PM to join The Meaning of Home

[Khida]

Summer 4, 516 AV
morning

What meaning home, when the anchor by which its very definition was set had been torn away?

He lived still, she knew; the bond held. But the very width of the ocean had parted Kelvic from bondmate, and while she could point in which direction he might be found, Khida did not know how long it would take to fly there. How long she would have to essay over ocean, with neither food nor rest to be dependably found. Too long, whatever span it was, when set against his directives. His desires. His needs, need that had run as deep as the connection between them. Go home, he had told her, in visceral truths more powerful than words; danger, be safe, protect, and above all, go home.

But home was where he was. How did she go home without him?

The beat of home in the falcon's veins had driven her first to the crater they had once shared, the crucible of their affection. A place which had changed in its particulars -- some trees fallen, others growing tall, stream bank washed out, wolves denning in the cave they had once shared -- but not in its essential nature. Except... except for the fact that now, its nature included neither she nor he. Only memories dwelt in the crater, the echoes of a season long gone, heard only in the hollow chambers of her own heart.

Memories proved not enough to relieve the ache that tugged at Khida's soul.

Eventually, the bitter edges of incompatible needs had softened, ground to tolerable dullness against one another. Eventually, other ties began to reassert themselves -- ties less visceral and primal than the bond that defined her very self, but ones which carried a definite weight all their own. Eventually, the falcon had turned herself north, in flight abandoning the crater to its desolate present. The grasslands had passed beneath her with no more note than the fact of their existence; summer verdancy and vibrant flowers had only held meaning in that they might shelter prey to sustain her flight... or waiting predator to disrupt it. When the storms came, the falcon took shelter as shelter was needed, and flew as the weather allowed, moving ever on --

-- until the landscape changed in a manner even she couldn't disregard. Until the vista she overflew was not flowing grass, but grazed stubble, stalks cropped to earth by the passage of some great herd. A herd... of cattle, there; and of horses, farther on. Yet other clumps of grazers lay scattered both between and beyond the first, along with the shapes of wagons, of vast pavilion tents in the process of deconstruction, of men and women busily using the present break in the rain to their advantage.

Khida had attained Endrykas at last.

Home, said the beat of weary falcon wings, and for once, the Kelvic's heart forbore to demur.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Khida]

Endrykas alone was not the falcon's goal, however. She needed not the city proper, but one small corner of its expanse; one small herd of Striders and cattle and the Drykas they accompanied. Just one.

In the end, it was a horse which caught Khida's searching gaze. A horse that ambled out from amongst its companions, its attention drawn away where they continued to graze; a horse that looked up even as the falcon looked down, its ears pricked forward and posture intent; a horse that bobbed its head in what might even have been a directive for the bird to come down.

Her horse.

Her family.

The Kelvic let her own weight bear her down, deft adjustments of tail steering her descent towards the horse. Falcon talons struck the ground some few feet away, but it was a human shape that rose back up from it, the light of shapeshift flickering there-and-gone in the leaden gloom. Khida stood, gazing at the Strider; the mare gazed back; time stretched between them, measured in beats and breaths and the weight of absence, heavy all out of proportion to its negligible substance.

Then the mare bobbed her head again, stillness shattered. Sephra stepped forward, right on up to press against Khida's chest, whuffing at the woman's hair. For her part, Khida leaned into the Strider's bulk, chest to chest and cheek against neck, heedless of the water droplets beaded on the mare's coat. Rain's residue already slicked the woman's hair flat and dampened her bare skin; a little more was no hard trade-off for sake of the mare's natural warmth and the solid, supportive strength of her presence.

There was more to the Dawnwhisper encampment, of course, than one Strider mare alone; more that the falcon had seen as she descended from the endarkened sky and left to its own devices. Here and now, she needed this one moment, this one microcosm of peace and welcome and support all sufficient unto itself. Sephra had that in common with her bondmate; they loved, accepted, cherished -- and needed only the same given in return.

