Closed Nuisance

[Mayra]

64th of Spring, 515AV
8th Bell, Morning
Endrykas Outskirts

Mayra knew she would be little less than a fool to wander away from Endrykas, but the half-breed never had the best judgement. It had been exactly seventeen days, she had counted, since her first encounter with the Ixam. Out of utter curiosity, alongside the aide of her lack of knowledge on the coin values of civilization, Mayra had purchased a book on Ixam. The giant lizards were appealing to say the least, and after the encounter, it became an obsession.

And so, thanks to Mayra's utter lack of self-preservation, she found herself trekking along the edge of the tent city. Streams cut through the Sea of Grass, babbling between the rapid whistles of wind that occasionally picked up, which gaurded her ears from picking up any noise of value. There would be no rumble of feet to alert her of the Ixam's presence this time, but Mayra wasn't particularly betting that she would come across any. She as far too close to civilization, and she was sure the Ixam steered very clear of the horse-people. Instead, Mayra was looking down. She really had no goal with that day's walk. She simply wished to evade the curious and sometimes skeptical glances from the horse-people. She had seen one other Chaktawe within the camp, so she knew it was not her eyes, but Mayra was beginning to feel uneasy after only three days in the city. People suspected something of her, although what it was that caused them to narrow their brows in confusion, she did not know.

But the half-Zith was content with busing herself with a false hunt. In one pocket, a rather large fractures scale was gripped firmly between her fingers. She had picked up the odd object after her first encounter with the Ixam, and while she was sure it meant nothing, she was curious if she could find more traces of the Ixam. Of course, not this close to the city. Mayra reminded herself sourly. If she had a steed and the knowledge of how to ride one, she might've been braver, but with only her feet to the ground, she kept the nearest tent always in sight.

As her black eyes scanned the dew-ey grass beneath her, she found that she was following a trail. It was a thin line, but a clear interruption in the sparkling blades of lucisous green grass. Now that she recognized this line, Mayra glanced through the grass around her. She saw quite a few slivers of interrupted dew. Small and more scattered lines circled the few shrubbery that littered the stream-bed. They must be animal trails. Mayra concluded, starting her walk back up again. Once more, she glanced back at the warm orange tent that was closest to her. It was a few hundred feet away, but behind it she could see the smoke campfires of the other tents that encircled it, so she felt confident to move towards the stream-bed a little further.

Because the trail that she followed was no animal trail. The line was too thick, indicating a heaver tread, but Mayra had to assume it wasn't a sloppy one. She looked back at her own wavy trail, the product of her own inexperienced feet. She could traverse caverns and scale trees barefoot and with ease, but navigating the flat and soft expanse of grass seemed to throw her gate off as easily as The Mischief had over the waves. Of course the half-Chaktawe developed her sea-feet rather quickly when the bruises started forming. There was no such consequence on the flat grass, and so even though she had walked for most of her travel through it, her grace had disappeared.

But glancing at her own trail had helped her learn what these trails were. They were clearly a the trail of a humanoid. A much more graceful and measured step than her own, but still that of a two-legged humanoid. But this gave Mayra an idea. Stopping, the half-Zith stooped to slide her feet from her boots. Her socks were quickly dampened by the grass so she pulled those off too, stuffing the muddy boots in her pack. She didn't mind the extra bulk, it would only help hide her stubs anyway. Now, Mayra followed with a little more caution and a much quieter gate. She had no particular reason to follow these tracks, simple curiosity, but after only a few chimes, she found the owner of the trail she followed.

A figure was crouched over something a few yards away, on the edge of the stream she was following. In less than a second, Mayra found herself dropping to the ground. A sudden burst of playfulness overrode any possible thought on what this man, likely one of the horse-people, would be doing. At the moment she was caught in the sudden wish to play hunter, stalking the figure who's attention was clearly not on the safety of the stream to his back. Thankful that she had taken her boots off, Mayra raised herself once she had ensured she was not spotted and then took a few exaggeratedly light steps forward, trying to keep her gate as quiet as possible, unsure of whether the man was aware of her approach or not.

She didn't trust her stealth enough to walk to closely to him, so as soon as she was sure she could go no further without been heard, that is if she hadn't been heard already, Mayra crossed her arms behind her back, underneath her pack and spoke. "Hullo."

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

It had all happened so quickly. The strider had followed him to the water’s edge to drink. There was a low hissing sound. Cree went up on his powerful hindquarters, kicking his front legs forward, and bellowed. Dravite had ducked in an attempt to get clear of the horse’s path, stumbled and tripped. As he had rolled out of the strider’s shadow and heavy hooves, he heard another low hissing sound and then felt a sharp sting.

