end of the long week in which Antea had been fighting to hang on. One of the grandchildren found her crumpled by the hearthfire six days ago. Joren and Lyrad had moved her here and called upon a healer immediately. The entire pavilion was taking turns watching her throughout the week, day and night. Copper found himself stretched out at her feet through most of it. The old woman had been a mother of sorts to him and reared him from puppyhood. He and Joren were never close, but it seemed their shared love for Antea birthed a sort of kinship between the two of them this past week. They had spent more time together these past six--nearly seven--days than they had the entirety of Copper's life among the Grassriders. Joren was a withdrawn, serious man, but the impending passing of his mother was breaking through the wall and showing a vulnerable side that not many of them had witnessed before.

[Copper]

Copper rose quietly from where he had been laying the past several bells. Joren's troubled blue eyes watched his weak mother's sleeping face as the Kelvic padded over and sat beside the stool on which he was perched. It was good to stretch his legs a little, but also to sit close to the patriarch. He watched the old Drykas out of the corner of one eye, with his ears flatted to his skull and his russet neck stretched out parallel to the ground. It was his way of offering submissive, quiet companionship, if only for a moment. Tired blue eyes looked at him in silence, but finally Joren placed a hand atop the dog's head and stroked an ear with his thumb. "Do you think she is in pain?" It was a simple question, but hard to answer nonetheless. A low whine escaped him, starting deep in the throat and ending on a high whistle through his wet nose. The healer said that the drink he'd given the old woman would numb any feeling and let her rest without interruption. Before the brew she had moaned and quietly cried in her sleep, trembling with a creased brow slick with sweat. Now, her soft and age-lined face was smoothed into a mask of contentment. He watched her in the growing darkness, ears coming up for a few heartbeats to listen to her slow, easy breathing. Finally the Kelvic gave a small jerk of his muzzle--a no. Again Joren's fingers massaged his soft ears. "I believe so as well. She looks at peace." The two of them fell into a more comfortable silence. The old man's hand moved down to the thick mantle of fur at Copper's neck and began to pet gently. It helped to relax the both of them; that small, friendly gesture. After a while, the curtain opened and in walked the healer once more. He was alone this time, unaccompanied by the Ankal. They both looked at him, and Joren stood. "I will be going back to my pavilion. If her condition changes for the worse, or she shows any signs of returning discomfort, send for me. Stay with her this evening. I am sorry, but I suspect she does not have much longer. The drink I mixed should ease her until the time comes." Joren nodded once, then sat again by his mother. The healer watched the old woman and her son with understanding blue eyes. "I wish I could do more," he finalized before turning and leaving them alone.

[Copper]

Joren dismissed himself a bell later to try and eat, but Copper stayed. They wanted someone with her at all times in case her condition changed. He settled down beside her pile and rested his snout against her shoulder, trying to help keep her warm. For a moment, he touched her exposed neck with his nose, but quickly pulled away. Her skin was cool, despite all of her layers. Another low whine escaped him, and he rolled onto his side so that the heat of his back would soak into her. The thick winter coat that weighed him down kept him warm and sometimes too hot. The Kelvic hoped it would help. Their pavilion was quiet and hushed. It was is if they tiptoed around the past few days, afraid that any loud noises would tip the old woman off her precarious balance at the edge of life. All was silent except for the occasional murmur outside the closed off bubble that the two of them seemed to be in. He could hear the life commencing outside the walls of the pavilion, but it was muffled. They'd hung layers of thick fabric inside this room to create a sound barrier and heat insulator. Copper soon found himself dozing, but managed to jerk awake a few times. Finally though, his heavy eyes closed and he slipped into sleep. He stirred once to the sound of curtains moving, but slipped quickly back into sleep. The stool beside them creaked and a sigh banished the silence before its heavy oppression once more settled over the pavilion. Syna had set, and Leth had risen, beckoning many of Endrykas to their beds. Copper missed the sound of nighttime insects humming in the grass. Winter was cold and quiet, and the Sea held its breath. His russet back rose and fell in easy slumber, while Antea fought on beside him. A hand touched the top of his head, and his eyes cracked open. The Kelvic expected to see Joren or another member of the family, but the old man was asleep and hunched on his stool. He searched the dark, startled. "Quiet now," a weak voice soothed him. Antea's eyes were open, and she mustered what was supposed to be a smile. "Did you have a good nap, son?" Copper touched her arm with his cool nose, and licked her arm once with a warm, wet tongue. "Time to go play outside, you hear? Your friends have been calling on you, but I told them you were resting." His ears pricked in confusion, and he raised his head to get a good look at her. Antea's hand fell away, settling back onto the pile of covers that buried her. She was looking at him, but her eyes were unfocused. Tears streaked her face, and she was shaking. Slowly, the hair on his shoulders stood on end. A long, low whine rumbled in his throat and Joren stirred on his stool. The old Drykas jerked upright and looked quickly to his mother. "What?" he mumbled groggily. When he saw her eyes open, it was like a splash of cold water, waking him instantly. He knelt beside her and took her hand in both of his. "You are awake," he breathed as tears pooled in his eyes. Joren pressed her hand to his cheek, and the tears soon left tracks over their intertwined fingers. Copper whined again, rising to his feet. "Hush, you," the Drykas grumbled. One hand gently smoothed the old mother's hair out of her face. "How do you feel, mother? Are you warm?" Her eyes turned up to focus on his face, which seemed to take a great deal of effort. A frown crossed her features, and she whimpered. "Joren? No, son. It is time." She blinked rapidly, then tried again to smile. Tears spilled down the sides of her lined face and into the thick white hair pillowing her head. Even now, it was decorated with loose braids in honor of her age and accomplishments. Somewhere under all of the blankets and furs, long ago inked Windmarks painted her a Drykas. "There is no pain," she assured them when Joren moaned in protest. "No regrets," she mumbled, sounding almost content and like her old self.