The humans, Khida expected to be more complicated.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

Naiya was fitful, the weather was poor, and the city was moving. Yet she felt she moved at a snail's pace, feet slogging through mud and limbs weighed down by every drop of rain that fell from the darkened sky. Her eyes turned to it with each rumble of thunder, each flash of light, like a mouse in the eyes of a hawk.

Her ankle was tightly wrapped, broken, but still manageable, at least it was now, although it seemed her second largest impairment. Her hand fell gently to her stomach, instant regret for her thoughts, for even beginning to think of her belly ,swollen with child, as a hindrance.

No, it was her own carelessness and the geht voune child, Amunet, that had caused her such troubles. Now she suffered her own stupidity, her own fear hovering in the sky as she imagined each dark variation in the clouds a zith ready to swoop down and carry her loved ones away.

She shook herself, forcing the feelings of sloth away. She needed to pack and she had hardly gotten anything done. She dreaded taking down the pavilion, her every move cause for concern, her every lingering moment a loss of precious ticks. They raced the city to be ready to leave, as most would move generally together, and she felt as though she'd done nothing at all.

She had to squat to reach the ground comfortably, and the position hurt her ankle, but she managed, instead kneeling to roll up the cloth and furs of her bed. She bundled them tightly, tucking in spare items as needed to speed things up. She didn't want to be left behind by the city, it was too dangerous and she was hardly the best defense for her family now.

Snorts from the horses called her attention, and she grabbed her spear in fear before moving out into the open of the pavilion, seeking whatever had upset the horses.

It was a far less threatening figure that found her eye. As she scanned the herd and the horizon shock and disbelief overtook her form as she found a sight most welcomed.

"Khida." The name parted her lips in a sound of relief and happiness. She was wrapped in the embrace of her strider, and the sight was enough to bring tears to Naiya's eyes. Oh, sweet relief, it filled her, lifting a weight from her shoulders as she moved carefully forward to greet her wife.

Khida was here, she was returned safely, and now there was only one more of their family they missed. How Khida must hurt for Shahar, it was only fitting, and Naiya mourned still for them all... and yet, her heart was lifted by what lay before her eyes.

Greetings she signed simply once the woman's attention shifted to her, missed you, glad you are safe. Safe and sound, home. These were the things that mattered in the moment, that they would be able to share once more their family, and the work to be done. Grief, too, would be shared, but for now she was simply happy.

[Seirei Dawnwhisper]

It's nice to be able to squat down, and not feel like you're about to fall over. Seirei mused to herself as she rolled up her bedroll carefully.

Lukar and Lira were trying to "help" with one of the furs, but their efforts were more like sitting in the middle of the fur, and tugging at tufts of it. This seemed to amuse them greatly, as they chortled and babbled amongst themselves. Taerin was having more luck with her own task, which entailed gathering up the various chests and packs they owned between them, and moving them out of the tent so they could be packed onto the wagon for travel. As she did so, she kept a close eye on Raiden, and Teirue. The two infants were awake, but they were content for the tick to simply watch the world around them with wide eyed fascination.

Seirei's efforts came to an abrupt halt when she heard a commotion outside. Something had startled the herd. Knowing that that something might be a threat to her family, she motioned for Taerin to stay inside with the children. She paused long enough to grab her short bow, string it, and grab an arrow. Then she emerged from her tent as quietly as she could, and looked around to see what had startled the herd.

Khida had returned. Joy, and relief mingled within Seirei as she watched Naiya approach her wife. Seirei hung back, feeling that Naiya needed some time alone with Khida before Seirei intruded on them. So she ducked back into her tent briefly to set her bow and arrow down, signing a quick all clear, no danger to reassure Taerin before heading back out.

This time, she did approach Naiya and Khida with a warm greeting and welcome of her own. She didn't ask any questions. Khida would tell them as much, or as little as she wanted to when she was ready. Instead, she smiled.

"We missed you." she said simply.

Glad you are safe, Welcome home.

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[Khida]

The prickling of Khida's hair on her neck hinted at someone else's sustained regard; so did motion at the edge of her vision, motion of a size and speed easily categorized in her mind as human. Not least because here was Endrykas, and in Endrykas, humans were expected sights. But as the figure kept its distance, albeit a short one, Khida didn't turn until she was good and ready -- until Sephra, having sufficiently reaffirmed her place in Khida's paradigm, whuffed and nudged her on.