A guttural cry was ripped from the man’s throat as his strider bolter, cutting across the plain like a fish through water. A young Olive Python about two metres in length had latched onto Dravite’s flesh between neck and shoulder and quickly moved to wrap its body about his left arm as if it meant to squeeze the life from that which it had taken captive.

Dumbfounded and panic-stricken in response to the pain, Dravite was slow to react; catching sight of the head and black beady eyes set so close to his own face he could smell the dirt on it. As the python’s body began to slowly tighten its hold on the man’s arm, it jolted him to respond, and with his free hand he fumbled for the steel dagger on his belt. He snagged a finger on the edge of his hatchet before finding the hilt of his dagger. With the short, shape blade in hand he turned the pointed tip on the snake, pressing it into the animal’s body behind the head. The wet, glossy scales resisted at first and only caved when Dravite applied more pressure, turning to push his weight into the strike.

The short, sharp stab had done little but upset the snake, which let go of his bite hold on the man only to strike again, this time closer to the shoulder. Dravite growled and used the edge of the dagger to start carving into the side of the python’s neck. He closed his fist, for the pain was unrelenting; knuckles white on both hands, the snake didn’t go limp until the steel had cut through the hard muscle and severed the vertebrae.

Dravite lay there for a time taking quick, shallow gasps of air until the rush of adrenaline had subsided within his system. He sat up and unfurled the snake’s body from his arm before taking the head off out of spite. Instantly, he regretted his disrespectful act on the lifeless creature and whispered his apology to Caiyha, “Blood for blood, life for death.”

The horse lord stood up and stared down at the headless body of the python, thankful that he had been bitten by a non-venomous snake, though sometimes it was hard to tell; if the python hadn’t tried to squeeze his arm off he might have thought twice about the kill, for there was no coming back from the slow spread of poison.

Slowly the man went down on one knee and took the snake’s head to store in the pocket of his plain, black trousers. Blood seeped from the bite wounds, drawing a maze of thin, red rivers down over his bare chest and belly. They would soon dry and scab in the wind, though it probably wouldn’t hurt to wash. He wrapped up the python’s body to make it easier to carry back to camp; roasted snake was a favourite come meal time in the Windborne pavilion, though sometimes Dravite thought they just told themselves that to get by as there wasn’t much his people wouldn’t do to survive.

As he threaded the snake over his forearm he heard a faint rustle behind him and froze, closing his fingers tightly over the hilt of his dagger. The small hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end and his pulse quickened. The greeting spoken in a foreign lilt caused him to all but jump out of his skin. Dravite spun as he rose to face the stranger, his dagger held forward; stance threatening. All he saw at first glance was the woman’s soulless, black eyes, which caused him to drop his dagger and stumbled backwards. Had the snake’s untimely death summoned the goddess pictured in its reflection?

The Drykas man dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together, ready to beg her forgiveness when he noticed the strap of the stranger’s backpack fixed over arm, the midnight hair and subtly pointed teeth. She was not the goddess in the flesh but one of those rumoured newcomers that had been spotted drifting about Endrykas. Relieved and slightly embarrassed, Dravite got to his feet again and picked up his dagger, the headless snake still twisted about his arm loosely. “Hello,” he spoke in common, not as smooth off the tongue but perhaps better recognized by the stranger. .
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[Mayra]

As soon as she saw the flash of a blade her own hand flew to her hip. As quickly as he, she had her won weapon out poised before her as a barrier. She found herself lowering her body and widening her stance, almost as if she was ready to take flight. It was a behavior she learned from her father, although her lack of wings made it a pointless move. Baring her teeth her eyes flew wildly about his figure, immediately catching sight of the blood and snake. So that was what he was doing. Her instincts flew into overdrive and the half-Chaktawe found herself scuttling backward, an almost inaudible hiss falling from her tongue. But just as quickly as she did so, the man dropped his own knife. He seemed to be nearly as shocked by her as she was by him.

He seemed to recompose himself before she did, but all traces of her earlier mischievous mood had vanished. One eyebrow perk and she allowed her mouth to close, suddenly aware of the result of such a display of unusual teeth. This man was one of the horse-people. It was evident his is hard tanned skin and his tangled fashion of hair that everyone within the city but herself seemed to hold.Whoops, I didn't mean to spook you. Mayra almost said, but it would've been a complete lie. That was exactly what she had meant to do and it worked far better than she could have hoped.

As he straightened himself up, Mayra didn't move an inch, still holding her defensive poise until he spoke a greeting in common. She could already hear the thick accent and remembered these people didn't speak her language. In fact they rarely spoke at all, as she remembered Naiya, who merely waved her hands in various movements and expected the half-blood to understand. But with the sound of the greeting, Mayra straightened up. As quickly as she had unsheathed it, she slid her dagger back into its frog at her hip but did not take the steps forward again.