[Copper]

"Can you leave me alone with her awhile?" Joren asked quietly, without looking at him. He smoothed the hair off of Antea's face and stroked her damp cheek. The mother and son lapsed into silence, but the goodbyes were as clear as if they were speaking aloud. With fur still bristled, he padded out into the main room of the pavilion, ears pinned back and tail tucked. A few of the others were still awake, but none of the children were in sight. They had retired to their beds, leaving the adults to brood around the hearthfire. Copper moved closer to the ring of quiet Drykas and settled next to the Ankal's eldest daughter. She placed a hand atop his head and smiled sadly. He whined once and then fell silent. "Soon?" the Ankal asked from across the fire. Copper responded by laying his head on his folded paws. He turned his nose away from Antea's grandson and sighed quietly through his nostrils. Lyrad nodded and stared blankly into the crackling flames. "There is dinner left for you," his daughter murmured to him after a while. The Kelvic's ear flicked once in recognition, but he made no move to get up. He knew he could eat, but he had no real appetite at the moment. She petted his neck gently, running her long fingers through his soft fur then scratching him on the shoulder. He sighed again and half closed his eyes. "Should we retire, or wait a while longer?" she asked her father after another silence. Lyrad ran his hand across his neatly trimmed beard. Copper could hear the rasp of calloused fingers over the stiff facial hair. Many Drykas went clean shaven, but Lyrad and his father both sported groomed beards. Copper had never asked why. They all looked at the Ankal, wondering what to do. None of them could do anything to help Antea, and they weren't sure when the time would come. He licked his lips and sighed. "Those who are tired may sleep. I will stay up and wait." The Ankal's first wife rose from her spot by the fire and Copper watched, but she merely retrieved some more fuel for their fire. She fed a few small logs into the flames, sending a spray of sparks into the air. Other than that, no one moved.

[Copper]

It was only a while longer that they had to wait. Copper wasn't sure how long it was, but the time drug at a snail's pace. He eventually ate, though no more than a mouthful, and dozed at the Drykas' feet. When Joren finally returned, everyone snapped to attention. They all turned and stared at him, asking the same question with their eyes. He paused, letting the curtain fall back into place, then nodded once. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was pale with grief, but he stood with his shoulders squared. Whatever they had discussed, the weight was gone from his shoulders. There was acceptance on his face, mingled with mourning. It would be many days before the weight of Antea's passing lifted from the pavilion. Copper looked around at the men and women sitting by the fire. Tears streaked some faces, but loss etched lines in all of them. His chest felt hollow yet heavy all at once. He had never experienced loss before. Not of anyone close to him. He had seen it, and yet could not relate to those feeling it. Just last summer one of the women of the pavilion birthed a stillborn. She had grieved and keened for days until the healers came and helped her rest with a drink much like the one given to Antea. ______________________________ The next day, she was laid to rest. Many pavilions gathered to show their respect a few miles outside of Endrykas. Antea was swaddled in green cloth embroidered with intricate knotwork. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, hardened with frost and freezing wind. They placed her at the base of a twisted stone outcropping, in the open as was the custom. Here she could return to the earth and her bones would become her grave, scattered across the Sea in whatever manner the Sea chose. The wound of her passing would hurt for many a night, but they could all find comfort know that her spirit had returned to the Web. Offers were left to honor her, artfully arranged around her body. Dried flowers had been braided into her hair and her clothing was dusted with seeds. Wherever the body may be scattered, new life would grow where it touched come spring. There was no long ceremony, no heartfelt speeches. Goodbyes were said, and heads gave respectful bows. When it was done, they left what once was Antea there to be claimed by the Sea and returned home. The next few days were quieter--sadder--but in the coming weeks their pavilion found a new routine. Their nighttime fires were one Drykas shy, but the wound soon began to heal.

[Khida]

Copper

Skill	Points
Intelligence	+1
Observation	+1
Socialization	+3

• Grieving a lost family member
• Death rites of the Drykas
• Listening in with hound's ears
• Sharing warmth through contact
• The smell of sickness

Notes

A beautifully written, very poignant thread. Although Copper didn't do a lot of "socializing" in the conversational sense, I felt the attention to culture in this thread merited the XP, particularly since he doesn't have a 'Drykas culture' lore. I gave Intelligence for the initial eavesdropping.

Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade. Also, please edit your request to show this thread has been graded.