At last, Khida turned towards the Pavilion's human members, shaking wet hair back out of her face. Her profile had been pared down to lines and angles during her absence, by long days of hunting and long days of flight; it offered sharp contrast now to Naiya's increased girth. Her amber eyes were shadowed, the lines of her expression taut in a manner not usual for the Kelvic, but she met two of her wife and sister's gestures in kind: greetings, and safe.

Safe. Khida breathed out, looking past their wife, past their sister, towards the western horizon. Safe. Yes, she was that. And so was he -- inasmuch as he was still alive, still bonded to her. But he was still...

...not here, her hands shaped unprompted, the sign made slow and ragged. Not surprise, for she had known he was not here; the distance between them still felt too great. Not surprise, but a lament, expression of the ache she had carried alone for too long. Water pricked at her eyes, and Khida blinked furiously against its blurring of her gaze.

Not here, she signed again more strongly, padding forward towards the woman who was also his wife, instinctively seeking the greater comfort of proximity. The Kelvic reached up to Naiya's hair, brushing rain-matted strands back from around her face, preening them into line as she was sometimes wont to do -- most of all with her bondmate. The echo of those memories drew her lips into a thin line, and Khida took half a step back, though not without one last pass of fingers through red hair.

Her gaze flicked past their wife to Seirei. Missed you, their sister had said; the smile of the words lingered still on her lips. It was not an expression Khida echoed back -- she was not much given to smiles in any circumstance -- but the simple welcomes, the love and acceptance their gestures promised, were as a balm on her soul. She tilted her head back, letting the rain wash down her face, drawing in a deep breath. He was not here... but they loved her too, and she them, and it was better to be together in that love than to struggle alone with the thinness currently haunting her life.

The Kelvic felt the rightness of this already, resolution slotting into place in her soul, though she had only had human feet on the ground for chimes. Yes. He was not here...

...but she would keep his home, this home, safe for him to return to.

Yes, Khida signed, the motion of her hands now crisp and definite. Home.

Good to be home.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

Khida's regard turned to her, eyes sharp, made more so by the tapering of her body. It would seem the woman had fared similarly as they. Naiya moved forward to greet her properly, seeking a solid reassurance that her wife had indeed come home. Khida echoed their signs, meeting them both with her gaze before her eyes shifted away, out into the grass.

Her features were held with a tightness that was unfamiliar to Naiya, a tension that she could feel shared between them. Her return brought back the hollow ache of absence, the lacking that hung amidst the tents, echoed in the lamenting sign of her hands.

It was painful, for Naiya, to see the other woman's tears, an occurrence she had not witnessed before, made all the worse for her shared sorrow. For Khida was right, although they were together he was still missing from them. It was a spiritual pain, one soothed by the balm of Khida's presence, her gentle fingers in her hair.

Naiya reached out in return, simply tracing the taught lines of her wife's face, pressing hair back behind the other's ears. Her hands fell to her shoulders as she took in the sight of her wife, seeking poor health or injury, allowing her hands to slip across wet skin down to grasp Khida's hand for just a moment as the woman stepped away.

She watched the woman, her face turned towards the sky, the strain in her features enough to bring tears to Naiya's own eyes. She could imagine the woman's sense of loss, she had been able to give chase in ways Naiya could not, and yet neither of them had been strong enough to protect their husband. He was gone, but he had not left them alone. His absence was an entity in its own right, just as Khida's absence had been so apparent in their large home.

Now she was returned, but still, as Khida had so clearly put it, Shahar was not here. They were one person closer to having their family back. Yet the hole remained, the space Shahar was meant to fill.

Her heart ached, but her wife was home, and her sister remained. Thunder rumbled in the sky overhead, a reminder that the rain had not given up.

"Are you well, Khida, healthy?" uninjured, inquiry. She asked, gentle, but she knew Khida understood the push of work to be done. They would catch up as they moved, there was riding to be done soon, a perfect time for talk.