"How do you do it. In your... language, er whatever you all do here. Your hand-language. The sign for hello?" She asked, her behavior changing again completely. Embarrassment was nonexistent as far as Mayra was concerned, and transitioning between moods and emotions was just as foreign of a concept. She had already scared the man, it would only be less fun for him if she made no effort to at least comfort him. Humans liked to be comforted, and as far as she was aware these horse-people seemed human-like. With little timidity, Mayra brought her hand up to wave as she had learned in Alvadas. "Is it just this?"

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

Dravite was a man best described as a loyalist. Outsiders were something to guard one’s self and culture against, just like the land and all who occupied it were to be protected. His reluctance to give anything up was first evident in his posture and the subtle way in which he lifted his jaw, almost defiantly. His usually warm eyes had a coldness to them; uncertainty huddled in his shoulders causing the muscles there to tighten. He had just had a lucky escape from death, as the Python could have just as easily coiled its body around his neck in place of his arm, but as luck would have it, fate had seen to it two strangers paths should cross at this odd hour.

Slowly, signs of acceptance saw his stance visibly relax, his weight shifted off the back foot to his hip, his shoulders seemed as if they had dropped and the red shades of exhaustion that had moments ago blushed his cheeks, were all but gone now. Still, what a strange creature he was faced with. Her eyes both intrigued and disturbed him equally. Her teeth made her seem more animal than human, even her hair fell differently. Everything about the woman was alien, everything except her fluency in the common tongue.

Dravite's common was good, but he still had a lot to learn. There were 'holes' in his speech, words that seemed easy enough to learn that meant nothing in Pavi. He licked the edge of his lips, giving him a split second to consider Mayra’s words and come up with a sensible response. "Different pavilions, different greetings."

He raised his right hand and touched his brow with a hooked finger. "Dravite Windborne of the Emerald Clan, man of The Watch," he half spoke, half told in grassland sign, though figured the stranger would take enough from it to at least catch his name.

Dravite took a step back before looking out across the horizon to see if Cree, his strider, was within eyeshot. It wasn't the first and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last time that horse bolted on him, still, the more he worked with the animal the better he would come to understand his wayward behaviours. His gaze had only abandoned the stranger for a moment before he turned it on her again. He held up the snake and hissed before offering a warm smile which registered in his eyes. "Surprised me," he admitted as if to suggest this was what happened to those that surprised him.

The man's arm still felt a little numb after the attack, its blood supply slowly playing catch-up again. He opened and closed his fingers to stimulate the muscles and then went down on one knee, laying the headless snake out on the ground in front of him. Dravite fetched his dagger and cut from the end of the kinked tail, already growing stiff with death, up to the stubby end where the head had been. He pulled out the innards with his bare hand and then used the dagger once more to follow the same line down on the opposite side, dividing the snake so that he had two equal lengths.

His steel dagger was carefully cleaned and dried on the material of his black pants before he rose, offering half of the snake to Mayra. "You take, good eating when cooked by fire. Use skin for belt." .
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[Mayra]

"I'm Mayra." Mayra copied his movement as best she could. Of the Midra Bloodline from the Suli Tribe, daughter of Skull. She didn't roll her own address toward the man however. She would have been proud to claim her heritage, but as it was she was unsure of which half of her people were reacting so horribly too. And although she had not seen the worst of it a small trace of self-preservation kept her from revealing anything that one could not immediately see of her heritage. Pupil-less eyes flitted between Dravite's face and his arm now. At first she thought the blood was the snakes, but as the man flexed his own arm, she realized he had been bitten. Was it poisonous? Mayra grimaced. It would be just her luck to meet a incompetent cat trainer only to follow it with making the acquaintance of a dead-man. This city was odd.

Before she could say anything, he held the snake up, and a hiss sounded from somewhere. Having been concentrated on searching for signs of venom in Dravite, this sudden interruption to her concentration made Mayra hop backwards one more step before she realized the dead thing was headless. A frown creased her lips and she realized he was smiling now. "Surprised me." Mayra could hear the joke under his thick accent, at least she hoped it was a joke. Although she weilded a blade, she'd never actually used one, and if this horse-man had one of his horses near, she'd never outrun him...

But Dravite gave no more for the words, dropping to his knees, ignoring her for the moment. Mayra took the chance to creep closer to him, peering through the tall grass to see what he was doing with the thing. With a fluid movements, she watched the man undress the snake, removing its innards and stripping it of its scales. Her mouth parted slightly in awe as she watched him. He seemed to have little worry about the possibility of the snake being poisonous. In Kalea, it was nearly impossible to find a snake that was not, but it could be different in Cyphrus as far as she knew. The snakes in shop in Alvadas had all been pythons after all.

But before she really had time to think it over, he was done. He rose, and she rose with him, only to be presented with one of the lengths of the snake. Mayra only stared at it until he spoke again. "You take, good eating when cooked by fire. Use skin for belt." She glanced at the meat, before gingerly taking it.

"It's not venomous?" Mayra could feel the sticky meat in her hand, but kept it on only one hand so that she could swing her pack off of her shoulder. Sorting through her muddy shoes, Mayra grabbed her flint and steel from the bottom of the bag, showing it to Dravite. "I'm sure there is something flammable around here." She muttered and swung the pack back on her back so it was fully on her shoulder, covering the stubs that visibly showed through her shirt, and turned around, glancing at the bush she had hid behind when she was first going to sneak up on the man.

Stuffing the flint and steel into her pocket, she set towards it, draping the snake meat over the top of the bush. It was not so wet as the grass below them, but the leaves on it were green. Maybe not the best firewood, but it would do. Taking her knife, she slashed at the base of one of the branches as best she could. The dagger was not meant for cutting as much as slashing, but the wood still only gave partway. She did it twice more and settle with wriggling the branch from the short scrub. Twigs snapped as she dropped the branch to the ground, peering down the streambed for some rocks. Instead of finding a few, which she just hoped to pile onto a patch of shorter grass, she found one medium sized but flat rock only a fraction larger than her own small hand. She turned back to the man, grinning at him.

"If travelling across this wasteland taught me anything, I can make a fire from pretty much nothing." She tried to joke with the man, unaware of her dig at his lands. She simply wasn't used to eh flat expanse of grass and could only see it as a barren land instead of the rock and mountains of her Kalean home.

She grabbed the branch and set it on a rather sizable patch of dirt that was farther away from the healthy grass near the stream bed. Crouching near it, she started to strip the twigs of their green leaves, finding the driest pieces and separating them. As she did so, her intent for building a fire clear, her mind wandered back to the blood that seemed still fresh on Dravite's wound. She thought to offer him one of her socks to help catch any blood that may still be seeping from his shoulder, but realized the muddy wet thing would do little good. Could mud cause an infection? Probably. She didn't know much in the way of medicine, but she at least knew to put something on it.

"Hey." She turned to Dravite. "You okay?" She paused briefly in her work to face the man, and motioned towards her own arm. Maybe if he wasn't in too bad of shape she wouldn't have to worry about him bleeding out before she got to try the snake.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

Curiosity killed the cat. Pride would kill him. Dravite closed his fingers around the hilt of his dagger and squeezed until his knuckles were white; how dare she call his home a wasteland. Endrykas and The Sea of Grass was all Dravite truly knew of the world other than what his grandfather, Taloker, and some of the well-travelled Drykas had shared of their adventures, sitting around the clan fire pit of an evening. Still, Mayra smiled and that probably meant she wasn't about to butcher him when his back was turned.

Dravite swallowed his pride and felt his body relax again, though his jaw remained tight, teeth pressed together like a clamp. This stranger did things with little regard for the goddess and wellbeing of the land. Dravite found himself more concerned about the actions made by Mayra than he was about the slow loss of his own blood, and the bruising that ensued. It had been rather quick to follow, the yellowing of his sun kissed skin, outlining exactly where the snake had taken hold of him, not once but twice.

The man lifted his arm at Mayra's mention of it and turned it slowly to check that nothing had been broken of dislodged; satisfied that he would be okay and that it was no more than a flesh wound, Dravite moved closer to the stream bank to inspect Mayra's handy work. She had managed to find a small, flat stone about the size of his palm, but when she did not use it to dig out a pit, Dravite crouched setting his half of the snake aside before stealing the stone away from the arrangement Mayra had set up.

"Make fire in earth or Zulrav put it out," he explained as he used the stone to dig a shallow pit, just deep enough for what they needed.

The earth came away easy here, the sand, pebble mix was laced with moisture from the stream. He scooped out another load of earth from the pit before setting the flat stone at the bottom. "Caiyha see no waste," he spoke of the goddess his mother Lazuli had dedicated her life to.

"You know the first Witch?" Even as he asked the question he picked up the twigs Mayra had gathered and threw them at her feet. "Take only what we need. Never kill when death lies here."

Dravite rose and walked into the grass, returning moments later with a handful of dry grass from last summer that littered the ground everywhere. He had also managed to forage for a dead bush, bare of the leaves it had once sported. The man had used his hatchet to cut it away from the earth at the base and sat now, about two feet from the pit he had dug for the fire, chopping up the dead shrub into even lengths, or as even as he could make them.

He didn't seem cross of angered anymore by the comment Mayra had made and seen as she had asked after his wellbeing, a question he had ignored, Dravite took the opportunity to teach the foreigner a thing or two so that she didn't make the same mistakes in front of as less accepting horseman. Without another word, he piled the dry grass on top of the stone and the wood of the shrub on top of that. There was no order to the mess, other than the fact that the grass should go first as it was easier to light. He gathered up the twigs he had thrown at Mayra's feet and added them to the pile; after all, there was no point in wasting them now.

Satisfied with what he had created, Dravite got to his feet and pointed, "Cook snake."

He did not have his flint and steel handy or would have had a go at lighting the fire himself. Instead Dravite looked down the stream, shallow in places, but wide and deep enough in others that he would be able to wash. When he crouched down by the stream, most of the blood on his chest and belly had already dried, making it more difficult to wash away. He washed the puncture wounds well and balled up the long sleeves shirt that had been tied around his waist to wrap it around his shoulder instead. He would keep it there until the bleeding stopped, giving it a better chance to scab over.

When he realised suddenly that he had gone a while with his back turned to Mayra, he turned quickly to see that she wasn't sneaking up on him with dagger in hand. Dravite had never been fond of strangers, especially the kind with pointed teeth and eyes he could not read. "Home? Mayra's home? Which way?" .
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[Mayra]

Wheras she would have been content with methodically setting up the fire, Dravite had a different idea in mind. Before she had a chance to start stacking her twigs on it, he took her stone. "Hey! What are you--?"

"Make fire in earth or Zulrav put it out." In this moment he was calm with her, explaining something that she didn't understand, but Mayra knew she was making Dravite mad. His hand had brushed his dagger hilt enough that there was no missing it. She wasn't ignorant to that observation, but she chose to ignore it. So far this man put up with her well enough, with her ignorance, mood swings and brash attitude. She liked that about him, his patience, and as a result she wound up reflecting it back, although unintentionally. Whereas when she first got there, Mayra would have been perfectly content with not understanding this strange city's culture or traditions, she suddenly realized that any sort of socialization would require some sort of willingness to bend. And so she did. "Caiyha see no waste. You know the first Witch?"

"No, I don't know any of these people you are talking about. Who is Zulrav? Where is he?" She gave an exasperated motion to the empty grass that stretched out to one side of them and another in the direction of the city that was far enough away to see the approach of anyone. But Dravite hardly noticed.

"Take only what we need. Never kill when death lies here." And the faint thud of her own work lay at her feet.

"Buh-uh... Nnnnmm." Her mouth opened and closed twice letting half-worded protests fall from her lips. What was he doing? But she didn't say anything as he continued on his own work. He walked away from her, clearly focusing on his task. She found no anger in him, so it would hardly be fair for herself to get mad, so instead she looked at the crumpled mess of twigs at her feet. In Kalea you could make a fire out of anything, since everything was dry and had little leaves. The mountains kept the valleys moderately clear of wind so she had never thought to dig the pit, but once Dravite had done so, it made sense. Men. She rolled her eyes when he returned. He was right, he really was, but Mayra wanted to put a superficial excuse on her own incompetency in the foreign terrain.

But Mayra said nothing, resuming her silent approach and simply watched. There was plenty of burnt out and dead grass left from the winter before, and likely resulting from the rather dry season of spring. Why hadn't she thought of that? She looked up at Dravite then, less focused on his rhythmic chopping. She had so far been utterly ignored, or given confused looks, from the horse-people, or whatever they were called. Maybe it was her foreign appearance, or her mixed race, or her lack of understanding the language, who knew. But Dravite had decided to take the time and actually teach her something about him and his culture. It was more generous than she had seen in her few days there.

He built a crude pile of all the wood and dry grass, and then walked away again. Mayra let him go, focused now on the dirt pile he had left behind. She pulled the flint and steel from her pocket as he left with two departing words. "Cook snake." Even thought it was a command, Mayra did not defy it. The man knew what he was doing, that much had been shown. So whatever he was going to do was likely worth something. At least now she was of some use.

She took a moment to fix the pile of dead shrubbery before lighting. The tinder was laid down first, so that was good, but the dry sticks he had picked up were haphazardly strewn. If this fire was meant for cooking, that would be of no use, the flames would not be centered. Plucking her own, more fresh brush and leaves from the top of the fire, she set those aside. Re-separating the pile of things. The dry grass was already down, and she made a small pile of the budding leaves she had stripped from her branch and piled those in the center on top of the dry brush. From then she took his twigs, and hers. She would have liked to just throw her branches out as was. His were dry and of so much more use, but he had told her not to waste, so why disappoint him? Anyway he was pleasing this Caiyha Witch, apparently she had a claim on this land or something. Mayra couldn't help but roll her eyes at this. There was no one here but them, Caiyha and Zulrav had nothing to do with this moment.

After arranged the twigs to all be in the same direction, she took some of her fresh ones and made a skeleton of a dome in the fire. At least the general creation of the cooking fire would be the same despite where they were. With flint and steel, she hit them together a few times, angling the sparks toward the dry grass which took much quicker than she had thought. There was little coaxing she had to do as the fire took hold of what was now simply pure tinder. Quickly, Mayra begun adding the dry wood to the pile, carefully constructing the skeletal dome of wood. This wood was much softer and thinner than what she was used to back in Kalea, but the general concept was the same. Within a couple chimes she had managed to keep the fire going steady.

Satisfied that the fire would stay, she stood to grab the snake now, realizing she had no idea how to cook this. She had never eaten or heard of snake being eaten. Could it be made into stew? Was it a juicy meat? She assessed the sticky light pink meat, deciding it would have to be cooked all the way through for safety, but would it need to be closer or further from the fire?

Shrugging, Mayra decided to test a small piece first. Not wanting to cut out of his portion, she took her own dagger again and chopped a thin slice off the end of hers. Stabbing it with her dagger she held it near the fire, feeling the heat licking her fingertips. When she had bought the civilized weapon, its cool touch was something she hardly thought about. In fact it had taken her half a season to realize that not all metal was cool to the touch as her dagger was. But now it came in handy, with her fingers so close to the fire.

After a few chimes, she took the meat away from the fire, tapping it with her finger to test the heat. It was a little cooked, but she realized it would need much greater heat to actually be cooked. Standing up, Mayra searched for some sort of skewering device, suddenly realizing how much she missed the trees. In the Kalean forest, she could find a good straight twig just about anywhere, but with the small scattering of short, stout shrubbery she realized it was not so easy.

Guiltily, Mayra returned to the brush she had originally gotten her branch from, looking around for Dravite. But the horseman was nowhere in sight, and she took the chance to break off one of the thicker branches, which was only about the width of her thumb. She hurried back to their fire, using her dagger to sharpen the end of the stick and remove any smaller twigs that branched from it. She knew he would know, and likely be mad or disappointing. But she didn't care so much for this Caiyha woman as he did. Anyway, the 'First Witch' wasn't there to see them do it, how would she know? But Mayra still glanced over her shoulder towards the city once more before skewering the snake onto the stick.

By the time she had gotten both lengths of snake on the stick, and was holding it over the fire, constantly flipping sides, Dravite had returned. She looked at his arm, which had been cleaned and wrapped, which told her what he had disappeared to do, and she realized she couldn't see him because he had been in the stream-bed. "Home? Mayra's home? Which way?"

Mayra was crouched in front of the fire, focusing on keeping her meat from burning, and even though she had seen him approach, she didn't think he would immediately start talking. "Oh, ummm. North," She glanced up at the sun quickly before pointing in the direction. "I come from the mountains of Kalea." She informed him, before realizing he may have already noticed that she suddenly had a fresh branch for roasting. She had to distract him.

"Who is Caiyha Witch? And Zulrav?" Why would he be putting out our fire if we do it wrong and why would she be mad for using fresh branches? She wanted to add, thinking his reasons absurd. But he had taken these people very seriously when he mentioned them. Addressing them as she did Cyphrus would likely wield her the same result, the brush of his knife hilt. So the half-Zith held her tongue and reminded herself she was trying to stay on good terms.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

Zulrav, the strict god who calls in the night; his voice booms like thunder, and his caress is as gentle as a summer breeze. He is the wind and storm, a hurricane, and an icy gale. Everything on earth bows to him. His power can shape mountains and carve new rivers. His punishment is swift and often final. This the Drykas people know, this they have seen; but how does one explain such to an outsider in a language so less familiar than his own?

Dravite raked his fingertips over the sand slowly, picking it up only to let it fall through his fingers as if it passed through the eye of an hourglass. He took a tablespoon worth of earth and looked at Mayra to see if he had her attention before slowly blowing the sand from his palm. “Zulrav,” he explained; Mayra had successfully distracted him from her use of the sharpened branch. “Wind, rain, father of storms.”

The man couldn’t tell if Mayra was taking in what he spoke of; she looked both intrigued by his words and guilty about something. Overhead a small flock of black and grey sea birds raced through the sky in an arrowhead formation. Dravite looked up at them and pointed. “Caiyha.” Instantly he realised his mistake, for Mayra might confuse the First Witch with the sky, or animals alone.

His gaze roved over the countryside near and far, but found no trace of what he sought after. When he looked at the fireplace, he took his half of the snake and cut a slice off with his steel dagger, using it as a cooking tool just as Mayra had done. He held the pink flesh above the flames until it coiled, stiffened, and turned white. “Caiyha,” he said again as he held up the cut of meat before taking a bite, careful not to eat any of the bones.

An army of ants marched about through the undergrowth and Dravite pulled a small piece of snake meat away with his teeth to offer to them. They congregated around the cooked flesh, moving it this way and that, not quite strong enough to carry it away. “Big tree to tiny ant, Caiyha is everywhere,” Dravite spoke slowly as if he were unsure about the words he used. The last thing he wanted to do was put Mayra wrong, but he was no teacher, especially when forced to use the common tongue.

As he recycled one of the snake bones to pick his teeth clean, he thought about what the woman had said. She had said she was from the mountains in Kalea, but Dravite failed to understand how she had worked out the direction of north using the sun. He cut another slab of flesh away from the snake using his dagger and held it over the fire to cook; this piece would take a few more minutes as he hadn’t been paying much attention when he cut it away.

When his wrist grew tired from holding the dagger, he pushed the hilt into the soft earth and left the steaming wedge of meat to cool. Both hands free, he carefully peeled the snake skin away from the flesh, careful not to tear it and fetched his preserving kit from the pocket of his pants. “How do you tell north?” Dravite finally drummed up the courage to ask. “What god do mountain people of Kalea bow to?”

While he listened to the woman speak he had time to rub salt into the underside of the olive coloured snake skin in an attempt to preserve it. It would probably start to curl and shrink before he made it back to camp, where he would need to hang it up in the sun to complete the process. Dravite was careful to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, working the salt along the edge of the skin under the pad of his thumb. “North people all have dog teeth?” .
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[Mayra]

"Oh yeah. Your Gods." Mayra rolled her eyes in dismissal as Dravite's fractured common finally made sense. She was safe with the knowledge that most pupil-and-iris creatures had no idea how to read her eyes, which came in handy in cases like this when she forgot to control her reactions. She knew of the fantasies that the rest of the world came up with, but she had no wish to delude herself as everyone else did. It was just silly. But Mayra also knew that to challenge the fantasies would just be foolish. Her mother, for example, had taught her that the hard way. The most gentle and caring woman the half-breed had ever met had only slapped her once in all of her life. Sure she had faced her father's wrath many many times, but her mother never laid a hand on her until the day that Mayra challenged her 'Gods'. If her mother reacted so, there was no telling what this stranger may do, so it was best to stay silent on the matter.

Instead of continuing the conversation, since she had nothing to add on the topic, she turned her snake one more time over the fire. The pale pink meat had turned a golden white now and the small amount of face that encases the lean meat had dripped off into the fire, leaving whatever juice left sizzling on the stick. She took the skewer of snake meat back, sticking it in the dirt beside her to wait for it to cool. Ever since learning of the tasty new spice, salt, in Alvadas, she wanted to add it to everything. Something about that translucent powder was addicting, and it made the half-Zith almost get bored of normal meats and fruits. Of course, vegetables and grains were completely out of the question in her diet. So instead of doing anything with it, she only frowned at the bland meat, having no idea what it would taste like with or without salt.

But Mayra couldn't be distracted by the memory of salt for too long because Dravite was more than willing to fill the gaps in their conversation. "North? Oh." She flashed her teeth once more, glad she is able to answer his question. She had only learned to tell the direction a few days ago anyway. "It's actually really simple once you learn it." She scooted closer to the man, drawing a diamond in the patch of dirt between them. She labelled each point of the diamond with a letter: 'N', 'E', 'S' and 'W', with the 'S' closest to Dravite. "The sun always rises in the east and sets in the west." She pointed to the respective letters. "If you are facing east, north with always be on your left." She held up her left hand and pointed to the 'N' with her left to show him. " And reverse for the west. Mostly, if you remember the diamond, and can picture it in your head, you know which direction to go in. And I don't know how people figure that out at night." She shrugged, glad she knew as much as she did. Mostly she was proud because it was fairly new knowledge to her as well.

"What god do mountain people of Kalea bow to?" But then the Gods were back on subject. Mayra shook her head slightly. Why? She'd rather not make enemies today. But Mayra faintly remembered something her father worshiped. The Great... something. She didn't much care for the Zith fantasies either, nor was it a concept explained to the slaves, so she wouldn't have known much about it if she wanted to.

"My people don't worship 'Gods'." She tried to keep her voice as even as possible, but she couldn't help a small amount of sour touch the last words. Again, Mayra fell silent. There was no more conversation to be offered, and so she preferred the comfort of silence to trying to explain her thoughts to this stranger. Instead she watched him start to put something on his half of the snake. It took her a moment before realizing what the familiar smell was.

"Is that salt?" Her eyes lit up once she recognized the substance. But before she could prompt herself to ask this man for a pinch, she held her tongue. This man had already given her much in the meeting and she had nothing in return. There was no point in asking for more. Salt was expensive anyway. After her first taste, the half-zith had given up too many of the worthless chunks of metal for the rock. And that was in a city near the water...

"North people all have dog teeth?" He asked suddenly, and Mayra could not help a bark of laughter break from her lips. A grin spread across a pearly set of sharp teeth as she realized what he was talking about. He hardly seemed frightened about them, and frankly she had forgotten to be wary of that one outstanding detail of her heritage that this city hated so much. In a burst of playfulness, she let out a convincing snarl and snapped her teeth at the man, as a dog would, before chuckling once more.

"Don't all horse-men have horses?" She asked back, suddenly interested in the detail she had missed before. Didn't they? "But really, where is your mount?" She lost her smile, suddenly worried. She had not been in the city long, but the first thing she learned was the value of a mount in the city. She had never seen a horse-person without their horse and suddenly Dravite's lack of a steed stood out to her like the moon at night.

Common | Tawna | Thoughts | PC/NPC Talking

[Dravite]

Dravite was utterly enthralled by the woman’s explanation of navigating via the sun. He watched her every move, the way she traced the diamond in the earth with the tip of her finger and the corresponding letters used to signify all four points of north, east, south, and west. The horse lord scooted closer, almost forgetting he was in the presence of a stranger, and followed the line of Mayra’s drawing as she explained how it worked. He drew his own diamond in the sand, which took him at least three or four attempts to perfect; committing the shape to memory.

It was only Mayra’s confession of descending from a godless people that caused Dravite to lift his gaze and set it on her again. “Kalea have no gods,” he mouthed to himself, finding this fact to be among some of the strangest he had ever heard. Everyone he had come across in his culture followed one or another, but he never could have dreamed there were those who did not. Though his body language seemed relaxed enough now, his grey eyes still scrutinised the mixed blood; her eyes, her teeth, the line of her jaw, and too-black hair. What else was she hiding? The man suddenly thought to himself.

He went back to curing the snake skin for a time, rubbing in the salt until he was satisfied with his work. Dravite inspected the snake skin from top to bottom, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the nicks he had made with the hunting knife, before setting it aside. Naturally, his hand settled on his hip where he usually found his dagger and quietly remembered that he had left it near the fire with the snake flesh still cooking.

When he retrieved it the white flesh had blackened on one side and the steel of his blade was piping hot. It didn't smell too good and Dravite had already determined with one sniff that the charred meat probably tasted terrible too. He fed the overcooked slab of snake to the flames and used his steel dagger to cut through the raw meat he had set aside, the heated blade causing it to hiss as if the creature’s soul still remained within the butchered body.

“Is that salt?” Mayra had asked and when the man had nodded in response, she seemed to forget whatever else it was she sought to know, as if she had been about to ask but chose instead to answer his question with an amused bout of laughter.

Dravite smirked, the universal language of a smile distilling any phonological or cultural barriers that came between them momentarily. “Don’t all horse-men have horses?” Mayra quickly followed up with and Dravite, suddenly realising he had not seen Cree for some time, rose to his feet to look out across the plain.

He recalled going to ground near the water’s edge before he was attacked by the python and used his as his landmark to navigate which direction the horse had gone in. He stared at the distant horizon, holding his hand to his forehead to keep the sun from his eyes. “He comes back,” Dravite assured Mayra, though he seemed to be talking to himself.

When he sat down again and settled near the fire, he snatched the meat on the edge of his blade up and blew on it; another cut of snake ruined by his failure to pay attention, at least the ants would not starve. This time, he told himself, keeping a close eye on the roasting meat as he spoke to Mayra. “Not all Drykas have Striders. Some are never bonded. Only true Drykas accepted by children of the gods.”

He had lost track of time; talking with this stranger had not been on the agenda for today, then again, nor had the snake bite. Dravite ripped a bite of curled, white snake flesh from the end of his dagger and looked across at Mayra, asking the one question she had probably done well to avoid up until this point. “What does godless woman from Kalea seek in Endrykas?” .
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