She waded, between belly and ankle, towards the pavilion once more. Pulling the spear back inside with her, not to be left unaware in the summertime. She emerged with the bedding, lifted with a mind to the scars across her chest. The healer had fixed them, but she had little faith in the woman's work. The placed the bedding beneath the shelter of the wagon's cover.

Want clothing, offering Naiya asked, signing when she caught the woman's eye. "Like mine," She gestured to the loin cloth and breast band, an adjustment to her clothing that had helped accommodate the changing size of her breasts and belly. The scraps from making both her and Seirei's summer clothing would easily take hasty form of similar wear for her wife. Nudity was not uncommon, but to walk and work in the city naked was less than comfortable. To ride so was only worse.

[Seirei Dawnwhisper]

Khida's tears, and signs were a painful thing to see. They spoke of Shahar's absence. And while Seirei was not married to him the way Naiya and Khida were, she loved him like a brother. His absence was felt every day in a thousand ways. Khida's return could not fill the hole left by Shahar's absence, but they were one step closer to having their family complete once more.

When Naiya asked if Khida was well, Seirei listened intently, needing to know the answer. She felt the need to do something to welcome Khida back. Naiya offered her clothes. Seirei didn't know what she could offer. A spear? Khida was a hunter, but she worked mostly with traps. Would a spear be of any use to her? Seirei wasn't even sure she could make a good one, anyway. She could carve the stick, and the bone blade that made up the spear easily enough. But joining them together? Seirei wasn't at all sure how well her efforts would hold up. A bone knife might be of more use, but time was an issue as well. They would be moving on soon. She didn't have the bells she would need to carve a knife right now. Perhaps once they got settled into their next camp, Seirei could offer to make Khida a knife. For now, though...

"Are you hungry? Or thirsty? I could get you something to eat." she offered hesitantly.

Seirei wasn't a good cook, but she was learning. She could make tea if Khida was thirsty. And there would be some food already prepared that Seirei could get if she was hungry. She might even be able to make something simple, like oatmeal.

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[Khida]

Their wife's hand grasped hers as she moved aside, not snatching nor clinging but warmly affirming, in much the same timbre as their brief mutual preening; Khida let the contact linger, until the step she was taking at last drew them apart. Asked if she was well, the Kelvic hesitated, her manner diffident; the clarifying term healthy eluded her, and as the rain dripped down her skin, her thoughts hung on the phrase she did comprehend. Well. Well was a word for contentment, satisfaction, agreement; it belonged in the context of bright skies and fruitful hunts, sleepy benedictions and shared meals, where solitude was never ever the same as being alone. She had not felt alone since they had bonded, not until that day.

Well was not a word Khida would have chosen to describe her state now.

But what word could she give the woman instead? Not even in Common could the Kelvic find one or two or even a whole sentence to encapsulate how she felt; how to describe the sensation of a heart beating strong yet separated from its body by a margin so great she could not fathom it. Yet it was not about hearts, not about something so concrete and physical; it was something she could not touch, could not see, could not define... yet she knew it as intimately as breath and will. Even thin and stretched, for as close as they came, did not seem sufficient of themselves -- for to her awareness the bond retained all its essential strength, as vital and vibrant as it had ever been.

For her to begin to say all that in Pavi... was outright impossible.

Small, Khida let her hands speak for her at last; small and far. The gestures as good as said nothing at all, bereft of all context physical or emotional, yet they were all that she had to give.

Their wife took herself to the tent after that, resuming the business of loading the wagon; after all, Endrykas was moving. The falcon had seen. Of course they were going with it; they always did. Their sister hung back, in the way she often did, near and yet apart. Motivated by an impulse she could not name, Khida padded across the distance between them, fingers reaching to sift through Seirei's rain-damp hair as they had through Naiya's. For all the import of family, and the girl's place within it, the tactile endearment was not one Khida was wont to turn towards her; but it felt right to the Kelvic in this moment, this here and now.

They were here. They were important. All of them.

Their sister asked was she hungry, was she thirsty; simple questions, far easier than the all but existential quandary Khida had been set just prior. Withdrawing her hands, she signed negation, waving in the direction of the wagon. We go, she added, elaboration bridging into a final comment. Food, after, all together.

There was a time to eat, and a time to do. With the wagon half-packed, the city pulling up its tents, gray foreboding looming overhead, this time seemed to belong decisively in the other category.

Their wife had offered clothes; abbreviated clothes, if the Kelvic interpreted the tone of her gesture correctly, but that was not a drawback to her. Not even in her present dampness; doing, the loading of the wagon, would offset that soon enough. Yes, she replied with a nod, a simple answer matched to a simple question.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Naiya]

Come, near Her hands quick, the signs short, but with added softness of a great care that motivated her. She turned to dig out of the fabric stores, a task managed around her girth, pulling out the black cloth that had formed the first two garments. She found the thinnest scrap as Khida approached, the one best suited to the top.

She considered giving Khida options for how to wear it, but then discarded the thought, she would want ease of removal, and less hassle. Together it formed a simple binding, one she could picture in her mind fairly easily.

Proximity brought her mind back to the emotion of the day, and Naiya toook another moment to admire her wife, the presence of her near, she reached out again, just to touch. She was so many things in that moment, home, family, mine, the signs shaped without real thought behind how they might come across she was just overwhelmed and her sifting of words in her hands and posture surely made that clear.

"Arms like this," she told Khida, lifting both her arms out to the side, the long cloth trailing from her hand. She wound the cloth around Khida's ribcage first, starting in the back and looping one end of the cloth beneath the other in the front so that they could pull each other tight. Then one strap covered each breast, moving up over each shoulder. She gave each band a few twists, tightening the cloth so that it would not feel as though it would slip. While Khida wouldn't mind the nudity, it was the inconvenience of such an event that would be bothersome. Twisted as they would go without causing discomfort, each strap went back down to the band at her back, tucking securely beneath the strap. Finally she flattened the cloth back out and bound it at the front so that Khida could untie it easily.

It was perhaps a bit complex, but it would save the woman the trouble of pulling at it should it feel like it was slipping. She let Khida fiddle with it as she desired while seeking the rest of the cloth, finding a rope worn soft to act as a belt. It wasn't the best looking solution, but it would hold until Naiya could make a proper belt. She folded fabric over the belt, creating a small excess in the middle, and held it out to Khida.

"Legs inside belt, outside cloth," She informed her, pointing to where she should step into the belt. She would tighten the rope around her hips when she had it up, but left the rest of the fiddling to her wife. It was perhaps a bit long, falling to nearly her knees, but it would serve it's purpose.

Acceptable inquiry the signs took shape on her hands briefly before Naiya did a bit of her own fussing with the cloth, then again with her hair, pressing it gently into place.

She wanted desperately to linger over her wife's arrival, to fall into the comfort and reassurance of her presence. Perhaps it showed in the pursing of her lips, and the moisture of her eyes. The looming threat of the dark skies promised her regrets if she fell into that trap. Instead a fragile smile took shape on her lips as she turned to face the camp.

Much left, do fast She told them, looking over the mess of things still about. She began to move, moving towards Seirei to share a moment with her as well, she was overjoyed at Khida's return, but it did not overshadow the gratitude she felt for Seirei.

Saiza, gratitude, gapee. "Are you well?" She patiently awaited a response, hands repeating their motion of chimes before, pressing hair beck from Seirei's face, behind both ears, and coming to rest on her shoulders.

She lingered a few ticks more, then turned back to work, gathering wetskins, checking their fill, and tacking them onto the yvas that would go with her on Wildfire's back. The movement allowed her distraction from the chaos in her mind, the part of her that expected Shahar to follow after Khida, appearing from the grass as easily as Khida had from the sky.

She moved again, only slightly off balance, as she gathered the odds and ends she could reach, stowing each item in the travois or wagon as the weather called for. "Perhaps, Seirei, you could put together food for travel? Lukar and Lira might help, cheese rolled in soft grain or fruit? Something that can be carried easily."

it was a gentle suggestion followed by a sign that promised understanding of other responsibilities that the woman had, in packing up things for the children while they moved as well as a number more others that needed addressing.

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Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant