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You are accepted to the Oracle Academie: your life is about to begin...FULL |
| [Introduction]
In a distant world, there is a tiny country called Oracle, named for the group of seers living in a mountain at its centre. These seers glance into the future, looking for children who are destined to do great things. if these destinies are threatened in any way, the child is sent a letter. "You are invited to attend the Oracle Academie” see
ANNOUNCEMENT: Hey Guys, I just want to check and make sure everyone who is part of this campfire still wants to be a part of it. I'm starting to note the people who I've been having to skip, and if it happens too often I'm just going to oust you, and assign your character to someone else. Long Live Oracle Academie! Love, ~Ebie |
| Hey everybody! I’m so glad this has finally started. I’d like to keep things going fairly quickly. I figure if you don’t post within five days, It’s time to move on to the next person. Hopefully that’s reasonable. I’d also like it if we kept the story moving too. Throw in surprises, add conflict, create new situations, just have fun. Oh, yeah, using other character’s is permitted, but keep in mind their personalities, and try to keep their actions reasonable. Anyway, here we go! Seraphine Benami Nicknames: Seraph, Serah, Raphi, Age: 13 Birthday: September first Nationality: Kulsaan Ethnicity: Yeshaian Year at school: Thirder (years are informally called Firster, segunder, Thirder and Upper) Appearance: small, thin, and straight black hair that she’s chopped to earlobe length, though the bangs are long enough to tuck behind her ears. Her eyes are light grey, with darker grey around the edge. (this confused her parents, both of whom have brown eyes. In fact, no other Yeshaian has grey eyes) Her face is narrow with sharp angles, small chin, strong nose, dark thin brows, stern mouth. Her skin is currently a medium dark tan, but will lighten up in the cooler climate. Personality: Seraph is one of those people who sometimes makes others uncomfortable. She doesn’t do anything untoward, she is just naturally sort of, unnatural. She is increadibly intense, and makes her peers think of a burning hot coal about to burst into flame at any second. She takes things (and people) fiercely and seriously. However, when it comes to conflict, she is cold, logical, and ruthless. She has a deepseated internal sense of right and wrong, and will follow her gut even if it entails some rule breaking. She has a very subtle sense of humor. She enjoys irony and oxymorons, allusion and juxtaposition. She doesn’t laugh at jokes. They just aren’t funny to her. Hobbies: Seraph has been somewhat overprotected at home (patriarchal society) so she hasn’t had a chance to develop interest in many things. Her main hobby was sneaking up to the horse corral and stealing off on a horse before anyone could catch her. she also enjoyed herding the goats, about the only thing she was allowed to do. Pets: Her Pony Faisel passed away over the summer. She is planning on going to the horse fair in Oracle City. Other: seraph has actually been at the Oracle Academie for two years, and is going into her third.. For some reason she was summoned at the age of ten, four years earlier than usual. For the first time there are going to be kids her age at the school, and she is excited and nervous. She thought about going back to the first year, but deicided that it would not be right, as the world needed her to finish school as quickly as possible. She’s worried that the other students will resent her for being summoned early, and knowing more than them. She speaks Kulsaani, Common (with a slight accent) and Yeshaian. Philosophy: Seek Justice Seraph was putting the last piece of her old clothing in the trunck at the end of her bed. The tang of cedar was exotic in her nose: her family had no furniture, and the wood of the tent didn’t smell like anything. Not that she had ever stayed in there long enough to notice. It was a miracle her cousin Shirit had even found her that day. Seraph had been sitting amoung her flock of goats,staring into liquid blue eyes, scratching their skin beneath the fine soft wool, where the sand sank down and itched. Shirit had come sprinting as fast as her stubby legs could take her, calling out every few seconds in yeshaian, “Seraphine! Seraphine? Bedder ae?” Seraphine heard the call and responded to the question as she rose, her head appearing from the sea of wolly bodies “I’m right here.” “Finnally!” exclaimed her cousin, dancing around excitedly. “I’ve been looking for ages! Auntie Malkah wants you.” “what for?” said Seraphine sullenly. “I don’t know, something!” replied the small girl ambiguously. Seraphine sighed in exasperation. “watch the sheep.” She commanded Shirit, and took of at a run for the tents. Her father and mother were sitting on the floor mat, lookin at something. They glanced up as she entered, their faces solemn. Her mother held out something small, white and rectangular. “It’s for you.” She said in her husky sweet voice. Seraphine glanced down at the letter in her hands. On the front was her name and address, what little she had. On the back, the flap was slealed by blue wax, imprinted with something she couldn’t quite make out. She opened it up, and pulled out the letter within. At the top was a crest bearing an owl surrounded by some kind of leafed branch, with a dimond above it and a saying in some obsure language below. She glanced down to the writing. “dear Miss Ben Ami, You have been Seen by the Oracle, and are formally requested and advised to begin attending the Oracle Academie this coming august. Congratulations.” Sincerely Yours, Sage Woodson, Headmaster. Serafine sighed as she broke out of the memory. She liked to ignore the part about the giant fuss her parents had made. She closed the trunk and latched it. Standing, she walked over the full length mirror at the side of her room and checked her uniform. Her Grey pants were smooth, her blouse crisp. Carefully she folded up the sleeves so her arms would be cooler. She looked cursorily at her face and hair, tucking a stray black strand behind her ear. “now, time to watch the firsters arrive.” She said to herself excitedly, and headed out to find a good vantage point. |
| "Name" Cala Age: 17 Birthday: May 24 Nationality and such: Born in Thana, but escaped as a child and found her way Andiria, her now adopted homeland. Year: Upper Appearance: Tall and graceful with long wavy black hair and large brown eyes. Fair skinned like most Thanians. She has two symbols tattooed on the back of her neck, one meaning 'sorrow' the other meaning 'memory.' Personality: Cala is very calm, laid back and kind. She is slow to anger and is also very self disciplined but she has a hard time dealing with emotions. Like many people from her homeland, she is very private and will not talk about her childhood, even though sometimes her eyes seem haunted. But dispite this she is still friendly with an easy smile. Hobbies: She trains her martial arts as much as humanly possible, to the point of exhaustion. She has a strategic mind and has a knack for studying the arts of warfare, even though she herself perfers peace. Pet: A great golden cat named Pen Other: "Cala" has seen many horrors in her life, and was taken in as a foundling child. She is often plagued by nightmares and will go for weeks without sleeping and she has a fear of small tight spaces. ~*~ She sat on the window sill, chin to knees, forehead resting against the cool glass pain. And she looked up at the stars through woody eyes. She could find the old patterns, the old constellations, the pathes and the mapways through the stars. She remembered them, all of them. How could one forget? People thought stars looked the same everywhere, but oh how wrong they were. They never knew the secrets that were hidden. Finding the pattern of the wheel, she traced it against the glass with one finger. The last time she saw that was several years ago... I don't want to go... It is a great honor! Such a great one and unexpected. What can I do there, what can I do there, that I cannot learn here among the sheep and the windswept rock? But you never know what this may hold for you or why... I will do it for you and I will do it for Aido because you have been so good to me. I owe you so much...But my training....? There will be someone there for that... She yawned suddenly and cut the threads of memory. There were many things in her life that she did not understand, there were many paths she had walked down...and so far this place just seemed like another stop along the way. |
| Name: It's a secret. Call him Butterfly. Age: 16 Nationality: Thanian Year: Thirder Appearance: Butterfly is a wiry, androgynous little guy, easily mistaken for a boyish girl in poor light or at a quick glance. He cuts his matt black hair himself, and doesn't do it very well, so it averages out at just below shoulder length but individual strands can be as long or as short as they like. It doesn't bother him when it falls in his face, so his big green-black eyes normally watch the world through a thin curtain. There are generally bruises somewhere on his body, and there are always scars on his back and right arm (from whippings and breaking, respectively), so he keeps his sleeves long even in summer to conceal them. Personality: In a word: subversive. Which is not a survival trait in Thana; Butterfly was saved from almost certain imprisonment, torture, death and general nastiness by the summons from Oracle. He doesn't really have any sense of self-preservation. He'd rather find things out than be safe. Butterfly is not fooled by illusions or pretences - he sees to the heart of things, usually seeing them from a perspective nobody's thought of before. He delights greatly in challenging beliefs and killing holy cows, and believes firmly that all the evils of the world come from ignorance. Being Thanian he's seen a few of them first-hand, and the memories of his homeland fuel the little furnace of venomous anger that keeps him running. He is determined that one day he personally will destroy the corrupt order and restore Thana to grace. Hobbies: Butterfly loves to explore and travel and listen to stories. He also adores maps, and will spend hours drawing beautifully detailed maps of the places he's been. He's a pretty good artist though he rarely ventures beyond cartography. Pets / other: There are a pair of nightingales in a big cage in Butterfly's room. He sets all of their chicks free. He also hasn't been home to Thana since he first came to Oracle, three years ago. ***** "Write to us," his mother had slipped in his ear as he'd boarded the boat. "Please write to me." And he had, and she'd written back, sending the news from home - or the news that she was allowed to send out of the country. Every time he saw a letter from home Butterfly wasn't sure whether he wanted to tear it open and read it right away, or burn it without reading a word. It could be Jaq Tyjuri is dead, but it could equally be Your sister is in prison or Your father is dead or Both or even Something worse. There'd always be a few seconds of crazy, violent heart-pounding terror when he picked up a letter from Thana, trying to deduce from his mother's blocky handwriting what the news was; but she couldn't be so easily read and anyway he always opened it and it was never anything terrible or amazing. But he could never quite quell the original scream of panic. The latest cause for alarm was lying on his desk, read and reread thoroughly to extract every last shred of meaning from its guarded, careful words. As usual nothing beyond worry at the gradual decline of his father's business, and his sister's increasing tendency to behave like him. Butterfly sighed, and added a postscript to his latest letter. Sister - either stop it, or leave the country. If you get in trouble you will ruin it for all of us. Our mother has enough to worry about with only one child heading for prison and an unmarked grave. Butterfly sealed his letter, addressed it and left it for collection the next morning - the first day of classes. With an effort, he tore his thoughts from the troubles in his far-away home, and refocused them on the imminent beginning of term. He found that he was rather looking forward to it. |
| Hey guys, it's going great! keep it up! Seraph bounded down the stairs of the girls dormitory, through the commonroom and out the door, ignoring the still wet-behind-the-ears prefect who uncertainly yelled "No running?" after her as she exited the building. she approached the north wall gate and, going to the small ladder beide it, quickly pulled herself up to the top of the wall. Glancing to her left, she smiled at Kai Galen, the steward, who was watching the road for arriving students. She walked over and propped her elbows on the tan brick, mirroring the young man's position. "Hi Kai." she said with a smile. "hey there Ser." He replied with a grin, finnally looking away from the road and down at his young friend. "You look nice." Seraph nodded. "thanks." she looked at Kai, who was dressed in one of his favorite outfits from his home in Arnet, A pair of long, khakis that were cut off mid shin, and a blindingly bright tunic of every imaginable shade of green and blue, that made his eyes appear bright lime green. "you look bright." she replied, squinting at the shirt and the way the colors swirled together. "thanks." he replied with a grin. "hey, I've got a new joke for you, this is bound to make you laugh." Seraph sighed. "If you insist." "Alright," Kai went on eagerly. "what do you do when your sock gets a hole in Phantonac?" "I don't know, what?" Seraph replied dully. "Dorne it!" kai waited for a second waiting for Seraph to laugh. She didn't. "Do you get it? Phantonac is the capital of-" "Dorne, yes I get it." Seraph broke in. "I just didn't find it that funny." Kai gave an exasperated snort. "I give up. I'm never telling you another joke again." At this Seraphine grinned amusedly. "You say that every time Kai. Anyway, how many students are due in today?" "New ones? I'm guessing about five. We're expecting ten this year, but some live farther away than others. Most likely the rest will show up in a day or two." Seraphine's brow wrinkled in thought. "that'll bring the total of students up to thirty two. Thats more than we've had in a century." Kai nodded. "most the time the number was pretty steady, tween fifteen and twenty one or so. Might not seem like much, but theres only so many youngsters with great destinies out there." Seraphine frowned. "When did the numbers start going up?" she asked. "Oh, about a year or so before you came. we had classes of sixes and sevens and eights start comin in. now Kai looked thoughtful. "never a ten before though." They sat quiet for a while, just thinking and watching the road. But suddenly Seraph was broken out of her reverie by the sight of a small black dot coming down the road. "Kai!" she gasped. "Look! A coach is coming!" |
| tap, tap, tap... Were her footsteps always this loud? Well the hallway was empty. Right, newer students were coming today. "Cala." She stopped, turned and bowed respectfully to Benjiro. "Have you given any more thought to my offer? I know you are still learning yourself, but you are very far along and I could use your assistance. I will help you as one of your choice blocks." "If you need me, I am yours to command." "You know I do not want your assistance that way Cala." The girl smiled. "Let me rephrase. It would be an honor. I have so much respect for you, how could I refuse?" "Good," the teacher grunted. "Now, do you not have to see the new 'uns?" "Yes." She watched the carriage door open and a new student got out. The child looked scared, Cala thought, empethetically. She hoped that the young one would settle in soon and find some comfort here. And if the kid is scared now, just wait until classes start. A wind blew in from the east. It was cold and raised bumps on Cala's arms. Tucking a strand of hair, dark as a raven's wing behind her ear, she frowned. It was the wrong time of year for that kind of wind...and yet maybe it was only a fluke of the season. (withywindle, If you're wondering why I changed it, it's just because the student's come from all over the world, and they wouldn't arrive together in the same carraige. Plus, i'm hoping some of the mew writers will use new students for characters) |
| There were people arriving. New students. Butterfly leaned precariously out of his window to look down at the drive, seeing the first carriage arrive. The sight of the cheap hired conveyance brought back memories of this time two years ago, when he'd been a nervous, angry fourteen-year-old who'd just been informed that he had a great destiny ahead of him. At the time he hadn't wondered about it; he'd simply wondered whether they made the ride extra bumpy when they saw your arm was in a sling. But once the irritating broken-bones-complaining pain had gone away he'd started to think about it, and now the beginning of the year made him wonder again. "So this year's the biggest class for a long time," he said out loud, speaking to the nightingales. "In ten years the world's going to need a lot of great people?" The nightingales didn't reply. They never did. Either they didn't want to say what they thought, or they really weren't as clever as they liked to pretend. Butterfly gave up trying to talk to them, and went downstairs to meet the new kids. "Hi, Cala." The girl started, having not heard his approach. "Hello." She frowned, and rubbed her arms. "Winter's coming early. It'll be cold this year." Butterfly nodded as another arm of cold air flailed around the hall. "My sister would say it smells of bad luck." "Smells of bad luck?" "She claims she can smell luck, good or bad. Apparently bad luck is a little like damp soil." "Damp soil. Right." "Stupid, of course. Quite clearly it smells of lemons." Butterfly turned a smile on the new student, standing nervous and alone by the door. "Hi, I'm called Butterfly. Nice to see someone else with a great destiny." |
| Name: Qannik Kamerak Nicknames: N/A Age: 13 (almost 14) Birthday: October 13 Nationality: Iyruk Year: Firster Appearance: The first thing one notices about Qannik are her large, black eyes. Her face rarely has much expression, but her eyes communicate everything. Qannik's straight, black hair falls in length halfway down her back. She's 4' 11" tall and 105 lbs, so small and dainty. She wears a size 5 shoe. Personality: Qannik prefers to relax alone or with a few close friends. She appears calm and self-contained to other people and likes to think about things before she speaks or acts. In large groups or under pressure, Qannik will freeze up, and she doesn't like feeling rushed. She avoids crowds whenever possible, can often drift off in thought, even in the middle of a conversation, never volunteers any comment or information, and rarely shows much facial expression or reaction. You know the phrase "still waters run deep?" That suits Qannik to a 'T.' Hobbies: skiing, fishing, hunting, meditation, reading, drawing Pet: None Other: Qannik is the apprentice to the wisewoman of her tribe. Her 'magic' will gradually appear over time as she learns how to peer into the future The little girl stared up at Butterfly with big, liquid black eyes. Her hair hung straight down her back like a thick curtain, bound only by single, white ribbon, that fluttered like a tiny flag in the breeze. She seemed tiny, this girl, as fragile as a china doll. She had two bright spots of color on an otherwise pale face: a tiny hint of red on each of her cheeks. She held both hands clasped in front of her, holding a little stuffed dog to her chest. The dress she wore was shapeless, a plain, tan color, fringed with what looked to be beads. The dress was worn and too long, but the bottoms of her trousers showed below the hem and both garments were almost shockingly clean and pressed. Her shoes were as shapeless as the dress, but with a fringe of grey-white fur around the ankles, and a little more beading than the rest. "Oh!" said someone else, stepping around the little girl, "Hi! Please excuse my sister. She is timid. I am called Arrluk." He bowed. "And this is Qannik." Arrluk was a taller, squarer version of his little sister. He spoke gently, but firmly, with a voice which was ageless. His strong features were young, but his eyes belied great wisdom. The two siblings wore similar clothing. Arrluk's jerkin, for it certainly couldn't also be called a dress, fell to mid-thigh and was held by a thick, glossy black belt around his middle, tied in a knot. He had the sleeves rolled up to about the elbow, revealing curling patterns of tatoos along his forearms and disappearing out of sight. His jerkin was more heavily decorated than Qannik's and he wore a necklace of giant teeth around his neck. More beads and teeth dangled from the fringe of his jerkin. His boots were shaped around his calves and fastened with string just below the fur ruff about where his knees would be. He smiled easily at Butterfly, showing even, white teeth. Then he looked down at the girl by his side and said, "Qannik, kiikkaa: 'Uvlaalluataq.' Kisipkun itpich? Niuraq!" She looked up at her brother, then back to Butterfly, bobbed a quick bow and said, " Good morning. How do you do?" Arrluk smiled at her and she smiled in return. Then he picked up the bags, asking, "My sister is new to school. Will you show me the way?" Cala stepped up to Butterfly's side. "I can do that, Arrluk. My name is Cala." She leaned down a little to look the little girl in the eyes. "What a pretty name you have. What does it mean?" Qannik stepped back and behind her brother, staring at Cala with her big, solemn eyes wide in fright. "Please, show me," Arrluk said in his heavy accent. "It has been a long journey." He smiled his smile again, easing the sudden tension. "We need to rest now, please." "Sure," replied Cala, eyeing the two warily. "This way, then." "Thank-you," Arrluk said gratefully. He bowed his farewell to Butterfly, little Qannik his mirror image, and then both strode off behind Cala. |
| Name: Josphine Nickname: Jo, that's all she ever goes by. Age: 15 Birthday: June 9th Nationality: Born and raised in Dorne Year: Firster Appearance: Jo is tall for her age at about 5'7" mostly due to her long legs. Her long jet black extends to about the middle of her back and currently has a few blue streaks (although she changes colors frequently). A few strands constantly fall in front of her piercing green eyes. She usually dresses the opposite of however she supposed to dress and has been known to wear everything from mini-skirts and high-heeled boots to baggy pants and ballet flats. Personality: Jo is, in short, a trouble maker. She loves to do exactly the opposite of what she's supposed to do and can be very stubborn. She very outgoing, talkitive, and adventurous. She also enjoys a good challenge. Hobbies: getting in trouble; exploring; riding her horse; doing the unthinkable. Pets: A jet black stallion named Thunder and a great dane puppy named King. King has traveled with her. Thunder is being sent and is a few days behind her. Other: Jo has absolutely no want to be at the school and was forced here against her will. She plans to cause as much problems as she possibly can. !~*~*~!~*~*~!~*~*~! Jo's carriage rode into the small courtyard of the school. She looked out the window and saw another carriage leaving. "Hmm...Someone else new," she thought out loud to herself. The carriage came to a halt directly in front of the school. Jo looked out the window to see another student standing outside waiting for her. In the distance, an older student was leading away a young girl and an older boy. The student outside opened the carriage door for her and she stepped out. Before the student looked like a tomboy, but now she realized it was a boy maybe a little older than her although she was about his height. The boy seemed shocked and Jo decided it was probably because of the fact she was coming to her first day of school at the academie in a short mini-skirt and tall boots, just the reaction she was going for. |
| Name:Adam Age:15 Birthday: February 15 Country of origin:Andiria, a small monestary Year: firster Appearance: Adam is an average height of 5'7" and has sandy blonde hair that is often in his eyes. He has deep blue eyes and a generous mouth, he has been considered a 'pretty boy' Personality: Adam is like an anchor in a storm, he's steady. His parents sent him to the monestary when they couldn't afford to raise them theirselves. He is always calm and very little affects him. He is a master at the martial arts, and always manages to keep a cool head. Hobbies:he used to sing, but doesn't do it often in public anymore, he's shy. He likes to paint and loves to meditate for hours on the stretch of cliffline that his monestary sits on. Pets:a wild crow that tags along behind him, recently he has been trained to carry messages for Adam. Other: Adam is very shy and reserved, he has never had a relationship of any kind with the opposite sex. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Adam came in from his martial arts practice slightly covered in sweat and headed for the showers, usually solely lonely at this time of day. "Adam," brother Micheal touched Adam's shoulder to get his attention. The old monk had been hidden in the shadow of the doorway. "Father Mitchell needs to speak to you, he said that it was important." "You'll go immediately of course, this is a very prestigious honor." Father Mitchell intoned, his face held other meanings than his words did though. His face showed how disappointed he was to be losing Adam, not many young men came to the small monestary. Adam, listened more to the words though and bowed his body in half in accord with Father Mitchell. "I shall begin packing immediately, and perhaps I could flag down the fishing vessel on its way past the island." |
| Seraph watched as the first carraige drove in and the black haired boy and girl emerged. Cala, who was a year ahead of her, and Butterfly, who was in her year, had come out to greet the new students. But Seraph, for some reason, had hesitated. "why don't you go down and say hello?" Kai whispered softly at her elbow. "I'm nervous." she replied bluntly. She looked up into his soft green eyes. "Kai, I want friends.People my own age." Kai felt his heart skip a beat as a look of frightening intensity flitted across Seraphine's face. The child could be downright scary sometimes. She continued ardently. "I've been the youngest for so long, now finally kids my own age are coming! The firsters are going to be thirteen or fourteen, and I'm turning fourteen in a week. but even so, i'm still going to be out of place, arent I." Kai nodded. "you'll always be a bit out of place, Angel girl, and not just because you came a few years early. You're just...intimidating, to put it mildly. Seraphine laughed, to his suprise. "me, intimidating? I'm plain and puny. how am I intimidating?" Kai looked at her critically. "well, you're not plain, for one. those eyes of your are gorgeous, but they've got this fierce look to them, like a hawk." she laughed again, then pointed. "look, another carraige." "why don't you go down and say hello?" Kai asked gently. Seraph gripped the top of the wall, her knuckles white. "what if whoever is in there doesn't like me?" "what if you don't like them?" kai put in blandly. "What if the stars fall and the seers don't see and Oracle mountain falls to the ground? Don't worry so much, Serrakin." Seraph smiled at the groundskeeper's pet name for her. "alright. I'll try it." she looked up at him and smiled. "Even if I don't make any friends this year, I still have you Kai." The young man sniffed, trying to hide the fact that he was pleased. He ruffled her hair. "get out of here." She gave him a quick hug and scrambled down the ladder. She came into the front drive just as a girl emerged from the carraige wearing the most outlandish clothing that Seraph had ever seen. The skirt barely had enough cloth to be called a handkerchief, and seraph felt herself embarrassed for the girl, though she seemed completely at ease."she'll be waring the uniform soon enough." seraph thought to herself, brushing her hand along her grey slacks. suddenly, from inside the carraige their came a sharp bark. The girl turned her head, black and blue locks swishing, and called into the black interior. "Come on king, we're here!" Out of the carraige jumped a very large puppy. Seraphine let out a little "ooh!" of pleasure, and both the girl and Butterfly looked over. "Hi seraph!" butterfly said politely. "come to greet our new student?" Seraph nodded and smiled at him before turning her eyes to the new student, who was standing there silently, her hand on her dog's head. Their eyes met, and held. Seraph's heart throbbed a little bit when she saw the faint flicker of fear in the girls eyes, but when they held, and even grw challenging, she smiled gladly. She took a deep breath, and summoning her courage, said "My Name is Serafine Benami. May I pet your Puppy?" |
| She led the two arrivals up winding stone staircases and through the wide hallways. Pointing out important rooms, tried to make the little girl more comfortable. "You know, it's a little intimidating when you first come here. I know I was freaked out a bit, but once you get your bearings you'll be fine. And don't hesistate to ask for help, we won't bite ya." Qannik didn't respond, but stayed close to her brother, looking around at everything wide-eyed. Cala furrowed her brow. She hoped the girl would get along alright. Once everyone gets settled in, they seem to do okay. Well...as okay as they can be she thought to herself with a wry smile. "Now this is the northeast corner, the girls dormatory." She opened the door to an empty room and let Qannik and Arrluk enter. "Each person gets their own room, which is kind of nice. This will be yours. It's nice and private and has a good view. If you need anything at all, anything, I'll be hanging around and it would be an honor to help you. Seriously. As for you," she turned to Arrluk and chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I'm sure you would like to rest from your trip but I'm not quite sure where to put you. I wish I could keep you near your sister but unfortunetly that's against the rules. I suppose I could put you in the boys corner for now." |
| Butterfly grinned at the effort Seraph was making, and turned away from the ritual of puppy-admiration and the bizarre new girl. "Desperate attention seeker," he muttered to himself, wandering back into the temple. He didn't much like this blank waiting period before the term began. It wasn't much fun, hanging around the courtyard waiting for new arrivals, but he couldn't make himself not drift around there like a lost soul. Seraph and the new girl, followed by a bounding streak of puppy-coloured fur, strolled past him on their way upstairs. Minutes went past. Then some more minutes. Surely something had to happen eventually. Butterfly, bored, watched a moth flap pointlessly against a window until its futile struggling got too pathetic to merely observe. Then he caught it gently and trotted outside to release the tiny insect into the chilly breeze. "Sorry," he said to the moth. "You'll die of cold now." "Um... hello?" Butterfly turned, startled, having not heard a carriage pull up; it looked as though the boy hadn't even hired one, standing there with a bag on his back and a random crow shuffling about on the drive behind him. "Hi." Pause. Averted gaze. "I'm Butterfly," he tried. "Adam," the new boy introduced himself. "Did you walk here?" "Yes." Pause. "There weren't any coaches for hire." "Sure. Come with me, I'll show you around." Adam obediently followed Butterfly, looking around curiously at the school buildings. Butterfly glanced quickly at the list of room allocations tacked to the noticeboard at the bottom of the stairs in the boys' tower. "Hey, you're on the top floor with me. Want a hand with your bag?" "Um... no thanks." Butterfly grinned. "If there's anything you want, you better ask me now because this is about as nice as I ever get." "Actually... this school is just for..." Adam struggled to find the words, "...people who've been seen by Oracles, right?" "Apparently." "So, do we have any... do they expect anything of us?" Butterfly shrugged. "I don't think so. I hope not." |
Name: Arrluk Kamerak Nicknames: N/A Age: 14 Birthday: April 28 Nationality: Iyruk Year: Firster Appearance: Arrluk is a taller, squarer version of his little sister. He speaks gently, but firmly and, like Quannik, everything he feels is reflected in his eyes. Arrluk is 5 ft 7ish, about 140 lbs, and currently in the middle of a growth spurt. Luckily for Arrluk, his voice changed over the summer, so most of the squeaks are gone. Personality: Arrluk likes to be in the thick of things. His easy smile and easy-going attitude made him a popular boy at home, but Arrluk has had many responsibilities thrust on him at a very young age, so his aura is much more mature than his appearance. Still, he has a thirst for adventure and a deep affection for his sister. Hobbies: skiing, hunting, trapping, mushing, wrestling, group activities "That is okay, Cala," Arrluk said. "I will stay a few minutes and can find the way out." At this, little Qannik looked up at her brother nervously, again trying to slide behind him and away from the curious Cala. "A-are you sure?" Arrluk smiled a sad smile and nodded. "I am not staying. Only Qannik was invited to school here." He set the bags down and put an arm around his sister. "We just need a few minutes to say good-bye." "Oh. Okay, if you're sure. Just grab anyone if you get lost. Nice to meet you, then." As the door closed behind the strange girl, Qannik threw herself in her brother's arms, sobbing. "Piyumieaitchufa! Nakka aullaqtuq! Quyalixafniafatuq, Arrluk!" Arrluk knelt and gathered the sobbing Qannik in his arms. She buried her head into his shoulder, her whole body shaking as she cried. Arrluk held her for several long minutes, until his own eyes ached with the tears he held back. Then he set her away from him and tilted her face so that they could look in each other's eyes. "Speak the common language now, Qannik, yes? Kafiqsiviich?" She wiped her eyes on a sleeve. "Ii, Arrluk. Yes, I understand." "This is good luck for you, you must try hard and do well. Promise?" She tried to smile back, but only began crying once more. Qannik murmered, "Uvafa akiqsruun." Turning, she threw herself onto the bed and buried her head in her arms. Arrluk bit his lip and quietly stepped from the room. He leaned against the wall outside and stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes. "Goodbyes are tough, aren't they?" Arrluk jumped. Standing only a few feet away stood a short, bald man, with very dark eyes that almost seemed to protrude from a pale face. He wore grey slacks and a white woolen shirt and had a sword fastened to his waist. He regarded Arrluk politely, his hands buried in his pockets. "Ah, yes," Arrluk said slowly, trying to remember the word for 'sir.' "Come, why don't we go for a bit of a walk?" The man turned and strode off down the hall without waiting to see if Arrluk followed. But Arrluk's curiousity was aroused now and he easily caught up with the strange, bald-headed man. They passed others in the hallway, but said nothing other than the odd greeting or two until they were out on the grounds. Reaching a rough, wooden fence, the strange man stopped to lean on it, looking over at the Iyruk nomad who had accompanied his sister to school. "I am Jomei Benjiro. I am the armsmaster here. Headmaster Woodson has instructed me to invite you to stay on, here, at the school, with your sister." Arrluk's jaw dropped. "No! No, I cannot stay!" He turned away, shaking, his hands curled into fists. "I can't," he repeated, quieter. "The Mog-ur told me that if I stay I will doom Qannik's destiny." Jomei snorted. "Aw, pish! Nonsense, boy! Our oracles are the best in the business, as it were. If they say your destiny is tied in with your sister, then so be it! Stay you must - no ifs, ands, or buts." Shaking, Arrluk spun around, tears wet on his cheeks as he addressed the older man. "Mog-ur told me, told me that you would tempt me! Why must you torment me so?" The armsmaster's face relaxed slightly in sympathy. "Listen to your heart, Arrluk. What does your own destiny tell you?" "I should never have come," he answered, wiping at his tears. "Chin up, lad! Face the future, not the past. You have a destiny, too, and now you must choose." "How can I decide? My love for her will ruin everything! The Mog-ur said and thus it will be." "The spirits have set you on this path, Arrluk. Who are you to tell them it's the wrong one?" Arrluk scowled at the little man. "A hunter chooses his prey, not the prey the hunter." "Indeed," Jomei agreed. "And what will you hunt?" "I have thought of little else, this long journey. I had hoped I would not have to make this choice, but I already know what it would be." He sighed, looking past the armsmaster, to the land beyond the school grounds, and the sea beyond those. "My sister needs me, it has always been thus. I stay." |
| Name: Zenia Age: 16 Birthday: February 29th (born on a leap year) Nationality: She and her family are wanderers, a biut like gypsies, they don't know where they originate. They are all extremely accomplished fighters and somewhats become mercenaries when they need the money. Equally they have other skills and can change their trade to what is needed. Mostly distrusted and apart from their work they keep to themselves. Year: This is her first year, she has only just been called but because of her cleverness it has been decided that she would be put in the thirder's year - although she'll need to work hard to keep up. She is very proud and refuswed to be put into the first year. Appearance: She is tall and striking with olive skin and long black hair. Her eyes are dark and commanding with an eminating pride that makes her very cold and aloof to look at.She normally (i.e. outside of school) wears black leather laced boots and a short leather skirt which allows for lots of movement. She wears a piece of silver cloth woven tightly around her breasts and a tatto across her stomach. Zenia has several ear piercings and a heavy cloak which she almost always wears. She looks a lot older than she is and always carries a weapon even though it is not allowed in the academy. Personality: She is very proud and is afraid to let people get to her because she hates goodbyes. In the past anyone who's been close to her was left behind when her family moved. Underneath all her layers she longs to be loved but won't let anyone get close to her. Very determined and competitive. Hobbies: Combat of any sort, riding, climbing any sporting or physical activity except team sports - she has learnt never to trust others. Pets: A magical creature called a Felin. It can change it's from to any creature of the cat family and talks in the human tongue. Most people don't believe in the existance of a Felin and usually Zenia pretends she is just a normal cat (she usually takes the form of a black and white cat.) It is considered a great honour to be chosen by a Felin and Zenia is very protective of her. Her name is Sassy. Other: When she was summoned she desperately didn't want to go. She fought tooth and claw to stay and even tried to run away from her family. In the end it was Sassy that made her go. The Felin had asked (politely for once) Zenia to consider the danger she must be in to have been called so late and this was the ultimate thing that made her go. She wouldn't out her family in danger. Even so she resents being sent and refused to be placed in the firsters. * * * She could just see the academy now, it's great gates rearing up like a gaping mouth. Suddenly a wave of fear washed ovr Zenia and she pulled on the reins of her great stamping mare. She and her horse, Benio, had travelled a huge distance over the last two days and all for this? Once again she asked herself what on earth she was doing here. Benio was pawing at the ground impatiently, anxious to finish this long journey. Sighing Zenia kicked the horse back into a gallop and almost flew across the rough terrain down to the gates. "Go easy, christ, it's not going to dissapear you know!" came a disgruntled voice from one of her saddlebags. "I wish it would," Zenia replied glumly, "I still can't believ I'm here Sassy." "Oh well," replied the Felin and fell quiet as Zenia slowed her horse to a canter as she came through the gates. The courtyard already had a carriage in it, but apart from that it was empty. Relief washed over Zenia, she had been afraid there would be loads of people there to watch her arrive - there to judge her before she had even dismounted from her steaming horse. Skillfully she slowed the horse to a stop and leapt don from the saddle lithely, loosening the straps of the left saddlebag and letting Sassy jump down to the cobbled ground. "Bit posh isn't it?" she commented to the Felin who mewed softly. Carefully she unclipped both saddlebags and threw them over her shoulder, looking around for someone to whom she give Benio. A servant came hurrying forward to take the horse and Zenia thanked him in her thick flowing language. "Scushio," the words sounded odd here and she realised her mistake, "thank-you," she corrected, "where should I go?" The servant pointed to the large front doors which were standing wide open. Suddenly Zenia's heart flipped. A girl was coming out and this one was not a servant. She was wearing the uniform of the academy and this made Zenia glance down at her own attire. She must look extremely strange in her wanderers garb. She tried to tell herself she didn't care what these poeple thought of her, and automatically put on a cold aloof face, but deep down she wanted these people to like her, although she knew that she herself would be the thing that made it most difficult for them to do so. |
| Seraph led Jo up a staircase to where her room was located. King followed close behind stopping every once in a while to stop and smell this new and strange place. Seraph gave Jo her handbook and explained some of the things to her. Jo flipped through the pages wondering if she could really stand living here. At least Seraph seemed nice. She was a little younger than Jo but that didn't matter. Seraph stopped in front of one of the rooms. "Well, this is it. I'll let you unpack and get settled. See you later." Then she was gone. Jo looked around her new home for the next 4 years. Her suitcases had been brought up to her room and were now sitting next to the bed which was centered along the back wall. King came up from behind and quickly ran to jump on the bed. "No, King. That's my bed. I'll set yours up shortly," Jo said firmly. The dog seemed dispointed but obeyed and settled down in one of the corners of the room under a window. Jo then threw herself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She thought back to the dreaded letter arriving which was responsible for her having to come to this stupid place. Her mother and father hadn't told her what it was and tricked her into thinking that she was going to live in the city with her aunt. When the coach finally arrived, they told her what was actually going on. Jo had heard of the school a only few times, but it was enough to know she wasn't going to like it. She had never worried about it though because the school was only for the gifted and she was just a common troublemaker. She had been wrong. Jo had done everything she possibly could to get out of coming in the few short minutes she had, but nothing had worked. And here she was, staring up at the ceiling in her new room in a tower of the acedemie. Well, she couldn't go home now, but that didn't mean she had to like being here and that didn't mean she had to be good. Maybe if she tried hard enough she could be kicked out and sent home. Hopefully. Before she was able to spread haotic at the academie though, she would have to at least unpack. |
| Adam followed after this Butterfly, a strange name for a strange person. Adam walked with purpose and tried to keep his shaking knees from being noticed, he wondered desperatley if he could keep his secret in this new place. "Did you say that you and I were to be sharing a room?" Adam asked making his tone firmer than what his heart wanted it to be. "No, I said that we would be on the same floor together. Everyone has their own room here at the Academy. This is it by the way, your room. Showers are downstairs, good luck." Butterfly walked away and Adam opened the door and walked inside. The door had a lock on it, for which he was deeply grateful. The secret might not be so hard to keep here after all Adam mused as he began unpacking his things. |
| Seraphine left Jo's room, closing the door behind her. Her forehead furrowed as she thought about the new girl. She seemed to be a bit sullen, and that bothered Seraph. She hoped there wouldn't be any problems. When things went wrong at Oracle academy, The Oracle got upset. Seraphine had never seen the Oracle upset, but she had heard rumors, vague and nervous, about students who made problems for the world and its future. But, of course, they were just rumors. Seraph started down the stairs to the second floor and down was about to descend the second flight when she heard the sound of soft sobs. Seraph looked down the hall towards the room it was coming from, and headed towards the noise. The door was open a crack. Putting away her fear of being rejected, Seraph Knocked soflty before sliding in, ready to leave if she was yelled at. To her suprise, the weeper was a girl as small as she, maybe smaller. Her black hair was much longer than Seraph's, and her eyes many shades darker. They looked at Seraph in startlement and fear as giant tears rolled from them down pale cheeks. "hello." said Seraph softly. "you're crying." The girl simply buried her face in her tiny hands and sobbed. Seraph walked over to her side and gingerly sat down. The girl looked up in suprise and started, but seraph merely smiled and muttered a calming "shh, you're alright." She reached out slowly with her thin hands and brushed the hair away from the girl's red rimmed eyes, tucking it behind her ears, then wiped away the tears from eah cheek with the back of her hand. The girl simply held still, staring wide eyed. Seraph reached out an arm and wrapped it around her, and began to sing a little yeshaian song, a plea for winter to end and spring begin. She felt the girl give a big shuddering sigh and relax slightly. She kept up the song, moving through the verses one by one, until she noticed that the girl had fallen asleep against her bony sholder. Seraphine gently laid the girl back on the bed, tugging the covers out from under her and tucking them around the small body. She looked down at the sad, tired face and felt overwhelmed by the intense protective feeling that came over her. She was used to her feelings coming fast and strong, but it scared her. She whispered a soft prayer of protection over the girl, then said quietly as she turned to leave, "I don't even know your name, but sleep well, Ehan'y,My friend." with that she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her and heading out of the dorm. she emerged into the afternoon sun to see a girl standing beside Madea, the Hostler. Madea pointed at her, and the girl turned to look at Seraphine. Her clothes, which were strange to Seraph, were the only thing that kept Seraph from taking her to be a Yeshaian. Her dark hair and eyes, the olive skin, the proud, regal look all put her in mind of the countless young women of her tribe. She smiled and moved forward to greet the new girl. |
| She gave the door three solid raps and leaned against the door frame. The doorknob jiggled and turned, the door opening to reveal a younger girl, whose dark hair was streaked with the color of the sky. Cala smiled and introduced herself. "I'm Cala. We're on this same hall, so I thought I'd stop by to say hallo." "I'm Jo, well Josphine," she grimaced, "but just call me Jo. And we'll just see how long we'll be hallmates!" Cala gave her a puzzled smile and raised a brow."Oh really?" Jo seemed friendly and determined. "I don't want to be here," she said, turning back into her room, and continuing to unpack. "I really don't. And I am going to let everybody at this school know it!" Cala laughed, lightly and lyrically. "Well, good luck with that. This place might surprise you though. I didn't want to come here at first either." "You didn't?" "Nah," she shook her head, "but it meant a lot to my family. I came for them. Not for me. And I stay for them." "Well, I certainly didn't come for anyone," Jo responded shutting a dresser drawer with a bang, startling the puppy asleep on her bed. Pen won't like that, Cala thought to herself. But Pen is a bit of a coward... "And we'll see how long they want me to stay." Cala grinned again. "Well I will leave you and your plans alone to finish settling in. If you need anything, I'm just down the hall a couple of rooms. Don't worry about disturbing me, I really don't mind. The prefects are on the main floor if you need anything either." She shut the door softley and made her way down to the main common room. Kicking off her shoes, she curled up in a large, comfortable chair and frowed at a piece of paper in front of her. As an upper, she had had more freedom when designing her schedule than most of the lower years, but if she was going to be helping Benjiro then she would have to change a few things. Benjiro had sent her her schedule along with his own, so she could pick and choose where she would assist. She heard voices on the stairs as more new people arrived. More young ones whose destinies are threatened Cala thought, lips twisting wryly. They say we are destined, those seers, those oracles. And we are here for destiny...but what about me? I who do not believe in a great puppet master, pulling our strings and making us dance like marionettes. Not from what I have seen, what I have known, can I believe that. But that is me, the contradiction as Benjiro says. |
| Lurking inside the temple, the cool dimness where he loved to be, Butterfly wondered what was wrong with him that he couldn't take his eyes of the newest arrival. He'd seen such miniscule costumes before, of course - even Jaq Tyjuri hadn't dared mess with Thana's Carnival - but somehow she managed to make the short skirt and almost non-existent top look entirely decent. Probably the pride in her bearing; she wore her distance like a suit of armour. As the striking new girl turned to follow Seraph up to the dormitory-towers, Butterfly caught sight of a dark blur of tattoo across her stomach and was suddenly desperately curious to see what it depicted. He slipped out of the temple to intercept the girls. "Hey, Seraph, who's the new one?" The girl's attention snapped over to him. Butterfly could feel the quick assessment of someone not that used to friendly approaches - the kind of glance you habitually felt on the streets of Chand. "Zenia," Seraph introduced them. "This is Butterfly." "Hello." "Hi." Butterfly risked a glance downwards, but was defeated; the tattoo was covered by Zenia's crossed arms. The girl raised a haughty eyebrow. "My face," she said coolly, "is up here." "I had noticed," he shot back, and shrugged. "Tattoos aren't that common where I come from." "Whereas acting as though people are exhibits evidently is." Zenia spun on her heel and marched off. Seraph gave Butterfly a sympathetic look before trotting off after her, leaving him confused and wondering what he'd done wrong. Wandering back to the temple, sunk in thought, he suddenly realised what it was; he'd refused to be intimidated by her aloofness and pride. And then he began to wonder why she was scared. |
The first hint of trouble at home came in a blur of speed. Break-up that spring had been particularly unpredictable, with beautiful summer-like days followed by winter-like blizzards, then rainy and overcast, but mostly cold. On the summer-like days, the snow and ice would melt, leaving the earth submerged in a mire of dirty slush. Good weather for the boot-makers, of course, but awful for everyone else, for when the weather turned cold again, that slush turned to ice. The caribou and moose were likewise finding it difficult. The hunters rarely had to do much more than find a beast, trapped in ice where it had lain down in the night and frozen to the ground, or one that had cut its feet on the sharp ice trying to paw a path clear to feed. So, though the fare was tough and stringy from the long winter, the tribe did well in its need for fresh meat. The days also grew longer, which did a lot for morale. Unfortunately, on that particular day, the sky had darkened at around mid-morning and it was starting to snow by the time the hunting party was able to return. They hadn't hitched up the dogs because there hadn't been enough firm snow to make that worth-while, so when Qannik came running up, she first had to get by Ataniq, the lead dog, and the rest of the pack. All Arrluk and the hunters knew was that, one moment, all the dogs were tamely trotting by their sides, and the next, had bounded ahead, over a hill, howling their hunting cry. The dogs were all some mix of huskie/malemute, the local dog imported so long ago that they were now looked upon as indigenous, and wolf. The hunters had taken out only the best-behaved of the dogs as pack animals. Kenai and Kobuk were Arrluk's dogs, both only a quarter wolf, dumb as a box of rocks, but steady with either pack or sled. They were also big animals, between 130-150 pounds each, so when Arrluk, running up the hill, saw the two in the middle of the pack, looking to be savaging something, he was justifiably worried. "Nutqabin!" Arrluk shouted, racing down the hill, "Qilamik, ikayuqtiksramik qilamik!" He held his bow firmly, like a staff, ready to beat aside the dogs if he needed to. The other hunters were close behind. But the haste turned out to be unwarranted, for as soon as the hunters darted down the hill, the dogs backed away. Ataniq sat to one side, tongue lolling happily. Kenai and Kobuk were the last to back away, both yipping excitedly and wagging their tails. From the middle of the dog-pile, Qannik emerged, hair and clothes mussed and dirty, her eyes red, her face red from excessive tongue-washing, but otherwise unhurt. She threw herself into Arrluk's arms shouting that she was being sent away. From there, the whole day had rapidly turned into something out of a nightmare. The village elders were excited about the letter, but Qannik was terrified. She was Arrluk's only remaining family and he found himself stuck in the middle, torn between wanting her to go and yet needing her to stay. In the end, both of them went, for she needed a guardian anyway and Arrluk thought it would be fun to see more of the world over the 4+ months it would take. They had enjoyed the trip immensely, but they had each thought that they had a good chance of never seeing each other again and their relationship had grown strained. Now, leaning against the fence at the academy, Arrluk could only wonder if he'd made the right decision. The ship which had brought them on the last stage of the journey would be in port for a few days to restock, so he had a day or two if he changed his mind. Then again .... No, it was no use. He would stay. He'd known it, but hadn't really wanted to believe. What if the Mog-ur's prediction came true? The old mystic was so seldem wrong. With a sigh, Arrluk began the long walk back to the port. Perhaps somewhere along the road he'd be able to push aside those nagging doubts. Maybe. |
| The girl - Seraph had dropped her off in a small but cosy room with a good view out over the courtyard. She hadn't brought very much with her- having to travel mostly by horse because she couldn't pay for anything more elaborate. Her family had given her some money but she had spent most of it on food and only had a couple of copper dollars left. Having dumped her two saddlebags on the bed and letting Sassy out of the larger one she went over to the window and rested her forehead against the cool glass. Zenia desperately wanted to be with her family - they were on the Shards right now - there was a festival there and a festival needs entertainers. "Come on Zen, I'm sure everything will be fine here. You'll learn enough to be safe again in the real world, then we can go home!" Purred Sassy, curling herself around Zenia's shoulders, "You're strong, I know you are! You can't go all soppy on me now." A single tear slipped into Zenia's eye but she dashed it away immediately, making a mental promise to herself that no matter how bad things got she would never let herself cry, for that would show weakness and she was not weak. Her eyes moved down to the tattoe across her stomach and she began to trace the outline with her finger. About half a year ago she and her brother had been employed as mercenaries to protect a merchants trade line. Late one night they had been ambushed and many of the merchants employees had been killed. It was only Zenia and Forath, her brother, who had managed to keep the bandits from the cargo. Zenia had sustained a nasty cut across her stomach which had left a huge and ugly scar. As soon as she'd reached civilisation she had the tatto done to cover up the awful marks. Aftermuch deliberation she had chosen a very complicated symbol that looked like nothing she had ever seen before. The merchant had told her it meant survivor in the ancient tongue and Zenia had instantly fallen in love with it. It had taken a long time to complete and most of her money was gone by the end but the result was magnificent and hid the scar completely, unless you looked very close. A uniform had been hung in her wardrobe. Zenia only had to glance at it to know that she would hate wearing it. It would cover almost her whole body and her people saw this as indecent. But her people weren't here now. "Will you be allowed to come to classes with me?" she asked Sassy, "I won't go unless you come too, and will you tell them you're a Felin?" "Since they're Oracles they probably already know," replied Sassy, "don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Unable to stop herself Zenia flung her arms around Sassy's furry body. "Thanks for coming," she whispered "Like I'd be left behind!" |
| After Cala left, Jo contuined unpacking. Then she looked through the handbook she had been given. She thought about what she wanted her choice classes to be, but decided she'd waited to make her final decsion. Just then, King barked and pawed at the door wanting to go outside. "You tired of being in here too? I saw a forest behind this building. Let's go explore it," Jo said grabbing her hooded cloak to block out the wind. She opened the door and King rushed down the hall and the stairs with Jo following close behind. She heard one of the perfects yell "No Running!" as they ran through the first floor but she didn't care. They burst through the doors and stepped out into the courtyard. The wind swished her cloak and her hair as it blew all around them. She loved this feeling, being outside in the cool air. Her parents always wondered how she could stand out in the cold for hours a never get sick, but somehow she did. King ran towards the back gate and Jo ran after him. She slowed down and started looking upward at the dark clouds rolling in. As dreary as it was, it still looked beautiful to her. All of a sudden, she found herself on the ground after running into something or rather someone. "Oh! I'm so sorry. It's completely my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," She said. The boy stared back at her and then nervously smiled. "It's okay. I shouldn't have walked in front of you." The both stood up and Jo realized they were practically the same height. The boy had sandy blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. Jo brushed herself off and then offered her hand to the boy. "Hi. I'm Jo and I just arrived awhile ago." "Hi, I'm Adam." |
| "Did you hurt yourself when you fell down?" Adam looked into piercing green eyes, oddly on a level with his own, that was nice. "I'm fine." The girl's abrupt answer bordered on being rude, but he realized that she was scared of her new surroundings. "Your dog ran out that way, I could help you look for him, if you like." Adam steadied his breathing and made sure that his face looked its kindest. He needed to reassure her and make sure she knew that he could trust her. "Alright, I guess." Adam put two of his fingers in his mouth and gave a piercing whistle. A crow flew towards him and landed on the road in front of him. Jo looked at the animal with suspicious eyes as the crow shuffled in the dirt. "Come here old friend, I need a favor. If you can help us, I promise to get you a decent dinner, alright?" The crow hopped up and then shuffled in two successive circles. Adam turned to look up at Jo from where he crouched on the ground. "That means he's game for just about anything." Then he turned his attention back to the crow. "We're missing a little puppy, he ran into the woods, see if you can spot him alright? We'll wait here for you." The crow pecked at Adam's hand and then briskly spread his wings and took to the sky. "You're going to let a bird find my dog?" Jo asked Adam. "Well he's not just any crow, he's Artemis, and he's been with me since I first went to live in the monestary." Adam crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest. He wanted to be a friend for Jo, but he had to defend Artemis, he'd known him longer. "You know when you're mad your eyes go the most interesting shade of blue." Jo remarked nonchalantey and leaned herself back against the wall of the Academy, enjoying the wind that was blowing in her hair. |
| Patrick Phillips Nicknames: Pat, Rick, Age: 13 Birthday: January 29th Nationality: Perlavaine Year at school: Firster Patrick wears very and I mean VERY stylish clothing as his parents are rich. He has brown hair, blue eyes and tan skin and often sounds like he's a little bit up himself. He's really a decent guy when you get to know him. His body itself is very muscular as he works out - running and at the gym Personality: Rick is generally polite, has a very casual air around him, like anything goes but yet is very fussy with whom he lets close to him which can be seen as being somewhat standoffish, overall he is good natured. He comes from a very peaceful land but yet has learned all of the possible martial arts as possible having being raised in the rich side of town by very wealthy parents. He was going to a very upbeat private school when he got his letter to attend the academy. He was disappointed that his parents wouldn't allow him to go until after a certain dinner party that they were having to celebrate him finally reaching manhood. Hobbies: Reading, writing and playing with his pet dragon Firo. Named as such as it is a fire breathing dragon. Pets: His pet dragon firo is quite a large dragon but is able to resize himself at will. Although getting him to have the will is something that Rick often has trouble with. The dragon can understand him and by a look in his dragon's eyes he can almost hear his dragon. Dragon's are very loyal creatures, they choose a human and stay with them for life, but are also very shy creatures and refuse to be seen by other humans and if a human tries to tell a friend about it is quite likely to nip the human quite hard to keep him or her silent. In a smaller form the dragon looks just like a little lizard and can be mistaken as such quite easily. Other: Has an interest in drama, -philosophy, world history and languages. Is a very good student. Patrick arrived incredibly late to attend Oracles Accademy and he knew it, but the Oracle and forseen that he would do so and had made arrangements for him to be taken care of. A girl was walking out of the front door to greet him at this very second and he smiled. Hoping that she wouldn't think of him as being a complete lous as he seemed a lot better dressed than she did in her uniform, but then again he would be stuck in that same uniform soon. He frowned but only for a second before he smiled and tried to unsuccessfully wave with the hand that was carrying his pet dragon. "Hi!" he said. Philosophy: Seek Justice |
| Hey guys, this is going wonderfully. We're all introduced now, so lets get on with the story! I've given the names of the other students, so that we can use them in the story as well. they're all the normal age for firsters (13-14) and, to keep things simpler, pretty average. You can play around with them, or pick one and give them a profile. but don't kill them. Seraph was getting very tired. The day had gone quickly, what with running around, greeting new students and guiding them to their rooms. she looked at the list that Kai had posted on the door to his "Office", a wooden hut built against the side of the north wall. she carefully read over the names of the new students Qannik Kamerak of the Iyrukai and beside that name, written in pencil as if jotted down as an afterthought, Arrluk Kamerak Joesphine ------ of Dorne. someone had scratched out the girl's last name and wrote "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" beside it. Adam of Andiria. in this case she didn't wonder at the abscence of a last name. Children raised in monestaries never had one: they were always given up upon entrance to the monestary. Keisa Pride-Welker of Perlavaine Taver Inglemann of Dorne Guido Fuentes of Zophia Zurielle Chakra of Kulsaan Pallas Howland of Bren Patrick Phillips of Perlavaine "well, thats four down, plus an extra. I wonder why Zenia isn't on there?" murmered Seraph to herself. she heard a rumbling from the road outside the compound, and opened the front gate. A carraige was approaching in a cloud of dust. seraph squinted, hnd against her eyes to ward off the glare from the setting sun, and pushed the front gate wide. The carraige drove past and into the front courtyard. She walked over to it as first a boy, then a girl of her won age stepped out. the carraige driver called out to her. "that'll be the last for the day Seraphine! These'uns are from perlavaine, picked 'em up from the stop an hour ago." "Thanks Madea." seraphine replied. "you've had a long day, go take a rest." the carraige driver/hostler laughed and nodded, diving the carraige off to the barn. Seraphine turned her attention the the new arrivals. she was so tired, she only registered their sex, and that they were both wearing expensive clothing. "I'm Seraphine" she said simply. "It's late, and you must be tired and hungry." she looked over her sholder at the sound of shoes on cobblestone and smiled at the appearance of Butterfly. "This is Butterfly. He's a student here as well, and he'll be taking you to your room-" she gave the boy a questioning look, and he quickly said "Patrick, Patrick Phillips." She nodded. "welcome to Oracle academie Patrick. I'll show you to your room-" she said, turning this time to the young girl, who was standing there looking scared and defensive. "Keisa Pride-welker." the girl put in stiffly. Seraphine merely nodded and quickly led the girl toward the dorm, after a brisk goodnight to Butterfly and Patrick. Seraphine stole a few glances at the new girl as she led her to an empty room. The girl was average in size and height, but her way of standing like there was a rod down her back made her seem taller. Her hair was blonde and it curled perfectly, her eyes cornflower blue. the only thing that saved her from being stunningly beautiful was the flock of freckles that were scattered across her thin nose and cheeks. To Seraph, she looked like a frightened girl trying to hide it through a mask of arrogance. "this is your room."she said, stopping at the chamber next door to her own. "will you be alright?" the girl looked for a moment as if she might cry, but swolled the tears and nodded curtly, before entering the chamber and closing the door. Seraphine sighed and went into her own room. she went quickly through her evening rituals of cleansing and prayer, then with a sigh retired to her bed: a stiff matt on the floor, covered with a soft blanket made from the wool of the goats she used to protect. She had long ago had the actual bed and mattress taken out. However, with the sobs from next door creeping through the walls, it was a while before she actually fell asleep. |
| She could feel it, lurking in the back of her conscious. It was haunting her, pulling at her like a rabid dog as she slowly paced the length of her room. Pen was curled up on her bed, as neatly made as the day she arrived, snoring softly and out beyond the panes of glass the stars winked and blinked in the sky above. She quickly crossed and pressed her hands, palm opened, against the glass as she stared out into the night. I have to get out of here…these walls are too close…I have to get away, I have to…I have to train, because it is only in my training I can find peace from these memories that haunt my dreams as nightmares. It was well beyond lights out, but she slunk out with a careful, long practiced silence. Her bare feet made no noise on the steps, the doors shut silently behind her and the bushes barely rustled as she brushed by them like a passing shadow in the night. She made it to her usual secluded spot in the woods and trained until her muscles ached and sweat dripped off her nose. Nothing invaded her thoughts when she trained, not even the threat of the nightmare that had driven her out of doors. She sank to her knees, lips parted, panting slightly as the moonlight got caught in the darkness of her hair. A warm body pressed into her and she draped an arm over Pen and pressed her forehead into his fur. “Oh Pen,” she murmured softly, “they’ve been getting worse. And this year is going to be rough. Benjiro has me assisting in two of his classes, my own year and the Firsters, in addition to monopolizing all of my freework.” She pulled herself up and the great golden cat pressed himself against her thigh and rubbed his cold nose against her palm. “But, I can do anything I have to.” She sighed and an invisible weight settled itself back onto her shoulders as she looked up again at the stars. The Archer had moved into place in the sky and she knew it was time to head back. “Let’s go, Pen. I don’t want to be seen and set a bad example for the Firsters. We really aren’t supposed to be out here. Besides, sunrise is in a few hours and I have to do iado.” |
| There were only six third years at the Academie - and that included Zenia, who for some reason had been placed two years ahead of normal. Butterfly wasn't sure whether he liked this or not; for some inexplicable reason, whenever he saw her, he felt like he had to say something but was never entirely sure what. Since he normally never had problems speaking, this wasn't a pleasant experience. However, once the first class - maths, as it happened - had started, it wasn't so much of a problem. The deeply satisfying world of geometry kept his mouth shut for the entire hour - although now and then he couldn't help his attention wandering back to, predictably, Zenia. She looked uncomfortable in the uniform, after the glorious freedom her almost-not-there clothes of yesterday had provided, and kept glancing at the big cat purring by her feet - for reassurance, or for what purpose, Butterfly couldn't guess. In the general scrum to get to the next lesson, Butterfly maneuvered next to her. "Just out of interest, why're you a Thirder if this is your first year?" "I didn't want to do children's work," she replied defensively. "This isn't very hard, anyway. What's our next class?" "Language. Watch out for Lucia... that's Dr. Gamble." Instinctively, Butterfly dropped his voice as they entered the classroom - although the fearsome Dr. Gamble was nowhere to be seen. "Should I be afraid?" Butterfly grinned. "Only if you're stupid." "Which I am not." Zenia dropped her books on a desk at the back, and seated herself without another word. The big cat took up its position, like the girl refusing to spare Butterfly another look. He stared at her for a moment, then sat down next to Seraphine as the rest of the class scurried in, none of them wanting to be late to one of Lucia Gamble's classes. "She must be pretty smart," he muttered to Seraphine. "Thirder in her first year?" The younger girl raised an eyebrow at Butterfly, then cracked a rare smile. If it hadn't been her, she would have giggled. "What? What did I do?" "Apparently failed to notice that I wished to begin the lesson," Dr. Gamble chimed in acerbically from the front of the room. "May we begin?" |
The path back towards port was a long, lonely one for Arrluk. He mused on the day's events as he walked. He wished he'd told Qannik he was proud of her and loved her. So far as she knew, that was their last moment together. She'd begged him not to leave. What a surprise she'd get seeing him tomorrow! Arrluk smiled, feeling gladness start to push aside the gloom in his heart. He lifted his head from the road at the sound of hoof-beats. He stepped off the road to allow it to pass, still wondering at the turn of his fortunes. "Hoy, there!" called the driver, slowing the team as they neared. "Need a lift?" Arrluk shook his head and waved the driver on, but the weathered man in the seat called back cheerily, "I'll drop ye off at the docks, 'fer a handful o' copper bits only. Got me a mind fer some company down the road." Arrluk considered. It was late, and a long way to port and back. He was tired, now that his active mind had caught up to the weariness of his body. All the emotions of the day wore on him. "Okay," he agreed, swinging up to sit beside the driver. He had a glimpse of the man's face in the faint light and for a moment thought he recognized him. But, then he was dumping coins into his hand and the carriage was moving once more. Arrluk settled against the backrest as the driver gabbled on about miscellaneous subjects. Arrluk nodded his head and grunted from time to time, but the driver didn't seem to need responses and in time the incessant droning faded to the edges of Arrluk's thoughts. Now that he'd made up his mind to stay, he felt compelled to ponder on the Mog-ur's troublesome prediction. He was somewhat family, being Arrluk and Qannik's grandmother's half-brother. He was now the closest relation the two siblings had, since Aanaga, their grandmother, had died. From the first inkling of power, Qannik had studied under him. To them, he was a kind, sometimes absent-minded, but lovable great-uncle instead of the mostly mysterious, inscrutable shaman. There'd been something frantic, or even maniac about the way the old Mog-ur had seized on sending Qannik away. That was half of Qannik's distress. All of a sudden, she'd said, he had turned and looked upon her as a stranger might. It was if the world had dropped out of her universe. Suddenly, all was not right with the world and in fact she was being forcibly expelled from all she'd known, without a chance to accustomize herself to the changes. What would have caused such a break in their relationship? Arrluk wondered. Come to think of it, there was something else peculiar about that day. Arrluk's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Up until now, he hadn't thought anything about it, but now -- now he was sure that the Council of Elders had gathered that day. Hunting had been good, so only a small group went out, the younger ones needing the experience. Supposedly, the Elders had stayed behind because another storm was likely to break and they didn't want to slow down the hunting party. Still, Arrluk now remembered that Mog-ur had left the maptibaq early that day, gone even when Arrluk rose from bed. Hmm, there was something there, he could feel it. What did it mean? What did that have to do with Qannik? Rattling of the carriage wheels on cobblestones jolted Arrluk from his thoughts. He sat up straighter, stealing a sideways glance at the driver who was now whistling tunelessly. In no time at all, Arrluk climbed down from the seat, waved his thanks, and strode off down the pier. Distracted, he didn't notice the driver watching him walk away. The merchant vessel, the Grey Goose, or Graeggos, in the tongue of the Islanders, was a beautiful vessel, shining like a jewel from the colored glass in her lanterns. The bay belonging to the port here was, according to Graeggos' hands, was unique in its deep draft. There were only a few ports in which Graeggos could dock at the pier. As it were, Arrluk strode by the sentry on the gangplank with a cheery wave and smile he didn't really feel. He went to the first mate first, to find out where the captain was. If he wasn't readily accessible, Arrluk could do his business with the first mate, although that wouldn't be his choice. Arrluk knocked on the door and stepped inside when bade to enter. Leofric, the first mate, sat in his cramped quarters, quill poised above parchment as he studied the books. He smiled when he saw his visitor and thrust his quill back into the inkpot. "Ah! Arrluk! Good to see you, man! Come, have a seat! Have some wine! How did the visit to the Academie go?" Arrluk gratefully slipped into the proffered chair, banging his elbow painfully on the door as he did so. With Leofric's writing table pulled out of the wall, the usual chair was crammed into half the space it normally used. Leofric himself perched on the edge of his bunk, back to the window. The swinging lamp hanging from the ceiling cast a flickering glow. Arrluk took a gulp of the wine Leofric handed him, leaning back in his chair. "I saw my sister to the Academie, true. The offered me a place." Leofric's eyebrows rose. "Indeed! And what will you do?" Arrluk took another sip, swirling the liquid inside the glass and staring at it. "I am going to stay," he said, "my uncle be damned." Huh! Arrluk thought to himself, I had best not be drinking any more of this! He felt very relaxed, though, and was having difficulty concentrating on setting the glass down. It toppled from his fingers in slow motion, hitting the edge of the table and shattering. What its effects might be, Arrluk didn't know, because he slumped forward, too, his ears hearing the spoken words, but without communicating the meaning to his mind. "That's what I was afraid of." Qannik shot upright in bed, heart pounding. Already, her dream was fading, her efforts to hang onto it only causing the images to wilter faster. There was a queer, jangling-tinkling sound distracting her. Her eyes felt red and gritty, sore, even. Certainly, her throat hurt. Had she fallen asleep crying? What was that ceaseless noise? Turning every which way, Qannik finally located the source, a chiming, mechanical waterfall. As the water fell from the top into the "pool" at the bottom, the water tinkled onto chimes. Even as she watched, the water dropped faster, increasing the racket. "Utaqiurralak! Sheesh!" Qannik muttered, flopping out of the strange bed. She still wore her day clothes and felt rumpled and dirty. Crossing to the singing fountain, Qannik pressed her hands to her ears. How did one turn the thing off? "Upkuabaa!" she shouted at the thing. "Shut-up all ready! Uvafalu itqumaruq! Awake! I'm awake!" It stopped. The water kept running, but the fountain no longer chimed. Qannik regarded the device suspiciously for a moment before letting go of her ears. Not sure what time it was, she hurried into her school clothes, and was just brushing her hair when the fountain began to chime again. With a frantic, half-moan, half-scream of frustration, she pelted from the room. The new clothes felt strange to her, but she was only interested to run far enough that she could no longer hear the alarm bells. As she ran, she dodged around a corner, past a couple of adults who stared at her curiously, and down some stairs into the yard. Jomei Benjiro and Sage Woodson paused in their conversation as the little girl ran past. They smiled a little, each remembering their own childhood, before turning back to their more serious conversation. "But he said he would stay," the headmaster said, frowning. "Yes," Benjiro answered. "He wasn't at breakfast, but a lot of the students slept in this morning." Woodson scowled, rubbing his face. "I told you not to let him out of your sight. The seers were especially concerned about this boy, that he not leave." "Why?" "I'm not sure, and that bothers me. Well, the firsters have Combat first today, so keep me posted." Benjiro nodded to the headmaster and continued on his way to class. He was interested to know how the Iyruk siblings would fare. The first day of combat and weapons training was always interesting. |
| Maths had been relatively easy although it had been strange working in the common tongue. Her own language was a medley of languages from all over the world so she didn't find the transition too hard - just a bit confusing. Languages was a different matter however - despite the slightly startling first impression of Dr. Gamble she felt pretty confident of her abilities. Her family had travelled over most of the world and in doing so had learnt at least a little of all of the common languages. Zenia thought back to when she had woken that morning. She'd been roused from a deep sleep by a tinkling sound and Sassy hissing quietly by her feet. "What is it Sas?" she'd asked sleepily, stumbling out of her warm bed to the window, where she threw back the shutters. Pausing only a second to gaze out at the courtyard she'd turned to regard the source of the noise - it was a small fountain - obviously an alarm clock to get the lazy out of bed. "Bloody hell Zen, shut it up will you?" complained Sassy - still curled up on the bed. "How?!" she asked, bemused. "Ask it," replied the Felin, "if you tell it to stop the sound will cease for a few minutes - then you've got to touch the water - that stops it completely." "Stop," Zenia said to the fountain, feeling a bit foolish. To her surprise it did! After a mew of encouragement from Sassy she reached out her forefinger and touched the running water. It stopped insatntly. Zenia snatched her finger back. She expected this was magic and she did not like anything superstitious or arcane. Shaking her head she turned back to the bed, seriously tempted to dive back under the warm covers. A glance at the open window however convinced her that she needed to get dressed and go downstairs if she was going to get to breakfast on time. Sighing she opened her wardrobe, dread welling up in her throat as she surveyed the clothes. She had slept in a thin baggy T-shirt, leaving her normal clothes on the chair beside her bed. For a moment she was tempted to put them back on - she'd do anything not to have to wear the hideous uniform. "You're going to have to put it on sometime." observed Sassy from the bed, "might as well get it over with." "But Sas it's indescant, it's just not right to cover up your whole body." "It's okay here, no-one sees it as indescant." Sassy replied. "I DO!!!" Zenia all but screamed, "I don't care what they think - I know what I should and should not do." A silence fell in the room as Zenia pulled the uniform from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. Trying to put off the inevitable she scanned the room, looking for a distraction. Her eyes fell on a little booklet that had been left on the table next to the singing fountain. She had read it last night and spent time committing her timetable to memory. There'd been a page on which she'd been asked to choose two extra subjects. World history had jumped out at her immediately. It would be quite easy for her with all her family's travelling and she had an interest in the subject. None of the other options however had been at all appealing to Zenia so she had decided to sleep on it. Leaving the dreadful uniform on the bed she snatched up the booklet, flicking through to the options page. She still didn't know what she was going to take so she closed her eyes and ran her finger down the page. Stopping it randomnly on a subject. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at the option she had chosen. carpentry and woodworking. Shrugging Zenia turned back to the uniform. Taking a deep breath she snatched it up and put in on. She wore the grey pants as low as she could - right down on her hips and she also left most of the buttons of the blouse undone - only doing up enough to cover her breasts. Sighing she turned and picked up Sassy and having let the Felin curl around her shoulders she headed out the door. A question from Dr. Gamble jolted Zenia out of her revery. "What is the meaning of the word ubiquitous Zenia?" "What?" "Ubiquitous, what does it mean?" "Oh, sorry doctor - it means to be everywhere at the same time." "Very good Zenia," the doctor seemed grudgingly impressed. Zenia only nodded in response., lowering her eyes back down to her workbook. She could feel Butterfly's eyes on the back of her neck and it sent a tingle down her spine. Despite herself she really liked the boy and because of this she was pushing him as far away as she could from herself. She wanted friends, she really did but she couldn't trust them or herself, not to go away and leave her alone...again. |
| Arms practice is first, and its in that direction, Adam thought to himself fairly certain that he had gotten the direction correct. Adam was looking forward to the practice and only hoped he would do OK. A girl named Cala taught the class, she was a very good instructor but Adam was shocked. Growing up in a monestary he had seen no women for most of his life, but he remembered somethings from his childhood. And one of those was that women stayed at home and they definitley didn't fight! The girl was still running down the list of do's and dont's and safety measures that the class would be following, so Adam let his mind drift. Unfortunatley he didn't hear Cala ask for a volunteer for a demonstration. "Hey, blondie, how bout you? Wanna give me a whack?" His standard must be slipping, she couldn't have said what she just did, did she? "Name!" The way she barked the single word made it clear that it was not a request. "My name is Adam." He stood as he spoke and stepped forwards closer to the girl, she was tall but not quite as tall as he was. "Good-morning Adam. Did you stretch this morning or should we wait for you?" This Cala was very good at strategy, but she was also calm and in control. "I always stretch, Master Cala." Adam decided to lean towards courtesy rather than show disrepect. "Good, we will begin with martial arts, hand-to-hand combat, I'll try to go easy on you since you're a firster." Thought was erased from his mind as he took his stance in front of Cala. Round-kick here to test the water, drop down on hands and knees to surprise her, defensive moves. Before he knew it, he was lying flat on his back, covered with sweat, Cala looked tired also. Adam hadn't been beaten in a while, but he took it in good grace, standing up slowly as his body became aware of new hurts. Cala looked at him with suspicion in her eyes. "What kind of padding are you wearing?" "I will not discuss my clothing, according to the rules of this school, they are within the standards set." Adam's heart jumped into his throat, could she know? Could she possibly know his secret? The secret that his parents had instilled in him since his twin brother had died at birth? here's Jo's addition. WE ALL HOPE YOUR WRIST FEELS BETTER! Jo heard a strange chiming noise and rolled over in bed. “No. I’m not getting up. You can’t make me,” she mumbled still half asleep. She raised her head and looked outside. Crud! She was late for her 1st class. “Wait a minute!” Jo exclaimed as she sat straight up in bed. “This is a great way to start my plans for getting kicked out. I wonder what punishment I would get if I arrived just before class was over or better yet if I completely skipped all classes today. There was a city just down the road that she could spend the day in. The only thing that would make it better was if Thunder was here.” She quickly ordered the fountain thing to stop and got up to get dressed. She put on her cloak over her clothes and pulled up the hood. “Come on, King. Be quiet though,” she whispered as she opened the door. The hall was empty with everyone at their classes. She determined that the first class was about to be over so she needed to hurry and get out before everyone switched classes. She slipped into the courtyard but to her dismay the firsters were having combat and weapons class there. “Crud!” she said to herself. She watched them for awhile trying to find away around them. Adam and Cala were fighting and Adam was doing pretty good for being a firster. They must of taught martial arts at the monastery he lived on before coming here. The night before after he had helped her find King, they walked around the forest just talking about all kinds of stuff. He seemed nervous around her, but that was okay. They still had fun together and that’s all Jo really cared about. Fun. Just then Cala knocked Adam to the ground. It looked like it hurt, but Adam didn’t show it if it did. He got up, nodded to Cala, and then walked around to the back of the group. If Jo could get his attention, he could probably help her get out of here and maybe even come with her. She smiled at the thought. Now all she had to do was figure out how to get his attention without getting caught and of course she was up for the challenge. |
| Okay guys, time to get things moving again. Spring break is next week for me, so I'll do my best to get into town and check things. I don't have internet at home:( Seraphine woke early on Satuday. Before the sun rose, she drifted back into consciousness, wondering vaguely why she was awake. Then she remembered. Today was Market day, and the horse fair was in town. The fair had made its way into oracle city the day before, and Seraph, to her disappointment, had not been able to go. Fridays were not generally busy, but after classes she had been corralled by first Ab’eh Sinjin, who was copying out sheet music and had begged her help, for she had a neat, steady hand and rarely made mistakes. After she had escaped from the Ab’eh, she was cornered by Headmaster Sage, who wanted to know about the new students, especially Qannik and Arisa. She reported as best she could; they both seemed to be having a difficult time, and were having trouble settling for various reasons. For Qannik, the problem was the first week was finished and she still hadn’t spoken to anyone. She showed up to her classes, but wouldn’t answer questions aloud. During free learning and free time, she would disappear. Seraph was trying to become friends; whenever she saw the girl, she would smile and say hello, and regularly stopped by Qannik’s room to check on her. At most, she was rewarded by the fact that Qannik no longer seemed frightened of her. As for Keisa, the girl was simply sullen and arrogant. Seraph knew that it was a persona that the girl put on so no one would know she was scared, but others didn’t, and so were free to dislike her. Seraph was politely friendly, but she found her overtures ignored. Arisa herself made no effort to make friends. The rest of the students, she informed him, seemed to be doing fine. Seraph suspected that there might be problems with Jo, but kept her thoughts to herself. Of course, the questions soon lead away from the other students and onto Seraphine herself, and she found herself being quizzed about whether she was making any friends of the first years. She tried to evade the questions, but he soon wrested the answer out of her, and gave her a gentle, but thorough lecture, telling her to take initiative and show the courage that he knew she was capable of. As she listened to his warm, comforting tones, her pent up emotions had snapped and she ended up crying for a good fifteen minutes as the headmaster sat, arm around her shoulder. Remembering this made Seraph blush, and she got up quickly and began to dress to escape the feeling. She didn’t exactly have a crush on the Headmaster. The thought of being enamored with a married man, no matter how kind and handsome, was appalling to her. She firmly told herself that she merely admired and respected the man, but Seraphine’s feelings were never as simple as that. She didn’t admire: she hero worshiped. She didn’t respect, she adored. She loved the headmaster as much as she loved her own parents, though she wouldn’t admit it. After all, it was he who had been there for her from the beginning, since she had come to the school as a fierce and frightened ten year old. He had provided the hugs when she needed them, had listened when she needed to talk, had known when she needed to be stolen away from the school and taken for a walk in the woods. Several times, he had brought her home with him to eat with his wife Meadow and their enormous family, and never had she felt like she didn’t belong. But, as usual, the intensity of her emotion embarrassed the serious girl, and she tried to ignore it. Well, after the crying episode that day, the thought of going out was put away: due to a stroke of bad luck when the genes where handed out, Seraphine had inherited her mother’s trait of staying red, swollen and blotchy for hours after she cried. Seraph had asked Cala to bring her dinner, and then retired to her room for the rest of the evening. Cala had known Seraph for long enough to know about the problem, and seemed to know that Seraph wouldn’t want to talk about having cried. Seraph smiled as she thought of the older girl. Cala had always been nice to her, and had never treated her like a child where so many of the other students had. Seraph made a mental note to thank her for the help after she returned from the fair. Seraph finished dressing and, as she always did, inspected herself in the mirror. Her grey pants were without a wrinkle, as was her soft cotton blouse. She knew that some of the students disliked the uniform, though she didn’t understand why. It was comfortable and easy to move in, and she thought it was quite nice looking. Living in the desert, she had always worn dresses, always of the same, finely woven goat wool. Even though her father was the chieftain of the Yeshaia, there was never anything else. The Kulsaani refused to trade with the “desert ticks” as they called them. While her dresses had been quite nice, she also felt that they marked her, setting her apart from the rest of the students. She knew that was why Headmaster Sage had instated the Uniform. The students, from so many different countries and backgrounds, would all be on equal footing as far as he could manage. He had even appealed to the oracle to instate the stipend, so that poorer students would not be without spending money. As she thought of the stipend, she turned to the floor by her bed. She pried up a floor board and pulled a small leather bag from the hiding space that hid it. Inside was almost every bit that Seraph had ever been given, from the stipend, doing odd jobs, or as a gift. She was a spendthrift by nature, and had rarely spent money on anything other than schoolbooks and supplies. She dumped it out and counted it. She had exactly four silver dollars, seven silver bits and four copper dollars. She put the money back in the bag and hung it around her neck by the leather cord that hung from it. She slung on her cardigan- it was getting cooler outdoors- and headed out of the dorm. The sun was up by the time she reached the market district. The horses were beginning to wake, and they called to each other in the crisp morning air, chuffling quietly. The merchants and traders were sleepily taking their posts beside their perspective corrals and booths, and a few other early risers were beginning to wander around the pens, looking at the horses. Seraph stopped at a bakery booth and bought herself a sausage and cheese filled pastry. Nibbling slowly, she began to wander as well, inspecting the horses with a well trained eye. When she came to the far end of the district, she stopped, gazing sharply at the horses in the second to last corral. The beasts were smaller, none larger than sixteen hands, and fine boned. Regal heads were held high as some pranced around in the morning sun, and other bent daintily to pick up the hay strewn for them to eat. Seraph drew closer, and stared with a smile. One or two of the horses glanced at her curiously. They were Desert horses! Seraphine was sure of it. Her father had one, as did her brother, and many of the other Yeshaia. They were fast and strong, and their endurance was legendary, along with their intelligence and affable nature. “Ah!” she heard a lilting voice behind her, “you are a student from the Academy! Are you-” the voice broke off as Seraphine turned around. The mawkish, simpering expression turned to one of disgust and scorn. The accented Common turned to harsh Kulsaani “desert tick! Dirty sand grubber!” “Peace be with you as well, trader.” Seraphine replied dryly in the same language. “Is this how you always treat prospective customers, or are you just grumpy in the mornings?” The trader laughed. “Like you have enough money to buy a horse! You aren’t just a tick; you’re a stupid little girl!” His scorn, however, faded as he saw the anger simmering in Seraphine’s cold slate gaze. He took a step back, his own narrow black eyes widening in fear. “I’m giving you one more chance trader, since I would prefer a desert horse to the other horses here. But I swear by the One God, if you try me again you will regret it. I have money, so show me the best you have.” The trader, still slightly scared, nodded sullenly and went into the pen with the horses. Ears flattened and hooves stamped at he came near, but he managed to grab onto one of the horses’ halters. He dragged it over to the fence, so Seraph could see it. “This one is the finest of the lot. See his fine coloring?” The merchant attempted to touch the neck of the proud bay, but the horse put his ears back and whipped his head around, going for the man’s fat fingers. The trader yanked his hand away. “He is spirited, as you can see.” Seraph looked at the horse. He was lovely, but with closer scrutiny, she shook her head. “I’m not interested in stallions.” She said bluntly. “show me only mares and geldings please.” She looked over at the herd, and saw a flash of grey. “The grey one, over there, is it a stallion?” The merchant shook his head. “bring it over.” Grumbling, the merchant did so. As he urged the horse forward, Seraph let out a soft breath of wonder. It was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. It was a soft heather gray, with a dark, smooth black mane. It stepped daintily forward as the merchant led it, rolling dark eyes as he tugged at the halter. Seraph managed to school her expression into vague interest before the horse seller could see. “You have a good eye.” The merchant admitted grudgingly. “This mare is one of the best I have. She comes from a long line of champions; some of the best blood in Kulsaan has gone into her.” “How did you come across her?” Seraph asked blandly. The merchant scowled just the same. “I didn’t steal her, if that’s what you’re asking. The owner got himself into a tight spot with gambling debts. I took his horses, instead of making him pay the whole amount.” “How kind of you.” Seraph remarked with a slight smile. She hopped into the ring and walked over to the horse. It was smaller, around fourteen hands, the perfect size for the small girl. Its left ear pricked forward slightly, and Seraph offered her palm to sniff before going over the mare thoroughly, making sure she was sound. “Is she trained, or would I have to teach her to take a rider?” “All my horses are trained.” The merchant replied scornfully. “hardly any money in selling green horses.” “How much are you asking?” “Six silver dollars.” “SIX??” cried Seraph, managing to sound more outraged than she actually felt. “I wouldn’t pay two for a mare in that condition, no matter what her blood. Look how thin she is!” The bartering went on for fifteen minutes, Seraph finally getting the merchant down to three silver dollars and seven silver bits. The merchant lead her over to his canopy, where he pulled out and unlocked a metal money box and Seraph handed him the money. As she did so, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. It was a young dog, skinny as a lathe, cowering in the shadow of the merchant’s chair. Seraph’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to that poor dog!?” The merchant looked down at the animal, and it crouched even lower to the ground, watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, this mutt? That gambler gave him to me too. Told me he was descended from a line of purebred Kulsaani dunehounds. Found out later it was just a dud, from when a wild desert dog got into one of the liar’s kennels and had a heyday. I’m looking to get rid of it. You interested?” the greedy lech raised a bushy eyebrow, and Seraph grimaced. “That dog is half dead. I’d be doing you a favor to take it of your hands, so that you wouldn’t have to pay the disposal fee when it keels over.” “One copper dollar. He is half Kulsaani dunehound.” “That’s the dead half. Five copper bits.” The merchant sighed. “Fine, just give me the money. At least I don’t have to feed the cur anymore.” “Did you bother to feed it before?” Seraphine wondered to herself. She walked over to the dog, taking of her cardigan. It cowered down, not moving. She wrapped it with the cardigan and picked it up, while the merchant put away the money box and put her new horse on a lead. She nodded a thank you, but the man simply spat on the ground at her feet and turned away. Seraph quickly went and bought a plain old sheet from the rag vendor. She turned the sheet into a kind of sack, and tied it around her body and over her shoulder. The dog she had set down as she worked, but he rarely moved, barely flicking his ear when a fly landed on it. Her new horse watche curiously, from her place tied at a post. “I hope thi works, my pretty girl.” Seraph remarked to her softly. She picked up the apathetic hound and lowered it into the contraption; he merely stirred against her and fell still. Then, untying the mare from the post, she set a brisk pace toward home. ------- Two women, one barely more than a girl, leaned over the edge of a wood stall, gazing at a gorgeous gray horse. “I’ll have to admit,” said Madea, running a hand over her short red hair, “your horse is absolutely beautiful. Have you decided what to name her yet?” “Her name is Gevira” Seraphine answered proudly. “In common, it means Lady.” Madea nodded. “Good choice. What about him?” Seraph looked at Madea, then followed her gaze to the dog that lay in the corner of Gevira’s stall. Seraph had finally gotten a good look at it when they had returned from market. Every bone was visible under a thin layer of skin and smooth, golden fur. His face was long, thin and pointed, his nose small and black, his eyes large and round. His gigantic ears were pointed and stiff, looking like small, outstretched wings attached vertically to his head, and his long bushy tail was perpetually tucked beneath his legs. “Gevira doesn’t mind him. She seems to like the company.” Seraph said, but Madea shook her head. “I meant, what did you name him?” “Oh.” Seraph looked at the dog, who, when he saw her gaze, turned his own away quickly. “I named him Kofer.” “What’s that mean?” asked Madea, who was surprised when Seraphine laughed slightly. “In common, it translates as “the price of a life.” As much as she would have liked to, Seraph couldn’t stay with her new pets all day. Soon, with a final goodbye and a hug for Madea, she returned to her room to study. She was writing a essay about Kulsaan’s international relations for Professor Gamble, Theory excercizes to do and scales to practice for Ab’eh Sinjin, and a list of Medicinal plants to memorize from Headmaster Sage. Rishi had also assigned some equations, for both science and mathmatics. Rishi, the youngest teacher in the school, had graduated from oracle two years before, and had been a classmate of Thirders and Uppers. As a result, he insisted on being called by his use name, and still spent time with many of the students outside of class. Seraph finished the essay quickly and moved to her music work. She had learned drum and various flute type instruments throughout her life in the desert, and the Ab’eh had been helping her advance her skills in both. She liked the intensity of drums, and the way her flute, hornpipe, fife and recorder could adjust to fit all of her moods. To release the energy she had pent up while working, she got out her hand drum and began to tap out basic rhythms, building volume and getting louder as she went. The beat came to a peak and she cut it off, breathing hard. With a hand that shook slightly, she reached up and smoothed her hair behind her ears. As she did, a movement by the door caught her eye. A small, round face peered around the door, dark eyes watching the thin, angular girl with interest. When Seraph looked up, it withdrew slightly, but didn’t leave. “hi Qannik!” Seraphine exclaimed happily. Qannik smiled slightly, still watching, her hand fluttering over the grain of the wood door. “Hello.” She replied in a soft, shy voice, before disappearing once again. Thant night, as Seraphine climbed into her pallet, she thought about the next day. “I wonder if anyone will remember my birthday?” she wondered to herself, before falling gently to sleep. |
| Cala's eyes wandered over the grain of the wood at the portside tavern. I am invisible, she thought to herself, Just another face in the crowd, nothing about me to stand out. And she had made sure this was true. Wax dulled her lips, tumble of raven wing hair tamed and tied behid her head, makeup applied on her cheeks even made her eyes lackluster. And so she sat, listening and waiting. As she waited for the right words to find their way to her on the air she thought back to the day Benjiro set her to her task at hand, to the first day of assisting in the first years. There was so much she told them, she tried to hammer the importance of what they were doing into their heads. She could only hoped they, somehow, understood at least one small part of it. <center>~*~</i> She looked over the new, young faces and smiled. "Okay!" she said, clapping her hands together, "sit." Her voice was firm as they sat about ther and she joined them on the ground. "What you just saw me do, fight with Adam I mean, I will not do again. And I hope never to see any of you do that, also, Benjiro and I will never ask you to do that in this class. Fighting just to fight, just to prove something," she shook her head. "The first rule of fighting is never fight, the second rule, if you fight, win. I know wha tyou're thinking. Then why have this class, why bother studying this? Hypocritical? No. You fight and only fight to protect yourself and the innocent. Only fight if there is no other way." She put particular emphesis on the last few words and held each of them with her eyes. This was so important and she wanted them to realize the duty, th eimportance, the responsibility of what she was teaching them. "In this class, either myself or Master Benjiro or both of us, will be instructing you. I have already gone over the etiquette and I expect all of you to stick to it. We ill not tolerate disrespect in here or an ego," she paused again. "The etiquette, the rules, are here for a reason. Each of you are putting your lives into my hands and that is something I take very seriously. On this same line, also realize that you are trusting others, and others are trusting you, with their lives. When you train with someone-train with them and respect them. If you're supposed to punch somenone as part of a technique, actually try to punch them. In the real world people will not try to go gentle or try to cause as little harm as possible. So why train this way? On tha tnote we will not be using paddings or protections or mats. We will only use mats until you all learn to fall, then no more mats. Your blocks and the art we train will be the only protection and padding you will ever need. Afterall, in the real world, you won't have a mat. Train to the extreme, then everything else will be easy." "Since you are first years we will be focusing primarily on unarmed combat, but as the year progresses we will introduce you to other weapons. But why start unarmed? Because unarmed gives you the foundation for everything else. And if you lose your weapon you will always have your body." "We will start with the basics because the basics are so important. I am still trying to master the basics because they are that important. Basics include stances, basic blocks, and kata...other techniques will be introduced as we go. This class is also not all about physical fighting. We will also meet in the classroom, where Benjiro will alsways be teaching, to study battles, tactrics, etc. That will be every couple days or so." "Okay, that's all for today." She got to her feet the proper way, without using her hands and dusted herself off. "Don't leave yet, we have to finish. Line up." She taught them the proper way to finish, bowing to the master and allowing her to leave first. She caught Adam on the way out. "I'm sorry for making you volunteer early, but rank should step up." "What?" he looked at her curiously. "As you've proven, you've trained before, but I could tell by your stances when you came in. But I wanted to talk to you." She thought she sensed some nervousness in the young man. "You are obviously ahead of your fellow first years but it will still be beneficial t you and them to stay and train at this lever. However, it would not be fair to you or your training if we didn't offer you some other options, so talk to Master Benjiro if you would like some additional training." It had been later that evening, during her free work, when she was playing a strategy game with Benjiro, when he had given her the task. "Cala," he said, watching her move a colored stone across the board, "I have been debating this, with myself, but I have an assignment for you. I think it will be good training." "Hmm?" she said, looking up from the board. "We are missing a student. Arrluk- Qannik's brother. He disappeared." "But Benjiro, I thought he wasn't staying." "There was a change of plans," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "But he is gone. And before you say it, he had already agreed to stay. That young man doesn't seem to be one that goes back on his word. So you're task is simply to find him or news of him. It has been a while since you have worked on the small scale and...well, you are tactical and strategical. You can handle this. If the situation involves more than simply information gathering...well, then use your experience guided by intelligence." <center>~*~</center> And so she sat, letting the eyes slip over her unremarkable appearence. Complete disguise in the daylight would be far too obvious and attract more attention than she wanted. From what little she heard she was glad of her disguise. The situation was delicate, very delicate. She did not know the enemy and she had no troops to move across her board. No, she must use words as her pawns to prevent the ship from sailing. Words and the superstition of sailors. She ordered another drink, a concoction of local fruits, and waited for the bar maid to come back. "I saw a selkie, sunning himself yesterday on the beach. He wasn't wearing his skin. He let me see him. You know what that means," she said in low hushed tones. "But don't tell a soul. I can get good money from the information." The barmaid's eyes lit up with greed but she shook her head confused. "Then why are you telling me miss?" "Because I have no coin..." "Ahh," she said in sudden understanding. "Well..." she said licking her lips and glancing over at the group of sailors she had been flirting with all evening. "Well I suppose you're drink has been paid for yes?" Cala smiled softly. "Thank you ma'am." She held her breath as the barmaid went about her buisness. The best plans go awry the moment the first arrow leaves the bow. Go talk to them. she silently will the buxom young woman, Go tell them you exciting news about bad weather apporaching. A selkie letting someone catch a glimpse in the sun can only mean less sun soon. Go tell them so they will have a reason to pay attention to you. It took her a bit but the maid eventually made her way over to the laughing raunchy group. Cala smiled and slipped away. No ship would be sailing soon. |
| It was Market Day and, as always, Butterfly raced through breakfast feeling at any moment that he'd burst into song. He loved Market Days in Oracle City. There'd be the tale-spinners, and the map-sellers, and people selling all manner of intriguing and pretty curiosities; and, of course, there'd be the sweets. The horse fair was in town too, which meant an extra helping of assorted hangers-on. Seraph had gone early, which didn't really surprise anyone as it was common knowledge that she was on the lookout for a new horse. But not seeing Cala made him wonder. She wasn't normally the type to rush off as soon as the Sun rose. "Zenia!" Butterfly carolled, seeing her across the courtyard. She waited for him to catch up, looking oddly uncomfortable; and suddenly he regretted being so cheerful. Zenia puzzled him - sometimes she'd be almost chatty, as if she actually wanted to be his friend, then almost as if she'd suddenly remembered why she couldn't be, a curtain would come down and she'd go all cold, pushing him away. "Hi." "Hey, it's Market Day today, you want to come into Oracle City with me? You haven't had a look around yet, have you?" "No." "I can show you round, I know it pretty well. Plus Market Days are always fun." Zenia hesitated. "No thanks," she said at last, not meeting his eye. "I don't feel so good this morning." It wasn't the best lie ever told, and both knew it; but Butterfly mentally shrugged, deciding that if she didn't want to go into town, that was her business. "Hope you feel better, then," he said, and trotted out of the gate in slightly less elevated spirits. It wasn't long before he was bouncy again, though. Market Day was all he'd hoped for - and being his first day at liberty in Oracle City this year, naturally he had to explore, to see what'd changed while he hadn't been looking. He recognised a couple of Academie students, waved to them, and almost walked into Zenia who was examining a selection of silver jewellery. There was the kind of awkward silence that was more or less compulsory at this kind of occasion, before Butterfly broke it. "Got better quickly." "I- yes. I felt better once I'd had some breakfast." "Wow, that was the second worst lie I've ever heard." He grinned humourlessly. "You could just have said that you didn't want to come with me, you know. Oh well. Nevermind. I guess having friends isn't to everyone's taste, is it?" Before she could answer, he'd walked away humming in the general direction of the docks; half hoping she'd call him back, half hoping she wouldn't, all hoping she'd feel really bad about it, and not entirely certain why. Back home in Thana, he'd had a friend a couple of years older than himself, who'd already embarked upon the 'awkward-obsession-with-girls' stage of his life. Every couple of months this friend would declare himself a mysogynist, through with women, say he never wanted to see one ever again. Of course that never lasted, but Butterfly could see his point. "Butterfly?" He glanced up, heart leaping; it sank again when he realised this was Cala, not Zenia of the Infuriating Ways. In her disguise of blandness it took a moment to recognise her. "Yeah?" "This isn't the nicest area, what're you doing?" "I," he replied with dignity, "was exploring. Whereas you were doing...?" "...private business." Butterfly smiled, the pieces falling into neat place in his mind. "Well, yes, naturally." "What do you mean?" Cala seemed edgy, on guard; not her normal laid-back self. "Well, when a new student randomly goes missing - after reliable rumour has it that he was told not to stay - and then Benjiro's favourite little strategist is sneaking around in disguise looking very worried..." he could have laughed at her expression, "I suspect a conspiracy. What's going on?" Cala muttered something under her breath. "You're too observant," she snapped. "So go and observe something that isn't so dangerous, okay?" Butterfly even managed to momentarily forget Zenia. His eyes shone. "I smell adventure! Let me guess... we think Arrluk's been stolen, yes?" "Yes, if you must. But please don't try anything." She sighed. "This is real trouble, not some children's adventure-story." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Cala realised she'd said the wrong thing. Butterfly's face froze over. "I also grew up in Thana, you know. I haven't been a child for quite a while. Maybe I'm not as good as you at avoiding trouble but I can endure it. And now I'm curious. Do as thou wilt, Cala, but I'm going to find Arrluk." "Yes, and then? You'll stage a heroic rescue?" Butterfly shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "I won't know until I try." |
Arrluk rolled over on his side, a difficult proposition in the ship's hammocks, but necessary as his stomah seemed determined to climb its way up his throat. He shivered, blinking bleary, gritty eyes. His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and he gasped for breath in the dry air. His head didn't seem to beworking too well and the movement of the ship only seemed to increase the queasiness in his stomach, rather than the comfort it'd always been. The pounding in his head made it hard to think. He doubled in two again as his stomach twisted again. He could now make out the smell of salt pork and beer, a sour smell that made his eyes water. His ears kicked in, too, telling him there was a bad storn whistling by just outside. Certainly, he was cold enough and the ship was bucking around like never before. Wait a moment, what was going on here? Didn't he get off? His wooly mind tried to piece together the events of the past few days. Arrluk clenched his teeth, his body clenched against the agony that would drive him unconscious again. A sudden jolt of the ship tossed everything to portside, Arrluk rolling unceremoniously from the hammock, hitting the planking and slamming into a couple barrels of saltpork. He yelped in pain, curling to protect himself. As he started to slide back to starboard with the next motion of the ship, Arrluk grabbed hold of the rope tied around the beer casks and held on. After a minute or so, he was able to scramble to his knees, then to his feet. His brain still wasn't making any sense, but his eyes told him he was in serious trouble. The storeroom he was in (for why he was in there completely elluded him) was mostly dark, the objects only slightly darker blurs in the gloom. The waves outside crashed mercilessly against the hull, the whine of the wind drowning out any of the voices he should be hearing shouting directions. The ship heeled back over to port, listing dangerously before miraculously righting itself. The room with the food, Arrluk knew, should be under lock and key and the watchful eyes of the steward, but Arrluk didn't see anyone other than himself, which did not sit well in his throbbing head. As Arrluk scrambled toward where the door should be, the ship pitched aft and then forward abruptly, propelling Arrluk against more beer casks with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. He gasped painfully for breath, all the while struggling to keep from sliding back along the deck. At long last, eyes watering, Arrluk reached the steps up to the door. He held on to them desperately, hoping against hope that the top half of the door was open, or at least not barred, but half-knowing that it wouldn't be. Sure enough, when he managed to climb back up to his feet, the doors were closed tightly and when he jiggled the latch, it was barred. Arrluk shivered, cold clear through, but sweat popped out on his forehead anyway. He breathed quicker, fighting down the panic which threatened to overwhelm him. He was scared, no use denying that; more frightened than he'd ever been in his life. If he didn't get out of there soon, he might die, trapped in the bowels of a ship he should never have stepped aboard in the first place. Strange how, when the end came, time seemed to slow down. The ship keeled over to starbord side and forward, sending Arrluk tumbling into the goods. Planking burst somewhere above him and he was suddenly drenched as well as cold. He thought of Qannik, trapped at that school and sent a brief wish that she'd be okay, before wrapping his hands into the ropes of the closest barrels and clinging to them like a leech as the ship continued to roll onto its side, to lie at last belly-up and heading unerringly towards the rocky coast. * * * Qannik felt completely bewildered and lost in the strange, new place of the Academy. The other kids talked too fast for her to really get more than the gist of what they said, and when the adults asked her a question, everyone stared at her and she lost her nerve - as well as whatever was in her head to say. She couldn't seem to make her mouth work. What was in her head to say never seemed to make its way to her tongue. She could only duck her head in embarrassment, wishing she could sink into the floor or be invisible. Only the older girl Seraph seemed inclinded to be friendly, sending her a smile whenever they passed in the halls. Halls! Now that was another unfamiliar concept. She'd never been inside a building before that was large enough for multiple rooms. She spent the first couple of days wandering the halls, determined to figure out her way around. She had a good memory, she was thankful for that, and spent a good many hours just walking the hallways and grounds of the Academy, memorizing the layout. She couldn't read her schedule and was simply glad to run into her first class by accident the first day. Why did one have to beat up other people to show how strong one was? Granted, they wrestled back home, but their games were for the fun of it. Qannik was very good at the ball games, the one arm reach, where you balance on two hands and then use one to touch a suspended ball, the two and one-foot kicks, where you jump and kick at a suspended ball. Arrluk had been very good at the seal games, where you had to mimic a seal's movements, and the one where you and your opponent sat facing each other, feet against feet, grasped a stick placed equally between them, and then tried to pulle the opponent toward you. This was to simulate pulling a seal out of the water. All this punching and kicking as if at another person was completely foreign to Qannik and she felt out of place and awkward as she tried to mimic what the others were doing. But at least that first day she was able to follow the others around to their classes. She'd decided to follow different people each day of the first week, as they all seemed to go off in different directions at particular times of the day. She liked the music class, the history classes, for the professors both seemed very likeable, but she had a hard time understanding what was said. She did know that she'd decided on attending the language class, just not with the large class. They were completely beyond her. Maybe, if she could pluck up the courage, she'd approach Professor Gamble and ask for private lessons, but she was too scared of the woman to more than mumble "Hi," and change directions to head somewhere else. The music class also drew her, like a moth to flame, each of the instruments far different from the simple pipes and drums she knew. The unique sounds were so intriguing! She especially liked the horizontal pipe that a few of the older girls played, and the funny-looking thing that she'd heard was called a bagpipe, an appropriate name for the crazy thing. But at last it was the weekend! Market day, as the other kids called it. She was able to eat at the tables in the great hall without feeling as if every eye in the room was on her. In fact, most of the kids took off as soon as it grew light outside. That was somemething else that was strange, sunlight during the winter. The sun rose and set at the same time every day! After breakfast, Qannik headed out to wander the Academy grounds, freely wandering and packing her lunch to eat outdoors. She climbed trees and jumped a small creek, playfully pretending she was back home, tracking and watching several different forms of animal life. One, a smaller version of a caribou, without the antlers, another tiny, pig-like critter covered in sharp spines, and the various birds. Qannik even went for a swim in a lake she'd found. But as the sun began to set, Qannik made her way back up to the school. Dirty and tired, but in a contented way. She felt calm and relaxed, a far cry from the semi-panicy and crazy world of the past week. She grabbed a quick dinner out of the kitchen and carried it to her room. After a wash, she settled in her bed to read one of the Kulsanni books she'd nicked from the book room. She frowned with concentration at the awful words, sounding out each one with difficulty and a lot of help from the "dictionary" Arrluk had made for her on the trip there. But after a while, she became aware of a strange sound from somewhere across the hall. Before long, she found herself creeping down the dark hallway in her nightshirt, listening intently. It was Seraph, playing one of those horizontal pipes! Qannik watched, fascinated, as the other girl switched from the pipe to the drums. Drums were something Qannik knew well, had been carefully taught during her apprentice-ship, but which was completely unlike the instrument Seraph played so enchantingly. The rolls and beats made Qannik sigh in pleasure. She caught her breath. Seraph was staring at her! "Hi, Qannik!" said Seraph, her hands not pausing in the slightest. "Hi," Qannik said back, feeling heat creep into her face. She felt guilty for staring uninvited and quickly made her way back to her room. But the book held little attraction for her now and she settled back down in the dark, falling asleep to the sound of the drum. She woke, instantly, gasping for breath, and bathed in a cold sweat. She shivered intensely, grabbing her knees to try and warm up and stop her trembling. For an instant, the room around her seemed overshadowed by another, a smaller place, stacked high with crates and barrels, and one which rocked unsteadily, making her stomach churn uncomfortably. Then, she heard a great "CR-A-CK!" sound and was instantly freezing cold and wet. She screamed in surprise and fear, and jerked over sideways, off the bed, smacking her head on the bedside table and losing consciousness. |
| Zenia watched Butterfly walk away her cheeks stinging from embaressment and shame. 'Stop it,' she told herself silently, he doesn't matter, why should I care about a stupid boy who won't leave me alone... whom I don't want to leave me alone. However hard she tried she couldn't push the thoughts away. Sighing she turned back to the jewellry but it didn't really hold much interest for her anymore. Grabbing her bag she turned and ran. She didn't really know how far she ran, she only vaguely noticed where she was going as the landscape flashed by. It was only when the sun started to set that she turned, blood pumping fast, back to the academy. She didn't stop until even when she was in the building but just went barrowing through it, flinging open doors and pounding down corridors. Finally she reached her own room and dashed inside, throwing herself down on the bed. "Where the heck have you been?" asked Sassy then stopped as muffled sobs wracked the girl's body, "Zenia? What's wrong?" Zenia didn't look up, "It's not fair Sas, it's just not fair, why does it always have to be like this?" Sassy curled herself around Zenia's weeping form, " Zen, maybe it'll be different this time, maybe he won't leave you." "You know that's never going to happen, it's impossible. All my life I've had to leave or they've left me. I can't have proper friends and I hate it. But I'm not going to show weakness, I'm not going to give them a chance to hurt me because I know they will." "Zen," whispered Sas, "Zen, calm down." Zenia couldn't seem to stop the seemingly never ending flow of tears but finally the two fell into a deep sleep. A shadow then detached itself from where he had been crouching outside the door and crept quietly away. He had not meant to over hear but was glad he had. That answered a lot of questions about Zenia - but who had she been talking too? |
"Gosh, King! No one here seems to care what I say or do. I've tried so many things like skipping and bad-mouthing, but I haven't got in an ounce of trouble. How am I supposed to get kicked out of here if no one pays attention to me?" Jo mused to King from the comforts of her bed. "Hmmm...Let's look at his handbook thing to see what other rules I can break." Jo opened her handbook and began to read. Feeling furstrated she threw it across the room, startling King. "There's nothing in that stupid thang! I've got to figure out some way to get out of this place!" she yelled. Jo rolled over on her stomach and cried into her pillow, "I want to leave. I can't go home, but I want out of here. I have to find a way." Just then a knock on her door and King's bark, brought her back to reality. "Come in!" she hollered. The door opened and Adam walked in. "Hey, umm, everyone's gone to Market Day in the city and I saw that you were still here, so I was wondering if maybe we could walk out there together. You don't have to stay with me when we get there, but maybe you'd like to just let me walk you over there." He was nervous and rambling. Jo smilied at him. "Sure. Just let me change clothes real quick. I'll meet you downstairs in the lobby in 5 minutes. OK?" she answered. Adam nodded and headed back out the door, closing the door behind him. Jo quickly changed into her black baggy pants, a white tank top, and black ballet shoes. She grabbed her cloak on the way out and ran down the stairs to meet Adam. Maybe today wouldn't be such a bad day after all? |
| Adam shook his head at himself, intensely pleased that Jo had agreed to walk with him down to the Market. He hadn't had a friend since, Adam paused to think but couldn't recall anyone he had ever really considered a true friend. No one that he could trust, he had loved the monks at the monestary, but he could not trust them at all, for obvious reasons. Adam's twin brother had died so long ago that he couldn't even remember what he looked like, except that he must have looked like Adam. He sat on a bench in the courtyard and waited for Jo to change into some different clothes. Adam hoped that she wouldn't take too long he had some things that he would like to buy at the Market Place, and perhaps some information as well. "Hey Adam, you wanta go?" Jo asked as she came up behind him. He stood up to show his readiness and gawked at the amount of skin she had contrived to show off. "Come on then, I don't think I've ever had a fun time and I want to today!" Adam said with a smile and grabbed for Jo's hand to drag her down the road. Except that they ended up racing down the hill, Jo won. "Do you have something that you want to buy?" Adam asked politely while Jo tried to get her breath back as she leaned against a stall. "I wanted to get some boots ordered and some fencing equipment, mine is all entirely outdated." *************************************** Adam and Jo spent the day together and then went in search of an inn to take their evening meal together, now |
| Rick was wandering around the market place. Taking a look at a lot of different items, clothing. He bought a few pretty pendants which he really liked the look of but he made his mind up then and there that if he wanted clothing he would ask his parents to send some alone. Sorting through the clothes that he thought were completely repugnent and felt the bottom of the box that they were inside. Looking around even those on hangers weren't really that much better. He had come and studied his best but had hoped that by going down to the market place maybe someone would talk to him, someone would want to say something..anything to him..maybe he wasn't worth it. He thought. Wandering around by himself wasn't too much fun so he decided to head back to his dorm. |
| The day of Sunday September first began for Seraphine Ben Ami at six o clock in the morning, when she woke with a revelation. Today was her fourteenth birthday. And none of the people she wanted to make friends with even knew about it. The situation required some action on her part. She bounced out of bed, and since it was the weekend, and her birthday, threw on her prettiest dress that she had brought from home. The soft, finely woven cloth had been made from a mix of black and white wool, giving it a beautiful grey color. Onto the collar, hem and sleeves, her mother had sewn handmade lace, pure white and delicate. Seraphine felt like a princess when she wore it- fitting, since in a way she was. She rarely thought about it now that she was away from home, but her position as the daughter of the Chieftain of the Yeshaia conferred her with a certain importance. The Yeshaia numbered more than twenty thousand, all told, and her family headed the entire group. She wrapped a white cloth sash around her waist to finish the outfit, then threw on shoes and socks. With a quick thought, she grabbed the cloth sling that she had made the day before and took off out of her room. She heard grumbles as her running woke people up, but she laughed and ignored them, sliding down the banister and flying out the door. First, she stopped in the kitchen. Breakfast was just getting started, as the students usually slept in later on the weekends. The cook, Talmas, was a red, cheery man of great talent and greater spirits. As soon as he saw the determined girl, he burst into a giant grin. “Why, if it isn’t the birthday girl! What are you doing up so early on your special day?” “Making sure it’s special.” Replied Seraph simply, giving her friend a hug. “I want to have a party, and invite people to celebrate with me, so I was wondering, if you had time, that is, if you would make some special treats for it.” Talmas nodded energetically. “Of course, of course! We will need a giant cake; what is your favorite kind again? Oh yes, the rich chocolate. And we will need ice cream and then some little sandwiches, and some of my potato chips. Don’t you worry, Seraphine, darling, I will take care of everything. Now get out! I must work!” and Seraph found herself shooed out of the kitchen. With a happy grin, she went to check on her new pets. The barn was quiet, the animals slowly waking up, and seraph whistled a few happy notes as she walked inside. A few long, sleek faces peered out of their stalls, but not Gevira. It would take a while before she came to associate the whistle with her small mistress. Coming to the stall, Seraphine began to talk in Yeshaian. “Tov Hallad, Gevir-y.” She said, smiling. “good morning, my lady. How are you this morning?” The sweet tempered Gevira blinked her long eyelashes and walked forward till her nose was against Seraph’s dress, causing the girl to grin and stroke the smooth grey cheeks. “good thing you’re the color you are. Your hair won’t show up on my dress!” Seraph looked to the corner of the stall. Kofer, who had been looking at her curiously, dropped his eyes, then looked at her out of the corner of his vision, as if it was more subtle. His increadibly large ears were flattened to his head, and he whined slightly. Seraph turned and walked to the storage lean to, and got some of the dog food Madea kept there. She went back to Gevira’s stall, went in, and set the food down in front of the bony hound. His nose twitched convulsively, but he refused to get up and eat while she was there. With a sigh, she snapped a lead on Gevira’s halter, and took her out of the stall. By the time she had finished giving the grey beauty a good grooming, the food had disappeared. She cleaned out the stall, made sure Kofer had water, then made him a little bed by taking the cloth she had bought and spreading it over a nest of hay. She picked up the little dog, who merely held himself as still and tense as a stone, and set him in it before saddling Gevira and heading off into town. The ride was a pleasure like she had not had in a long time. The day was cool, but comfortably so, and the sky was full of huge, fluffy clouds. Gevira was eager to go, and seraph let her proceed at a fast trot into town. Going directly to Harolde’s Curiosity Shoppe, she tied Gevira to a standing post and went inside. “Harolde, are you here?” she called as she pushed the bead curtain out of the way. “It’s Seraph.” From around a pile of boxes, a very short, stubby man appeared, a finger to the thick spectacles on his very large nose, and a mouse in his hair. “Seraph? I didn’t know that Angels were in the habit of visiting curiosity shops.” Seraph groaned. “That joke is so OLD Harolde!” The strange little man chuckled, disturbing the mouse, who scurried down his shoulder and off into a shadowed corner. “I guess Belvidere thought it was old too.” Quipped Harolde, watching the brown shape disappear. He turned to the waiting Seraphine and looked at her sharply. “Now, child, how can I help you?” Seraph walked over and, leaning on the dusty, cluttered counter, explained her situation. “I need small trinkets for party presents. They’re for boys and girls, from thirteen to eighteen.” Within moments the counter was covered with little toys, tiny puzzles, handcrafted figurines, small carvings, miniscule paintings, and various other curiosities such as Harolde specialized in. Seraphine picked one up, a small soapstone elephant with its trunk raised, and smiled. “Perfect. How much do I owe you?” “a silver bit.” Replied the little man, as he picked up the small toys and began placing in the bag, pointedly avoiding Seraph’s sharp gaze. “Harolde, that’s less than half what these are worth!” The normally shrewd business man shrugged. “It’s your birthday.” He said in explanation. Seraph rolled her eyes, but smiled and paid him the amount. Instead of riding directly back to the school, Seraph took a detour that lead her to Sage Goodman’s cabin beside it. His two youngest sons, Leaf and Shrike, were playing in the front yard. When they saw Seraph, they waved, and Shrike ran inside. Seraph dismounted, and Leaf walked to meet her. “Hi Seraph!” he said cheerily. The eleven year old was a twin of his father, and quite mature for his age. “Happy birthday!” “thanks Leaf.” She returned with a smile. “Shrike went in to tell Da and Mum that you’re here. Say, is that your horse? She’s a beauty!” Leaf and Gevira commenced making friends, while Seraph walked over to the vine covered cottage. In the summers, morning glories and honey suckle climbed there as well, but even without the colorful blooms, the building was pretty and homelike. Seraph entered it, long having outlived the need to knock. Meadow, Sage’s sturdy, wholesome faced wife, was sitting at the table with the youngest in the family, the curly pated Honeybee, who was howling at having those same golden curls brushed. They both looked up as Seraph entered, Meadow with a smile, and Honey with a hopeful look. “Down now mum?” asked the little four-year-old pitifully. Meadow sighed, and with a few final tugs at a knotty lock, released the unhappy child. “Go on then.” Honey rushed over and flung herself at Seraph, who swept her up into a hug, then settled her on a narrow hip. “You’re getting awful big, Honeybee!” “You too, seraph!” the tiny mite returned generously, with a kiss to punctuate the statement. “Happy birthday Seraphine.” Meadow put in, walking over to give the thin shoulders a gentle hug. “It’s good to see you. How is school going?” Seraphine, sitting down on a solid wooden chair and settling Honeybee on her lap, told the sympathetic Meadow of her difficulty in making friends. “I just can’t get up the courage to talk to any of them. Qannik doesn’t count, because she’s scareder than me. But today is my birthday, so I’m turning over a new leaf and throwing a party. I want to invite all of the firsters, along with my class and a few others, so that I can get to know them all better. Do you think sage would let me borrow one of the big classrooms to hold the party in?” “Sage will do one better and let you host the party in the dorm common room.” Replied a deep, amused voice from behind her. Seraphine turned in her seat and beamed at Sage, who was standing in the door to the kitchen. “Hi Sage!” she cried happily. The headmaster walked over and placed a kiss on the black head. “Hello, birthday girl. I hear you’re planning a party. Good idea. Don’t forget to invite your teachers, they would want to come.” “Alright.” Seraph replied. “You and Meadow should come too, and bring Shrike Leaf and Honey.” Sage agreed, and Seraphine said a hurried goodbye, going off to ready the common room. Sage and Meadow watched the small woman stride confidently out of the cottage, smiling proudly. “She certainly has grown up.” mused Sage, picking up Honey and setting her on his lap. Meadow nodded, then looked at her husband. “She loves you to death, Sage, you can see it in her face.” The man nodded. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you. She’s done so well, and is trying so hard. Besides, she’s adorable.” He finished, watching the dark little figure ride off elegantly on the grey mare. Meadow laughed. “I’m not sure she would appreciate that assessment, but you’re right.” The common room was ready. Seraph had strung up crepe paper in blue, pale green and yellow, set up chairs along its edge, and prepared an open space for dancing and music. a table was ready with the food Talmas had prepared, the party gifts had been wrapped, and the teachers and students had been invited. All Seraphine could do now was wait. People then began arriving. Many of the students were busy, but the thirders came bearing a present, as the group was very close after three years and Seraph was their mascot, of a sort. Of the segunders, Seraph’s friend Halley came with a haphazardly wrapped gift, an exuberant hug, and her Lyre. Of the uppers, two showed up; Cala, with a slight smile and nod, and the handsome Dune, with a wink, a kiss, and a tall drum. Both brought small packages as well. Quite a few teachers showed up as well. The Ab’eh came with his concertina and birthday blessings, Professor Gamble with wise words and a twinkle in her pale blue eyes. The Goodmans came with a chorus of greetings and hugs, and Professor Benjiro arrived with no stir at all, simply bowing and extending his congratulations. Rishi came, but didn’t say anything to avoid the stutter. He gave seraph a big hug instead. Madea and Kai also came with affectionate greetings. All of them, to Seraph’s surprise, brought gifts. Most important to Seraph, however, was the fact that the firsters came too, one by one, until they had all arrived. Okay, can we have the next entries be at the party, guys? I want to know what your characters did there, and how they interacted with seraph. It’s always so much fun to see where you take the story! Enjoy the food, the music the company! |
| Her eyes felt gritty and tired and she was surprised, when she caught her reflection in a mirror she was surprised that she didn’t see dark circles under her eyes. There was already a large stack of paper making up her report to Benjiro on her desk and it was only bound to grow larger. Part of her was itching to finish it, but the other part of her was glad she was here. She couldn’t miss Seraph’s birthday. She smiled softly to herself as she sat against a back wall slowly sipping some sort of fruity drink from a small silver cup. Seraph was a sweet girl, a little intense at times, but sweet. Cala was glad to see that she was coming out of her shell a bit to make some friends. She needed some. Cala had tried to do her best for Seraph, and wished she could have been there more, but schedules collided and life never worked out. Now, Seraph looked flushed, and a little nervous as people came up to talk to her. Her stomach growled suddenly and Cala remembered she had barely eaten since her expedition on market day. Before she could get up, however, a plate of food appeared in front of her eyes. “So you actually exist outside of class,” a jovial voice said, “I have to admit I’ve had my doubts.” Cala looked up into Dune’s very blue eyes and shook her head. Dune…he’s specializing in the quarter staff in Benjiro’s class. He’s not too bad with it…there’s something else he’s good with… “I’m not existing now,” she said with a grin, “I’m simply a figment of your imagination.” “Well this figment looks like hell…” “Oh, thanks.” “So eat some, really, our Seraph has excellent taste in food.” He pushed the plate at her again and Cala took a small sandwich to appease him. Looking around the room again, she watched the students interact. Most of them she knew. It was a small school and she always made the effort to learn names and nod at people when she passed them, even if she did spend most of her time hidden away training or working on an ancient battle map. She knew the first years, only from beginning to train them in Benjiro’s class. There was Adam, and Jo…who if she were late again, Cala didn’t want to see Benjiro’s reaction…and she thought she caught a glimpse of little Qannik. I wonder how she’s doing…does she know about her brother? They were very close…But that may not have even been her I saw, she is very shy still. “I wonder what their destiny’s are?” Dune commented, following her gaze. “Destiny,” Cala murmured, only half aware of her words, “I don’t believe in destiny…or fate. How is it someone’s destiny to die a horrible and terrible death? What is the destiny of the small babe that was killed as soon as it is born? No, there is no such thing as destiny, only the choices we make. The stars may show warnings and portents of things that are set in motion, but we can still change the course of the future. The belief in destiny acts as an excuse and leaves no room for accountability.” Cala was barely aware she had spoken her words aloud and they were biting and strong. She closed her mouth suddenly but didn’t expect her words to make much of an impression on Dune. “That is a dangerous thing to say…at this school,” he said lowly, surprising Cala. “Now I can see why you were banned from taking philosophy.” “How did you know about that?” she asked sharply. He shrugged. “Small school. Word gets around.” Cala grunted then unfolded herself gracefully from her sitting position on the floor. Dune was making her decidedly uncomfortable. “Well I’m going to say a few words to the birthday girl and get back to work. See you in class.” She threaded her way through the students to give Seraph a small peck on the cheek. “Great party, lass, everything looks beautiful.” “You’re not leaving are you?” “I’m afraid I must, have an extra piece of cake for me, yeah?” |
| **I am lazy, so here're Butterfly's choice classes: Philosophy/Theology & World history** Butterfly arrived a little after the rest of the thirders, out of breath from running, ink smudges on his hands and face, hair in a messier-than-usual half-ponytail, carrying a sheet of thick, rolled-up paper. Smiling greetings at the people he passed, he wormed his way to the middle of the cheer-crowded room to where Seraph was standing, chatting with her friend Halley. He grinned at her, announced 'Happy birthday!' and bowed, holding the rolled-up paper out in both hands. "I would have tied it with ribbon, but I didn't have any," he said, once she'd taken it and begun undoing the scrap of frayed string holding it shut. "That's fine, Butterfly. I'm glad you- oh." Seraph unrolled the paper, silent, her eyes gleaming with delight. "That's wonderful!" He'd painted her, a casual portrait; from the looks of it he'd been lurking in the temple when she'd ridden out on Gevira this morning, and had managed to capture her happiness and the horse's bouncy joy in various shades of black ink. "I'm sure you made me look prettier than I really do." "Well, yeah, I'm not that good. I mean of course not Seraphine you are gorgeous it was my pleasure to be permitted to hold a brush to your beauty... that cake is begging me to eat it, by the way." Seraph laughed. "Go on then, don't keep it in suspense. And thank you." "You're welcome," he mumbled, distracted already by a glimpse of tattoo and defensively folded arms across the room; possibly the one thing in here that could call to him louder than the cake. Butterfly hesitated - she hadn't seen him, there was still time to pretend he hadn't noticed her either. Thankfully, he was saved from the decision by Cala. "You're not leaving are you?" Seraph was asking her. "I'm afraid I must," she replied. "Have an extra piece of cake for me, yeah?" Butterfly cut a second slice and elbowed his way out after Cala. He caught her up just outside the door, and passed her the cake. "Have it yourself." "Huh? Oh, hi." Cala took the cake, with a slight suspicious frown. "Found Arrluk yet?" He asked innocently, his grin hidden by the gloriously rich chocolate cake. "...no, I haven't, thank you for asking." "Found anything yet?" "Actually, nothing of much interest, because I'm not looking for Arrluk. Have you?" "Storm," Butterfly said around the cake. "Whether your Selkie was real or not he was right. Last night there was a mother of a storm. If Arrluk's ship had already gone then it's lucky to still be floating." "What- how do you know about the Selkie story?" "I get around." He shrugged, crammed the last bit of cake into his mouth. "So... are you going to go back and poke around some more?" Cala blinked, and laughed at him. "Butterfly, even if I was, you wouldn't know. Anyway, this work is mine to worry about. Go and enjoy the party." He turned back, frowning. "And thank you for the cake." "You're welcome." Butterfly took a deep breath, shook his head to clear away the stupid apprehension - why was he worried? Zenia was just a person, after all, he wasn't scared of people - and pushed his way back into the party. |
Qannik came to herself with a raging headache and no clear memory of how she came to be laying on the floor. She had lingering impressions of water, but that could be because it was raining. She could hear the rain pattering on the roof, even though she didn't have a window in her room. Still, she was dressed, so she climbed rather shakily to her feet, grabbed some things, and staggered off towards the communal bathroom. There, she let the water run off her until it became cold. For once, having hot water at the touch of a lever failed to awe her. She washed her face carefully, noting the bruise in the mirror with dismay, brushed her teeth, and headed back to bed. But Qannik couldn't sleep. She stared up at the ceiling, listening to the water clock and wondering at her uneasiness. Mog-ur had taught her to pay attention to what he called her sixth sense, for it was through that silent voice that she would be able to hear the Spirits talking, guiding her decisions. This night, however, Qannik couldn't quiet her mind enough to hear whatever the Spirits might have been trying to tell her. Eventually, though, she was able to doze, off-and-on, but she was still up at the crack of dawn, hoping that a mug of tea would chase away the fog. She nursed her tea for almost an hour, staring out the hall's tall windows. She felt, rather than saw, Seraph enter. Her happy and excited atitude shone from her like a great light, and for a moment, Qannik felt irritated, but also rather envious of her unburdened joy. Seraph left quickly and Qannik felt even more out of sorts. She went outdoors, too, but away from the stables, found herself a leafy tree that wasn't too wet, and curled herself on a branch, her back to the trunk. It was there, hidden from the others, that Qannik allowed herself to weep, as she hadn't done since her first night. The day proved to be beautiful, which only increased Qannik's despair. She was homesick and scared, but most of all, lonely for her brother. He'd always been there, watching over her, even when she'd believed she could take care of herself. He was a familiar, smiling face, willing to give her her space, but also willing to sit nearby in silent company. She'd learnt to hunt, just so she could be with him and had been decimated to learn that Mog-ur only wanted her as his apprentice, instead of them both. However deep the gloom, the gloriously beautiful day had chased away most of Qannik's depression by the time her stomach rumbled in mid-afternoon. Slowly, she eased out of the tree and went in search of food. The whole school was in an uproar when she entered, though. The air of excitement slammed into Qannik the moment she entered the main doors. Curious, she walked herself into the kitchen, the source of a great deal of the noise and commotion, to see one of the cooks standing next to a five-tiered cake and gesturing with a spatula at a horrified cook-assistant, holding a torn sack, who'd managed to shower most of the counter and floor with a white, powdery substance that tasted sweet. Qannik sneezed as she breathed in the powdery dust-clouds. Instantly, the cook rounded on her and his anger pinned her to the wall. She cringed and ran for it, not heeding the apology or the calls to return. She ran blindly, not stopping until she reached the library - the very back by the huge, over-stuffed recliner, in the darkest corner. There, she crouched in the dark and waited for her heartrate to return to normal. Having the willies scared out of her had at least improved her temper and she almost laughed at the scene in the kitchen, both men covered in powder and shouting. Hmm. Qannik frowned. She'd recognized a few words in the cook's tirade, one of them "cake," another one "birthday," and he'd said "Seraph." She frowned, more thoughtfully this time. A cake on a birthday sounded like some kind of celebration, and he'd said Seraph, like she was the recipient, and that kind of made a sort of sense to Qannik. They celebrated Name Days back at the tip of the world, the day that the tribe officially presented a baby to the Spirits. They were small, quiet affairs, attended by only family or close friends, and there was a ritual gift-giving to the person whose anniversary it was. This seemed similar; the cook, well, cooked as his gift, apparently. Hmmm, what could Qannik do? She didn't have any particular talents, couldn't sing or sew or carve or -- draw! Draw, that's what she'd do! But what? With what? She'd used up most of her supplies on the trip. Hmm, maybe Seraph would like one of those? Filled with a sense of purpose now, Qannik headed back to her room. She went through her rolls of images carefully, picking out a drawing she'd spent the time to color in, one of the black and white whales Arrluk was named for. Qannik remembered that day vividly and was sorry to part with the picture, but knew that she could give nothing less. With the roll of thin hide under her arm, Qannik went in search of the right kind of tree branch, one that was thin enough and supple enough, but long enough to bend into a frame. She bent and tied her chosen branch while holding it in the stream. Her numb fingers struggled to tie the cord, but she'd often used much cooler streams and was soon using more of her cord to attach the drawing to its frame. She looked at it with some small satisfaction curling up the corners of her mouth. She'd painted her orca as it had leaped from the water, glistening in the sunlight. The fins of the rest of the pod lurked in the background, and the swells that day had been particularly beautiful, with their white crests lapping gently at the ship's keel. Qannik raced back to the Academy as dusk began, hurrying into some clean clothes and wrapping her gift with some of the thick, brown paper her books had been wrapped in. She only had to follow the noise and cheer to find the party, halting on the threshold as if she'd run into the door rather than held it open. The tumult and crowd almost caused her to retreat then and there, but other students behind her pushed by and Qannik stood by the wall uncomfortably. The volume was deafening but after a few, long minutes, Qannik could almost distinguish distinct voices in the cacophony. The food drew her on, however, and she sidled against the wall, avoiding the other students as much as possible. She actually ducked beneath the tablecloth to eat, giving herself a few minutes' peace. She couldn't at first coax herself out from beneath the table, though. Her present lay wrapped and forgotten, propped against a table leg, and her full stomach made Qannik drowsy. Her sleepless night and awful day had taken their toll and, despite the noise, Qannik soon drifted off to sleep. |
Jo woke up the morning after Market Day smiling. She had had a wonderful time with Adam. They had had dinner at this cute little inn and then spent the walk back to the school in laughter over nothing in perculiar. It was great, in her opinon. Jo had slept in and as she crawled out of bed and headed to feed King, she noticed a piece of colored paper under her door. "You are Invited!" It read. It was an invitation to Seraph's birthday party. Yay! A party! Jo couldn't wait. Because she had slept in, Jo had to hurry to get ready. "Hmm...what should I get her as a present?" she asked herself. "I know!" She went to her closet and found a pale blue skirt that was too small for her but she wore it every once in awhile anyway. "With a little adjustments, Seraph will look great in this. The skirt was finished almost perciesly at the time the party started. Jo found a small box and wrapped her present. She changed into her brown skirt almost like one Zenia would wear but with more flare. She topped it off with a deep blue tank top and sandals. Jo arrived at the party fashionably late, as always. She looked for Seraph and found her in front of the cake table with Butterfly and Hailey. "Happy Birthday, Seraph!" she said as she handed her the wrapped box. Seraph opened the box and pulled out the skirt Jo decorated with some left over beads and sequins and the matching necklace Jo had bought at Market Day. "I love them, Jo!" Seraph exclaimed as she gave Jo a big hug. "Thank you." "Thank you and I'm glad you like them," Jo answered, feeling a little uncomfortable but enjoying it all the same. "You did a great job with this party, Seraph. Everyone's having a blast." "Thanks. I'm glad everyone's having a great time. But no one's dancing," Seraph responded. A sly smile appeared on Jo's face. "Get ready to grab a guy and we'll change that real quick," Jo answered as she turned and headed in Adam's direction. |
| Adam got dressed in a hurry, pulling on his under-padding with haste and washing his face in cold water. He had spent too much time with his new-friend lately and was tired. Which reminded him, he had been growing again and would need to sew new under-things, as soon as he could find the time. Then Artemis flew into the room, giving out a raucous noise as he landed on the bed. His talons held the softest of little bundles and Adam went to it immediately. He desperately needed a box to put the small one in. Adam returned to the room and whistled a small melody indicating that Artemis was to lower the small creature into the box. He covered the lid, recently puntcured with ventilation holes and looked Artemis over to reassure himself that his old friend had come to no harm on this mission. He pulled a bow into place over the box and straightened the expensive outfit that Jo had helped him pick out at the market. It fit well, and needed just one more touch. Artemis flew to his shoulder without being called for and Adam left to head to the party. There were plenty of people at the party, and Adam suddenly felt vey shy. He placed the box in a corner of presents were it would be protected and then straightened to find some food. His eyes ranged around the room and suddenly locked with Jo's sparking green eyes. He was happy to see his friend here, until she told him that they were going to dance. Artemis abandoned him and Jo pulled Adam out towards the centre of the room. The music was lively and somehow Adam kept from making a complete fool of himself. He even tried his best not to step on Jo's toes, but he was fairly certain that he had done it at least twice. All told, everything was going just fine, until some of the servants took a detour right behind him with a large punch bowl. He and Jo were instantly soaked, but what was worse was the noise of little fibers snapping. Adam cast a panicked look around and fled the room. Praying that the showers would be deserted with everyone at the party he headed there, holding his shirt on. He turned on some water and grabbed a towel, letting the shirt sag off of his frame. The padding had completely fallen to pieces beneath and Adam was left in his undershirt. Adam stared at himself and began to cry. He couldn't keep the secret anymore, he just couldn't. Adam put his head in his hands and softly began to cry, and talk to himself in a mournful voice that he never let anyone hear. "Adam, why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me here alone? Why couldn't you have stayed? I needed you, mom and dad just couldn't keep me anymore after you left us. They dressed me in your clothes and sent me up the road to the old monestary. I can't keep up the charade anymore Adam, why did you have to die!" Adam leapt up off of the bench and began one of the defensive dances he had learned in the monestary. Eventually he spun into the hot stream of water and tried to cool off the rest of the way, but it wasn't working. Adam spun and kicked and moved and jabbed until he could no longer move, and then he fell down on the tiled surface and let his tears join the water from the shower. Standing where she couldn't be seen, Jo looked at Adam, and saw someone that she didn't know. For one thing, Adam was lying to everyone. Adam, was no he at all. Feeling betrayed and hurt, Jo left the shower room where she had followed Adam when he ran from the party. So much for a great day. |
| After the party was over, and the common room cleaned up and the gifts hauled up to her room, seraph remembered that Cala had forgotten her party gift; a pair of hand painted Shuriken that Seraph had selected for her specifically. Spirits high, she waltzed over to Cala’s door and knocked. It creaked open, but there was no answer. “Cala?” she asked softly, pushing open the door. The dark haired young woman was slumped over her desk in an exhausted sleep. Starling smiled her heart full of affection and pity- her friend looked like she had been put through the wringer. She walked over to the desk and set down the shuriken. As she did so, she noticed a stack of paper on the desk, and her attention was caught by a name repeated several times thereon. Arrluk Kamerak. Ignoring the slumbering maid, she picked up the pile and shuffled through them, being careful to keep them in order as she did so. What she read there made her face flush in anger and her lips tighten into a razor thin line: Kidnapping, conspiracy, bribes, corrupt leaders. They opened the door to a part of Seraph that she lived in constant vigil to keep locked away, and fury, righteous and searing, flowed through her. Barely managing to keep it in check, she put down the papers and eased her arm around Cala, lifting her. Cala woke slightly, enough to help seraph walk her over to the bed, while muttering “Wusn’t asleep…wus resting.” Seraph settled the girl under the covers and removed her shoes, and Cala rolled over onto her stomach, talking in her sleep. “None of your business Butterfly! Nosy little bug.” Seraph watched as her breathing settled, then quietly walked out of the room and the dormitory. Jomei Benjiro was walking though the grounds of the Oracle Academie, enjoying the quiet and the cool air, looking up at the starlit sky with an even gaze. He often volunteered for the Teacher Watch, as he didn’t need much sleep, and appreciated the chance for solitude and contemplation. He was passing the practice courts when he registered a strange noise coming from the indoor court; hoarse, angry shouts, to be exact. Silently, he padded on bare feet to the door to the room from where the sounds where emanating from, opened it, and stood there absorbing the scene. It was Seraphine, his top student in battle tactics and strategy. She was standing in front of a practice dummy, dealing it blow after blow, punctuated by harsh yells. He noticed that each blow was of the kind that could kill a man with one strike. “I think the dummy is dead now, Seraphine.” He said blandly. The sweatsoaked girl spun around, pale eyes wide. “Professor! I didn’t know you were here!” Benjiro walked up to the dummy and looked at it. One of the sturdy seams had split, allowing the firmly packed cotton to poke out, and the heavy canvas was stained with red streaks. He turned and held out his hands, palms up. Seraph hesitated, then placed her own palms down upon them. He inspected her knuckles, which had hardened and callused with three years of intense training; The skin was torn, blood flowing from the ragged wounds and dripping onto the ground. “Does it hurt?” he asked simply. The girl shook her head. “Your blood is up.” Jomei guessed. He knew of the battle fury that possessed the ardent child when she was angry. “What is the matter?” Seraphine looked up at her mentor, her grey eyes brimming with tears, confusion and smoldering wrath. “Sensei,” she asked, her voice soft. “I have learned of an evil done, yet it is obvious that it is being kept from the students. I know that even if I confronted those who are in charge of righting the wrong,” at this point, she looked pointedly at her teacher, who held her gaze bravely. “They would refuse to let me help. So I am frustrated. I don’t know what to do, but doing nothing is not an option. What do you advise?” Benjiro, who knew of only one secret that was being kept from the student body, understood that Seraph knew of Arrluk’s kidnapping, and that she would keep the knowledge to herself. He also had a healthy respect for the power that the girl harbored. If not given a job, Seraphine would simply stew in smoldering anger until something triggered her to release the built up rage inside her. Without channeling, Seraph was a danger to the whole student body. Clearing his throat, Jomei answered her plea. “If you cannot fight the evil yourself, assist those who are.” Seraph looked thoughtful, then nodded. “Thank you Professor.” She replied, then exited the practice court. Benjiro watched her go, remembering he had not reminded her to get her hands seen to. Instead of going to her room, seraph went instead to the barn. She grabbed some saddle blankets from hooks on the wall, then went to Gevira’s stall. Gevira woke enough to give her a look, then closed her eyes again to sleep. Kofer, however, woke fully and stared at his young mistress. “This has been quite a birthday, Kofer.” Seraphine murmured at him while piling up hay in a corner and covering it with a blanket. She flopped back onto her temporary nest, throwing the other blanket over herself and settling in. “Tov Laellah.” She wished her pets goodnight in Yeshaian, then fell into an exhausted sleep. After a few minutes, when Kofer was sure that the girl was not going to move, he walked over cautiously and sniffed her hands where the blood was caked. Tentitively, he began to lick, cleaning them the only way he knew how. Once they were finished to his satisfaction, he curled up against Seraph’s side and went to sleep as well. Over the next while, people began to notice a change in Seraph. She seemed to eminate a cold purpose, a palpable aura like that of a coiled viper, ready to strike. Her teachers, though they understood what was going on, where flustered and worried. The other students avoided her, not quite understanding why they felt frightened of the girl they had known for years. As for Seraphine, she kept to herself for the most part. The desire for friends was put aside in the face of a bigger issue. With constantly having to keep her fury in check, as well as concentrate on classes, she simply didn’t have the energy or the patience. She worked in the courts till Benjiro kicked her out, fearing she would injure herself, though her hands had healed quite quickly. She rode Gevira, and spent a good deal of time working with Kofer, who had come to trust her quickly. He was a clever dog, quick to learn, and was soon following seraph faithfully around the fort. The only people who still saw the cheerful, loving side of the little warrior were those she made an effort with; mainly Cala and Qannik. Cala found that she suddenly had a willing helper for anything she needed, and took advantage of it willingly. The extra work was wearing on her, and seraph’s eager assistance was a godsend. Without the little tasks, having to run around delivering messages and inquire after people in town, her job was much easier. She trusted the girl implicitly, so she had no fear sending important or confidential documents with Seraphine, and soon she was feeling much more at ease, if not relaxed. As for Qannik, the shy girl found herself adopted. Suddenly she was the recipient of daily hugs and smiles. Seraph stopped in her room to visit, and corralled her into chess lessons during free learning time. She was introduced to Kofer, who took to her immediately, sensing a kindred spirit, and Gevira, who accepted a new admirer with natural grace. And so Seraphine was managing to control the smoldering coals of anger. But the teachers, Benjiro and Sage in particular, were very, very worried. |
| I smell ashes and death on the air…running, running…dead lying in piles (don’t look!)…raindrops, large splash against the churned mud (is the sky crying?). Lan, skin trailing behind him like a cloak, sits upon the skinning chair as if it were his throne. His head turns, eyeless, faceless…beckoning…oh god, beckoning towards me…Ma!…Da! Cala woke with a gasp, panting hard as sweat beaded on her brow. She found herself lying on the hard wood floor, curled into a tight ball, and Pen nuzzling her and mewling gently. She pulled herself into a sitting position and grasped hard at her hair, pulling to feel the pain, pulling to come back to reality. Rivulets of blood ran down her upper arms where her nails had dug into flesh. Deep breath girl…deep breath… Slowly, she steadied herself and shook her head. “Oh Pen, I am a fool,” she murmured softly, stroking the great cat’s head. “I slept well, that one night and I was an idiot to think it would happen twice. I felt them to, the nightmares, clawing at me, but I ignored them. And I only went without sleep for several days. I know I can do better than that. I can do anything I have to.” Pen purred and bumped his head into her shoulder. She smiled and stroked him some more with a shaky hand before her eyes wandered to the clock. It was past noon. Cala let out a stream of curses and pulled herself up to a standing position. I am late…I am so late! And I was supposed to teach this morning! I’m never late, what am I going to tell people? That I overslept? That will work, yes, that will work. Now what about these arms… She dug in a small woven basket until she came up with some bandages. After a desperate search, she gave up looking for scissors, and used her teeth to tear off the gauze and tie the bandages tight over her wounds. And I had homework to turn in for maths and a presentation in oration…gods curse me! And the final report to Benjiro…gods curse me, what a mistake! After tying her hair into a thick braid and winding it around her head, the dark haired Thanian knelt and took her cat’s head in both hands. “Thank you lad,” she murmured to him, “for waking me.” Pen twitched his ears and purred and she darted out the door. ~*~ She met Seraph in the common room, stack of reports in arm. When Cala had woken up days ago, and saw the pile disturbed, ever so slightly, she knew someone had looked at it. She had been angry with herself, more than anything, for not locking her door or at least putting them safely away. But that was the night she hadn’t expected herself to fall asleep. But now she had Seraph who had proven more useful than expected. Cala was even able to use her to hear rumors from locals, usually not very dangerous, who would never suspect a little girl. At first she had been wary, her orders were to do this solo, but a look in Seraphs eyes made Cala shrug her shoulders and let her help. “Well lass,” she said, setting down the heavy stack of papers, “we’re done with our part for the moment.” “What?” Seraph said sharply, looking up. “And what happened to your arms?” “Training,” the older girl responded simply. “Now, we’ve done all that we are supposed to do, for the moment at least.” “No.” The sharpness in Seraph’s voice made Cala look at the girl, brows raised. “We have not found Arrluk yet,” she said, words cold and precise. “We are not done.” Cala held the girl with her eyes for a moment, taking her measure, appraising her, then sat back in her chair and rubbed her temples. Something in the girls voice had made Cala’s skin prickle and she had to proceed cautiously. Part of being a commander, girl, is knowing how to deal with people….but Benjiro, I don’t want to be a commander, I just want to back to my home and raise sheep on the windswept rock….We’ll see lass…. Opening her eyes, Cala steepled her fingers. “From Butterfly we know that the was a nasty storm and the fragments of the ship Arrluk was on were found. From there we have millions of different options. Some plans I have already run through my head and discarded, rejected, tossed out, for reasons that are my own. We have many left, too many, in fact. And then we come to purpose of our assignment. Simply to find what happened to him. We need to know when we are in overhead and cannot be too proud to shift responsibility. We need to know our weaknesses, if not, we might let things spiral out of control because of our own pride. It’s like bringing ego into the dojo, it should not be done. Right now, we are working beyond our means and cannot go on like this. I am shifting the responsibility to the school. They may want us to keep up communication, but for the most part, I am turning in the final report. Seraph frowned at her and began shaking her head, a spark catching behind eyes the color of a dove’s breast. Cala stopped her, flicking her forehead with a thumb and forefinger. It was a gesture her sensei gave to her when he wanted her attention or she was doing something wrong. In this case, Cala wanted Seraphs attention. Something had changed within the girl in the past month and it worried Cala. Something she couldn’t name, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but a part of Cala was wary of her, as if a sixth sense was working. “Seraphine,” Cala said seriously, brows furrowing, “don’t let this thing take control of you. This thing with Arrluk I mean. You’re are passionate about it, but don’t let it take control of you and change who you are.” She tried to impress the importance of this on the girl but she wasn’t sure if she had gotten through. “I still don’t like it,” Seraph said, frowning. ~*~ “He got on a ship, the Grey Goose. It sailed so either my rumor missed it or there was something more important then the superstition of sailors. From what I heard it was the same ship her and his sister came in on. It didn’t make sense to me that he would leave after giving his word to stay. He didn’t strike me as that kind of person, especially if he had the opportunity to stay with his sister. On this thought I hung around a bit more in hopes if finding out where the ship was going or why he was on it. A sailor from the ship bought a drug from the local herbalist so I can only assume that the boy did not go willingly. The ship was hit with a storm at sea and his whereabouts are unknown. Everything else is in the report.” Cala finished, shoving the stack of papers at Benjiro. “And you did not follow the ship?” “The assignment was information gathering. And beyond that you told me to use my intelligence guided by experience,” she sighed and shook her head. “This boy is not my responsibility. He is this school’s. The school has the means and ways, as well as the responsibility to get him back. To even see if he is alive. I, at the moment, do not. I am supposed to be teaching classes, learning. I know when to hand off my duty. I would suggest that I keep a general watch on rumors in the local villages but no more.” She shifted uncomfortable and frowned. “And I messed up.” Benjiro peered at her over a pair of thin metal spectacles. “Usually that is not something you want to tell people.” “But you are not people. I could have used Butterfly, the thirder. I forgot about him. He would have been an asset.” He could have made information gathering easier…and I could have watched him better. As it is, I don’t know how he fared, completely. He gave me information I didn’t have. Curse me for not using him sooner. “You get a point for realizing that,” Benjiro said, taking off his spectacles and shuffling Cala’s report. “But your assignment was to do this solo, so in essence you followed directions.” “But following directions is not always the best thing.” “True. And that is a good thing to remember. But for this exercise, it was important that you were solo.” “But I wasn’t alone, I had help from Seraph in the end.” “True. So, then, why did you not then ask help from Butterfly?” Cala thought for a moment then pursed her lips then shook her head and sighed. “Because once I initially never asked for his help, Butterfly would do this on his own. I would not be able to be his leader, his commander. Even if I then later asked his help, he would have already had his own agenda. Pooling our resources would have been wise, being his ally. But the assignment was to do this without help, and an ally on the battlefield, meaning Butterfly, is different from one of your own troops, i.e. Seraph. Going solo was part of my training and so I figured I had to follow orders. Benjiro hid a smile behind his hand. “Good. I will also embrace your suggestion on you and, and Seraph…and Butterfly if you wish, keeping a general watch on rumors. But, nothing like you have been doing. Dismissed Cala.” |
| ((Eurgh, I am sorry for lateness, but Kai had a slight case of being-in-Turkey)) Butterfly wasn't particularly a stranger to being furious, or even furious for several days; but he hadn't been this angry, for this long, since he'd left Thana. Ever since Seraph's birthday, a week ago, the only smile he'd worn had been bitter and his only jokes had been cruel. He could barely pick up a pen without wanting to stab someone with it. And it was all... her... stupid... fault. "What's your problem?" Butterfly had confronted Zenia at the party, in a quiet corner. "Why do you not even give me a chance?" "Why were you eavesdropping?" She fired back. "I was curious, alright? And now I'm even more so and you still haven't answered my question." She was silent, looking at the floor, her scowl incongrous against the background of happiness. "Let me guess, it's always ended in tears before?" Zenia nodded. "Someone's always leaving. It's safer like this." "Oh, who cares about that? Safety is for old people and the stupid." "Which am I?" "Stupid," he'd snapped. "Just because you know you're going to be unhappy tomorrow is no reason to stop yourself enjoying today. Maybe you die tomorrow and it isn't an issue." Zenia had looked up, then, her eyes narrowed and cold. "Leave me alone," she hissed with icy dignity. "I'll do what I like, thank you. Is that alright, Butterfly? Is is allowed for me not to want to be hurt?" One or the other of them had stormed off at that point. Probably both. Lessons since then had been interesting, to say the least - Butterfly was well aware that all he needed was some time away and he'd calm down quickly, but that wasn't exactly possible here. And then there'd been Cala, who he'd always thought of as a friend - turning down his offer of help. So obviously he wasn't good enough but Seraph was, and now suddenly he wasn't good enough for her either. Well... whatever. Butterfly had reached the point where he really didn't care anymore. He just had to leave, get out, do something - prove something? Maybe. He took no special care to be sneaky; Butterfly was pretty sure that Benjiro, at least, noticed him go. But nobody tried to stop him, which was all he asked. It was a whole night's ride to the wreck of the Grey Goose; and once there it took well into the morning to pick his way over the rocks and cliffs and general messiness of this bit of coast to where the rib-cage of the broken ship sprawled out like a defeated sea-monster, picked clean by scavengers, savaged by the restless ocean. By this time Butterfly hadn't slept for a while, but every time he paused curiosity and a flash of resurgent anger would drive him onwards. All the easily accessable bodies had been removed, and as far as anyone knew there'd been no survivors. At least, none had come forwards and admitted it. But Arrluk had been kidnapped - he'd been drugged, Butterfly knew this - so he'd have been locked somewhere, so if he'd died his body wouldn't be in the 'easily accessable' category. Professional wreck-hunters wouldn't bother with such a broken ship as most of the cargo would have been lost, and local opportunists wouldn't have gotten around to breaking open locked doors just yet. At least, so Butterfly hoped. Picking his way carefully around the wreck, Butterfly felt his spirits begin to rise in the thin autumn sunshine. In the vast silence, defined by placid wave-noise and scratched by the calls of sea-birds, he felt peace finally beginning to creep back to his mind. Eventually he gave up really searching for evidence of Arrluk in particular and just explored for the fun of it, skinning his knees and elbows, collecting splinters and cuts, accidentally leaving a chunk of hair caught in the remains of a door-frame as he wormed and scrambled and slid his way further and further into the ruins of the ship. He wouldn't be going back to the Academy any time soon. Looking for Arrluk was getting to be way too much fun. |
Arrluk came to coughing and retching and spitting out water. Blinding pain through his neck and shoulder and arm and wrist blanked out all thought of anything else for an uncertain amount of time. Eventually, however, other aches made themselves felt. His legs and waist were under water, and cold water lapped over his back and shoulders from time to time as the tide came in, leaving him numb in several places and shivering all over. Sharp edges of the unyielding rock he lay upon pressed into his stomach and thigh and chest. Memory returned in snatches of reasonable thought. He'd been trapped, in the ship. The storm - there'd been a storm - capsized the ship. He'd ended up floating free in the ocean. Lightning had shown the hulk of the ship, now in two sizeable pieces, headed in two separate directions. The bow bobbed to the surface and headed inland, toward the rocky coast. The heavier stern, where he'd been, had only surfaced briefly before sinking again. With the undertow, it was bound to head out to sea before going south with the tide. He must be on shore himself, still hooked into the barrels he'd tied himself to. That made sense. He stirred sluggishly, groaning as more aches and pains made themselves felt. For long moments, the only roaring he could hear was the pounding of blood in his ears as his whole head threatened to detach itself from his shoulders and go spinning away. By the time his head had decided it would remain attached, after all, Arrluk knew he was in serious trouble. He wasn't a medicine man, but he did know the signs and symptoms of shock and concussion as well as any other hunter of the clan. The fact that he lay sprawled in an icy foreign beach, unable to move, while sporting all the classic textbook symptoms of head injury and physical shock, left Arrluk cold with a fear such as he had never known in his life. An aching, burning crick in his neck prompted him to try, gingerly, to ease his head into a slightly different position. He bit his lips and moved his head fractionally, swallowing back a cry of pain, and realized what his muzzy head hadn't been able to tell him before: the tide was coming in. He must have floated with the tide up on this rocky shore until the barrels had gotten wedged in among the rocks. Now, the water alternately soaked his back and washed over his face, over the cheek that pressed against a particularly rough rock. Experimentally, he twitched the fingers of his right hand where it lay half-under his chest and right side. They tingled with returning sensation and he shivered in the cold. He couldn't feel his left hand and that was a really bad sign. Groggy, he managed to draw his knees up towards his chest and free his right arm while pulling more of his body out of the icy water. Moving, of course, flooded him with waves of agony, but the desperate need to get free drove all other thoughts from his mind. He paused to catch his breath, letting his right arm flop freely in the water and fighting against nausea and the blackness which hovered at the edges of his thoughts. Tentatively, he blinked, trying to sort out the shambles of gray and black shadows into shapes he recognized. Eventually, he was able to make out different shapes among the rocky boulders he lay among. The tint of the grayness seemed to hint of morning and Arrluk was relieved. At least he only had dehydration to worry about and not exposure to heat and cold. If he could only get out of the water and off the beach, he might just be able to live through this escapade. Tentatively, he curled his right hand around a rock and lifted - and he gagged, sagging back down. He closed his eyes, willing the pain away. He might have blacked out, he wasn't sure, but he came to again, huddled against the bindings holding his left hand up, a fist-sized, jagged rock clenched to his chest. Gasping for breath with the effort, he jiggled his body around, inch by inch so that he could see the bloated ropes swallowing his left hand and wrist. He stared at the mess, despair rising in a lump in his throat. He shivered, closing his eyes as he tried to figure out how to get free. His left arm felt like it was on fire, but he still couldn't feel the fingers on that hand. He didn't have enough strength to hack through all of the thick ropes. There had to be a way - Ah! Arrluk forced his eyes open once more. His hand was in the center of the mass, but single ropes had gone around the barrels to hold them together in the knot at the top. Now, with a good deal of the bulk gone, the bottom was loose, while the top was still stretched tight. If he could reach up, above his head, and cut through that rope, the rest should come free. Then he should be able to move the ropes, rather than cut through the rest to free his hand. He eased into a better position and raised his right arm. The fingers brushed against the rope, stiff from long exposure to the salty water. He twisted his rock a little to a better edge, and set to work. There was a definite change in the morning light when his hand came free with a jar that vastly expanded the blackness at the edges of Arrluk's vision. He was losing feeling in his toes now and almost didn't believe at first that he was free. With the fall, the ropes slipped away from his trapped limb and Arrluk stared at the mess of his left hand. When he could pull his terrified and paralyzed gaze away, he looked up and away towards the distant treeline. What seemed to be an insurmountable barrier of rocks lay between him and the uncertain security of the trees. He bit his lip, the despair coming back, the hopelessness of his situation almost overwhelming his willpower. But, as he lay there shivering, Arrluk decided he wasn't going to just lay there and wait to die. He forced his eyes open again and pushed himself over to his right side, letting his numb left arm flop against his stomach. Using his feet to push, and his right hand to hunt out a path, Arrluk propelled himself up the beach. He stopped to rest periodically, often waking from sudden naps, afraid each time that he'd be unable to wake from another. After awhile, his head seemed to detach itself from the new agonies of his painstaking progress, a relief that Arrluk was beyond even questioning. Then the ground flattened out under him and he collapsed forward onto the smooth ground, shaking violently. As exhaustion lapped at the edges of his awareness, dragging him down toward oblivion, Arrluk's last conscious sensation was the soft, clay-like ground pressing soothingly against his hot cheek. Somewhere above him, a bird sang . . . . * * * Qannik yawned, blinking tired eyes as she tried to focus on class. Seraph's birthday was long past and the twenty-something days since had passed in a blur of activity. Qannik couldn't quite remember if the days consisted of a couple of weeks, or if it'd been a month yet. Seraph had actually talked to Professor Gamble for her, and now Qannik had special classes to improve her language, but some days, like this one, made the increase in her comprehension seem nonexistant. She was sooo tired! She'd heard the gull again in her dreams, but that was all she remembered, all she was ever able to remember. " . . . Qannik . ." The young woman lifted her head off her arms. "Huh?" She stared at Professor Rishi blankly, hearing the titters of laughter from the rest of the class, but unable to spare the energy for embarassment. Professor Rishi scowled and looked over at the door. Another student stood there, awkwardly holding a note and shifting from one foot to another under Professor Rishi's fierce scowl. He hated to be interrupted in a class. Slowly, Qannik gathered up her things and followed the other student out. The boy handed her a note and said, "Professor Woodson wants to see you." Then, he turned and walked away down the hall. The note was written in Seraph's elegant hand, instructing her to report to the headmaster's office. Seraph was even waiting for her when she got there. "What's wrong?" she asked as soon as she caught sight of her young friend's blood-shot eyes. Quannik just shrugged and took a seat on the bench opposite the door from Seraph. As much as she'd come to care for the other girl, Qannik just didn't feel like being social. She was grumpy and tired, and hungry from missing breakfast. The past few weeks had rushed by for Qannik. She'd never given Seraph her gift, having been far too embarassed to give her the gift after falling asleep at the party and finding out that Butterfly had also painted something for Seraph. Qannik liked the older boy. He was quiet and almost melancholy most of the time, but occassionally flashed a grin that could change the mood of a whole room. He was infatuated with one of the other girls and, about a week after Seraph's party, had disappeared entirely for several days. No one ever said anything, and Qannik didn't feel it her place to ask, but the students seemed to come and go as they pleased. Cala, another of the Uppers, was often gone for hours at a time and when she was at the school, she was usually running around in a semi-panic. Seraph, even, left unexpectedly at odd times. Qannik knew when she was gone, because Seraph had introduced her to Kofer, who reminded her of the wolf-dogs at home, and Gevira, the horse that Seraph rode. Seraph had even promised to teach Qannik to ride some time. Qannik had eyed the massive animal and wondered how she could ever ride a creature that looked so much like something she used to hunt and eat. Still, it was rather neat to befriend the gentle animal. She missed their company almost more than Seraph's when the girl was gone. The atmosphere among the rest of the Firsters was thick with tension. Qannik didn't know what it was, but over the days since Seraph's birthday, the cliques that had formed in the first week of school had broken apart and reformed in different ways. The changed friendships placed a strain on everyone and Qannik had done her best to stay away from the moody atmosphere - and the other Firsters - as much as possible. She supposed that the headmaster wanted to talk to her about the many times she'd missed her first class of the day. She didn't like the combat classes with Cala anyway, but she'd been getting so little rest that she had a tendency to sleep right through the chimes of the fountain. Or, she chastized herself, she'd gotten good at turning off the fountain, without ever actually waking up. "What does the Headmaster want to see you for, Seraph?" she asked. The other girl stared at her a moment and Qannik saw the neutral mask slip back over Seraph's face. She often wore that mask these days, as if whatever was behind it was too terrible to let loose. Perversely, Qannik saw that face most often and though she didn't think that Seraph was mad at her, she had a private suspicion that she was the cause of the pain, which saddened her. "I don't know," Seraph replied, her voice as toneless as her face. "He didn't say." They lapsed into silence, broken only by the soft creaking as the door opened. Cala and Butterfly stepped out, not looking at each other and heading in opposite directions. Seraph and Qannik exchanged quick, nervous glances, each glad to have the other's company, for their own separate reasons. "Come in," came the Headmaster's calm voice and the two girls inched inside. Professor Woodson observed them silently as they stood before his desk. They were almost the same age, but while Seraph met his gaze calmly (almost defiantly), Qannik fidgeted nervously, staring at the floor. At last he spoke: "The Oracle wishes to see you, Qannik. And you, Seraph." Seraph and Qannik stared at each other in horrified dismay. What had they done? "Professor Benjiro will escort you. You may have a seat outside until he arrives." Note from ebie: Alright guys, we're moving on. Sorry it took me so long, I didn't realize that eight days had gone by. I dunno where Staryl is, so we'll just have to skip her. your turn, jo! |
Jo ran up the stairs with tears rolling down her face. The only friend she had thought she had in her horrid place and been lying to her the entire time. When she arrived at her room, she threw open the door and collasped onto her bed. She hated this place and everyone in it. No one cared about her here. If only there was some way she could escape. A quiet knock was heard from her door and reluctantly Jo got up to see who it was. A small servant boy looked up at her when she opened the door. "Madam, I was to inform you that your stallion had just arrived and to apologize for the long wait," he said politely. A sly smile crept onto Jo's face, for she had just thought up another of her crazy plans. "Thank you for letting me know and I'm sure that the delay was completely out of your control," she answered sweetly. "Good Day, Madam," the boy said as he started down the hall. "Good Day, indeed." Jo shut the door and danced in joy. "King! We finally got our ticket out of here! We can escape on Thunder! Won't it be grand? Everyone's at Seraph's party so they won't notice us and besides they're too busy looking for Arrluk that they bother with us! And when it comes time for classes again, they'll all think I'm just skipping like usual! It's pure genius! Come on, we have to start getting ready. We leave as soon as we're packed!" |
| Ada finished with her shower, reluctantly leaving the warmth and comfort she had found there. She wrapped herself in a towel, fully intending to find clothing to wear that would no longer hide who she was, she was tired of keeping secrets and she wouldn't do it anymore, she wasn't too entirely sure if she would be able to stay sane if she continued under the alias her brother's death had given her. On her way out of the bathrooms though she found something that immediately chilled everything through her very soul, it was Jo's scarf, the one she had been wearing at the party, the scarf that Ada had helped her to pick out that day they spent together at the market. Ada ran across the courtyard, ignoring the stares at her towel-swathed body and her lithe figure running towards the girl's dormitory. She ran into Cala halfway up the stairs, bursting through anything that Cala might have to say, Ada grabbed her shoulders and demanded to know which room was Jo's. Ada burst into the room ready to explain, clutching the brilliant green scarf that set off Jo's eyes perfectly, and stopped staring at a disheveled and completly empty room. Ada sat down on the rumpled bed and tried to breath through the tears. How could Jo have left her? She was the only friend besides those dry old monks in longer than Ada cared to think about. Finally she realized that she was sitting on a bed with nothing but a towel on, and she surged to her feet in a graceful movement and slammed the door closed slamming the lock home in the same smooth movement. Jo would have some clothes that would fit her and would probably be more appropriate for her now. She settled on a pair of brown pants that Jo had probably never worn, they didn't show nearly enough skin, and one of the skinny tops that was almost nonexistant in material. Ada looked at herself in the small mirror and ran her hands through her hair, she had always been a pretty boy, but she liked her reflection without the lies that had been her companions for far too long, then she went in search of Jo, feeling a sense of foreboding that had quite a bit to do with the fact that there was very little in the way of possessions in Jo's room. |
| The day felt quiet to Seraph. The forest seemed solemn, the trees still and the sky cloudy. the October air was chill, but the brisk pace that Professor Benjiro was setting kept both Seraphine and Qannik warm, to the point where they took off their cardigans and rolled up their sleeves. “I’m scared.” Qannik said quietly. “me too.” Replied Seraph, holding back a whippy branch as they both passed by. “what do you think the oracle wants?” Qannik asked. Seraph shrugged. “no clue. What do you think?” The black eyed girl looked into the air, as if struggling to see something through a fog. “I think it has something to do with Arrluk.” Seraph looked at her sharply. “Why do you think that?” everyone had been careful to keep any word of Arrluk’s kidnapping away from his sensitive sister. “Just a feeling.” Qannik murmered, still looking far off. She wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead. “this is a long walk. We’ve been going for an hour now.” Seraph nodded. “It’ll be another few hours before we get there. The Oracle is a few miles walk up the mountain, by the Deep Spring.” “whats the deep spring?” asked Qannik. “it’s the source of the river that flows through all of Oracle. The spring itself is supposed to be important to the Oracle’s work. “save your breath girls.” Ordered Benjiro. “we’re starting up the mountain now, and you’ll need it.” For three hours the trio walked, stopping for rests only twice on the journey upward. They arrived finally at the temple, a semi circle of buildings connected by a covered walkway, with the spring in the middle. Benjiro led them passed the bubbling pool and into the main building. The inside of the room was as light as the outside, thanks to a half dozen tall windows, and in its centre sat a circle of eight people, four male, four female, ranging from quite old to a boy in his late teens. They looked up as benjiro and the girl’s entered, and smiled. “welcome.” Said the oldest of the group, a woman with a face was spotted and lined with age, and blue eyes as deep as the spring. Benjiro bowed, and with a nervous look at each other, the girl’s copied him, thenfollowed as he moved forward to join the circle. Instead of sitting one to each side of their teacher, they sat together on his left, reaching to hold tight to each other’s hands. The eight seers gazed intently at the two children, in a way that reminded Seraph of the look that Qannik had worn when speaking of her brother. Eventually, the old woman spoke again. “I am Senne, the mouth of the oracle. You are Qannik Kamerak and Seraphine Benami.” The girls nodded. “I have summoned you here to speak to you both, on various subjects. Some of these things pertain only to the individual. Would you rather hear them in private?” The girls looked at each other. “No.” replied Seraph, seeing Qannik’s terrified look and feeling relieved that she wouldn’t have to be alone with the spooky woman. “We’ll here them together.” Senne looked to Qannik first. “Qannik, you are coming into a very important stage in your life. Do you know what that is?” Qannik shook her head. “I think you must have noticed, my child. They dreams, they come often now, don’t they.” Qannik’s eyes grew wide, and Seraph felt her start to shake beside her. Her eyes questioned the seer. “We know of the dreams, yes. Each of us, when we came of age, began to see in dreams. And yes, child, what you suspect is true. They are not regular dreams, but true visions. And you will need them very much in the coming time. Trust them, and the feelings they give you. They will not fail you.” Then Senne turned to Seraph. “So, desert Princess, the hot wind blows in your soul. The sand billows in clouds, and scrapes your heart raw. But I must disappoint you. We know what you seek, and that you will not find it. There is no peace, no cure for those cursed with the battlefire. You are destined, child, set out for a purpose.” “But I make my own choices.” Seraph ventured as she thought back to an overheard conversation between Dune and Cala. But Senne merely smiled. “The One God knows all, the beginning and end of every choice, before you even think of making it. He sees your path, Firechild. He created you knowing that path, knowing the part you play in this world. And if you ask him, he will guide you. In the time that is coming, you will need his guidance. Senne now looked at both of the girls. “Qannik’s brother, Arrluk, has been shipwrecked on the coast of Zophia.” Seraphine looked to Qannik, as did Benjiro and all of the seers. Qannik’s dark eyes were wide. “The dreams! I felt him, his fear! I felt the water, heard the seagulls…” Senne nodded. “Yes. He was taken against his will. There has been a perversion in the power system among the Iyrukai, and your shaman has turned away from the One God, lured away by the promise of attaining great power with little effort. We are sending you both, along with the ones called Cala and butterfly, to find him and bring him back to the school. Benjiro had been growing very angry, and finally burst out at this. “Not only did you fail to tell us where the boy was, when you knew we were searching for him, but now you send four children to find him and bring him back? The oldest is only seventeen! I don’t care how capable these children are, they cannot go on their own!” “They must.” Replied Senne. “in all the futures we see, they are on their own. That is the way it is to be.” Her look softened. “We are sorry we were not able to see his whereabouts sooner, but the shaman had hidden the boy Arrluk from us. We were only just able to break through the fog he had spread in our minds.” Senne stood, and the others stood with her. Seraph stumbled a bit as she rose, and Benjiro caught her, gentle even though his anger was still great. “We have one more thing we must see to. Follow us into the courtyard. The group moved into the cobbled area between the buildings, and stood before the spring. The youngest seer, a curly haired boy of about nineteen, took a bowl and used it to scoop up some of the water. He handed it to Senne, who took it and prayed over it in a language that none of the three understood. She breathed on it, then motioned for Qannik to step forward. Dipping her bony forefinger in the water, she took it and touched it to the lids of Qannik’s eyes. “that is all.” She murmered. “Pascal, see the guests to one of the sleeping chambers.” And with that, seven of the seers moved off, leaving only the three and the Seer boy Pascal. Pascal smiled at the two exhausted girls and motioned for the group to follow him. “you two can share this room.” He said, sliding a door away from a small cell like space. “Benjiro, you may have the room next to them. Sleep well.” And with that, the door was slid shut, leaving the girls alone in the room, silent in the fading twilight. |
| Cala was in the equipment room, rolling up a blanket into a tight roll and sticking it in the bottom of her pack. Emotion coursed through her veins like hot lead. Why are they sending us to do this? We are four…kids…and only four sending us out into a place we barely know. I know what I have seen and I can guess at what Butterfly may have seen…I know our experience level but why us? There are teachers who would be much more effective and they send us out into this unknown. Those so-called Oracles, it is they. ‘The Oracles say you must go.’ The Oracles do not control my life, and knowing the path is different from walking it. They could send anyone and they say to send us. It is not our duty! It is not our responsibility! They are supposed to be… She slammed her fist into the floor, watching her blood spatter on the stained wood. She took a breath, focusing, calming down. She picked out a trail knife and stowed in the pack. But we must do this. This is an order. They are under my command now, Butterfly, Seraph, Qannik. We’ve all had survival training, tracking and the like, here, at the academy, some more than others. She closed her eyes, remember the year she spent as a child, running, suriving for her life in the Thanian wilderness. Butterfly too, I’m sure knows how to survive. Seraph…she’s from the desert…but she’s taken enough classes. I don’t know about Qannik. I don’t know anything about Qannik. But it is her brother who it looks like she loved…that should be good enough. They are all skilled, they are all talented. They will be fine…I trust them. Is it really us they have faith in, those Oracles, or is it just this so called future they can see? She took her pack to her room and tried to find Benjiro. He was nowhere to be found and neither were Seraph or Qannik. She wanted to get everyone together, find and measure their skill so they would work well together, be a well-oiled machine but now she couldn’t find anyone. Butterfly was the only one she had seen, in the Headmaster’s office. He loved maps, that she knew, and she had already asked him to find and bring some. His attitude was aloof toward her and she shook her head not knowing why. Now wasn’t the time to deal with it. Cala stopped suddenly, realizing that the girls might be with the Oracles. She closed her eyes, glad she did not have to go. But they needed to start and start soon, the longer they stayed there, the faster they lost the trail. note:just reminding all of you who are going to Zophia (or who are in zophia currently)that they speak manoan there (think spanish, but slightly different. except in the cities, it's rare to find someone who speaks common. |
| "Perii kulehhhh..." Ensconced in a quiet corner of the library, maps spread out around him like a lady's skirt, Butterfly let the Thanian obscenity diffuse out into the dusty air. Scrabbling through smaller-scale maps until he was sure, he shook his head in wonder - the storm must have broken the ship up, which given that the pieces he'd found had been basically a prow with some bits of keel attached, fitted with what he knew. But for the rest to have been driven all the way to Zophia... evidently the winter really wasn't going to be pleasant, if storms like this were hitting and it not even October yet. Hopefully their own passage wouldn't be quite that exciting. He didn't think he was really ready for that level of adventure just yet. "Butterfly?" He hadn't heard Cala approach, so wrapped up in his maps and ruminations. "Iemaa- I mean, hi Cala, have the others turned up yet?" "Yes. It's a long trip and I want us to get going soon." Casting a critical eye over the acres of paper scattered on the carpet, she tried a smile which just looked terrible on her exhausted, strained face. "Bear in mind that you won't be able to take an entire library with." "I won't have to, these are the stupid-sized versions - the headmaster's okay for me to take the little ones." "How many?" Butterfly shrugged, slightly irritated. "Half a dozen, maybe. I'll carry them though, don't worry." Cala let out one long whistling breath and sagged against the heavy bookshelves. "Why are you..." she paused as light footsteps heralded the arrival of Seraph and Qannik, who she'd told to meet her here when they'd packed, and switched to an entirely new sentence. Butterfly, who could guess what she'd been about to ask, bit back the spiteful remark on the end of his tongue and said nothing as their fearless leader straightened up again. "Right, we don't have as much time as I'd like so we will have to be quick about this. I've been placed in command, please do not fight me if I ask you to do something. Do not go chasing off after ideas on your own..." here she couldn't decide whether Seraph or Butterfly was more deserving of the stern glance. "And does anyone speak Manoan?" "A bit," Butterfly allowed. "I've been there." "Why didn't you say so?" "You didn't ask." He smiled humourlessly. "Excuse me please, I have some things to do still. I'll find you guys at the Shining Sun later, okay?" The Shining Sun was a large inn in Oracle City, close enough to the docks to be convenient without being close enough to be in the bad area - it was a favourite haunt of the older Academie students. Cala looked like she was going to disagree, but didn't give her a chance to reply before he was gone, clutching a sheaf of small maps and leaving the big ones scattered over the carpet. The moment he was out of the library he started to feel a little guilty for being so harsh to her - after all, she'd probably just been following orders. Like she - all of them - were doing now. Chasing after a stolen boy because some old woman he'd never seen said she thought it should be him to go, as though fate and destiny were things that actually mattered in the real world... it didn't make a whole lot of sense, and he could tell that it was bothering Cala. Though Seraph and Qannik, wherever they'd been, looked like something was really getting to them as well. So maybe he was missing something. Something she hadn't told him... "Wouldn't be the first time," he snarled at the nightingales as he burst into his room and started filtering out the things he really needed from his accumulation of debris. It didn't come to a large amount; he'd been to the equipment room earlier and gotten everything he felt would be useful from there, as well, and it still wasn't a huge heap. Butterfly felt like a bit of a fraud, taking all this survival equipment, knowing he was a city boy who'd never be entirely certain how to use it - surviving in the wilderness wasn't his style, despite knowing the theory thanks to all the classes he'd had at the Academie. He'd prefer to take his chances on the back streets of a decent city any day, haunted and hunted by predators and poisons he could at least recognise. And once you'd grown up in Chand, using as your play-ground the nastiest urban jungles in the world... well, you got to recognise them pretty quickly. Before he left his room, Butterfly opened his windows and the door of the nightingales' cage. They'd probably die in the outside world, but at least it'd be on their own terms - something he was beginning to feel applied just as much to himself. *** "It'll take us a week at least to reach the coast," Cala said, a few hours later once they'd all reconvened at the pub. One of Butterfly's handy travel-sized maps was spread out on the corner table between them, beneath which were heaped all the various bags of supplies she'd felt necessary. "Through Yeshai land." She exchanged a smile with Seraph. "Are you certain Gevira can carry you and Qannik?" Seraph nodded, excitement shining through the residue of angry concern on her face. "Are we leaving today? It's still quite early." "I think so. I really don't want to lose any more time." She took one last hard look at the map before Butterfly slid it back into his bag with loving care, then took a deep breath and pushed herself upright. "Okay. Let's get moving." |
Her eyes wide, Qannik stared at the door as it closed behind Pascal, breathing in great, gasping breaths. "Qannik?" said Seraph after a moment, hesitantly touching the younger girl's shoulder. "Oh, Seraph!" cried Qannik, throwing herself into her friend's arms, sobbing. Seraph felt another surge of anger as she comforted Qannik. "How could they do this? How could they!" Qannik looked up, startled out of her own misery by the sudden shaking. She stepped back hastily when she caught the furious look on Seraph's face. She watched, silently wiping at her eyes, as Seraph strode to one of the beds and began shredding the pillow. "Uh, Seraph?" said Qannik, peering through the cloud of white feathers. "Are you okay?" A knock on the door distracted both girls. They looked at each other and then Seraph strode to the door and threw it open. No one was there. "Oh, look!" said Qannik, a smile brightening her tear-streaked face. She grabbed the heavy tray and dragged it inside. "Look!" she said excitedly to Seraph. "Sixaavyaq Amaqtuuq! Sixaavya, Seraph! Look!" As Seraph stared at her, Qannik grabbed a roll from the tray and began munching happily. "What is that?" asked Seraph. To her, they looked like thin, somewhat yellow pancakes, rolled with cheese and a strange, shredded meat. Qannik rattled off a description, but in her excitement, she spoke in her native tongue and it took some time before Seraph got her to say, "Well, the direct translation would be something like 'Fish Pancakes.' Special treat." "Uh, huh," said Seraph, not convinced. Instead, she reached for the dish next to that one, sampling the other foods and drinking some of the water, but she was still too filled with anger to really be hungry and shortly after went and laid down. Qannik was starving. She hadn't eaten all day and that had been a long trek, something she wasn't used to anymore, after the long summer traveling and the fall at the Academy. The fish pancakes were delicious, if not as good as Aanaga used to make. The creamy cheese was at just the right temperature and there was extra, in proportion to the smoked salmon, in just the ratios that Qannik loved. The pancakes had a hint of an unfamiliar flavor, but were very good on their own. She followed Seraph with her eyes as the other girl laid down on one of the beds. Something the oracle had said prompted Qannik to ask, "Are you a princess, Seraph? A real princess?" Seraph snorted. "I don't know what you mean by 'real,'" she answered, "but my father is the leader of our tribe. In the common lands, that's usually described as a princess." She propped herself up on an elbow and looked over at Qannik, still sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What was the water for?" Qannik shrugged. "I don't know, Seraph. That lady was really creepy." For the first time in days, or maybe weeks, Seraph smiled a smile that lit her eyes in amusement. Qannik smiled to see it. "Yes," chuckled Seraph, "She was." Then she was all seriousness again. "So what were those dreams she was talking about?" Qannik chewed on her lip. "I - I'm not sure. I can't remember." "Remember?" Seraph echoed. "You mean you can't remember dreaming?" "No," said Qannik, shaking her head, "I can't remember what I dream about, not usually. Lately, though, I've remembered hearing seagulls cry, but that's it." "Has this happened before?" She nodded. "I've been hearing the seagulls every night, almost since your birthday." "Oh, Qannik, why didn't you ever say anything?" "Because, because I didn't want you to stop being my friend!" Seraph sat straight up. "What? Why? How could you think that? Oh, Qannik, were you sent away from home?" "Yes." "Because of the dreams?" "Yes - No -- Oh, I don't know!" Qannik hugged her knees to herself, resting her head on top and looking into the shadows cast by the candle. "Just one morning, I went to my Uncle and he said I had to go. Just like that -- I wish I knew why? I dream, but I can't remember! What is it about me that scared him so?" Seraph watched her friend helplessly, not knowing what she could do or say to help. "I've wished there were something I could do," she said. "Huh?" Seraph sighed. "I knew your brother was lost - well, kidnapped." "Kidnapped? But why would anyone want to kidnap Arrluk?" "I don't know, but Cala say--" "Cala? Cala!" Qannik bounded to her feet. "How many? How many know?" she demanded, hands clenched into fists at her side. "You know but you do not tell me? Why? Why, Seraph?" Seraph watched angry tears well up in the younger girl's eyes, but could only shrug. "Well, I, we didn't want to worry you ...." "And - and all this time I thought I was going crazy, worrying, but not knowing!" She glared at Seraph. "Who else knows?" "Cala, and Butterfly, and Professor Benjiro, and Professor Woodson, that's all I know of." Qannik perched on a corner of her bed. "Tell me, Seraph, please, tell me what's happened to my brother!" * * * It was day. Arrluk stared at the ceiling for a long time, aware of being awake but without feeling the slightest need to do anything about it. He wasn't sure where he was, and had no clear idea of how he'd come to be there, nor did it really matter to him. To think, to remember, to feel, all would take more energy than he had. It was a pleasant sort of lassitude, a comforting exhaustion, where the body said to the mind, you will rest because you have no choice, you will not think, nor worry, because you will not have the strength. He was lying on a bed in a small room with walls made out of unpeeled logs chinked with clay. He could see the ceiling -- thatch over timbers -- and parts of two walls. There was a window, thrown open to admit moonlight and air; he had a view of the stars, and the air smelled of salt. To see anything more would require moving and Arrluk wasn't ready to do that yet. Just then, a bird flew in to perch on the windowsill, opening its beak and calling the hoarse, lonesome call of a seagull. A man, somewhat hunched over, came shuffling into Arrluk's field of view. He carried a tray which he set on a table nearby, and wore a patchwork collection of ragged deerhide clothes. He grinned at Arrluk, showing gaps in his teeth. "Ah! Awake, eh? Good, good." He placed a dirt-encrusted hand on Arrluk's forehead. "Good," he grunted again. "Your fever is gone. Can you sit up?" He didn't wait for Arrluk's reply. Slipping one arm behind his shoulders, he easily pulled the boy into a sitting position, using a couple pillows to cushion his back. The sudden movement made Arrluk's head spin and his arm throbbed painfully. He felt tight, constrained by the bandages he could now feel encircling his chest and back and legs. The strange man sat on the edge of the bed and fed him a thin broth from the bowl on the tray. Arrluk didn't even have the strength to turn his head away from the bitter liquid. Something of his unease and dislike must have shown on his face, however, because the strange man's face split into a sly smile and he chuckled. "Eat! Eat!" he said. The boy fell asleep before he could finish the contents of the bowl and Kafele frowned in worry. The boy was too weak, despite the -- Of a sudden, Tut, Kafele's familiar, called, flapping his wings. Kafele whirled, to stare at the young girl, standing in the doorway and staring at him, with a horrified expression on her face. "No," he said, "Wait!" But she screamed, "Get away! Get away from him!" and threw herself across the room, to vanish, as the crystal on its cord around Kafele's neck, blazed into light. The shaman sighed. "Well, Tut," he said, "They're on their way now." * * * "No! Arrluk! No, no, let me go!" Seraph shook the girl harder. "Qannik! Qannik, wake up!" "Arrluk!" Qannik gasped as she came awake. "I know where he is, Seraph, I know where he is!" * * * Without her school items, and paring down the huge stack of so-called survival items to a manageable size, Qannik stared at her bag. It seemed tiny, just like her, where it sat under the table with the other stuff. She again wore native attire, the only things she had which could survive out in the wilderness, and she knew Cala and the others worried about her, but she knew. She knew she could last out there, and much better than any of them. In this instance, she felt completely confident and secure in her abilities. Wasn't she the one who had described the place to the Oracles, drawing what she'd see so that they could put a name to a place so that the others could find it, too? She could feel the connection to her brother pulling at her and was eager to be away. She just couldn't sit still, wanted to follow that thread now-now-NOW! From Seraph stared at her worriedly, and Cala and Butterfly tended to regard her with a strange expression, uncertain how to treat her: a peer, or someone to be protected, or something like a ticking time-bomb. The children stood up from the table, Cala and Butterfly grabbing the gear and maps. Seraph sent a questioning look at Qannik, still fidgeting, and staring blankly out the window. She leaned over, touched Qannik's shoulder, and asked, "Coming?" Qannik jumped -- out of her thoughts and right up out of her seat. Then the small girl stared up at Seraph fiercely. "Of course I am!" |
| She'd been right; that was the worst of it. All through their fight and their raging silence afterwards, Zenia had clung tightly to the hope that she would be wrong, that he would stay. But all for nothing, he was leaving her alone and Zenia couldn't push away the notion that it was her fault. From her room she could just see out into the courtyard with Sassy pearched on her lap. She had quietly watched him saddle up a horse and lead it to the gates, waiting, praying but at the same time afraid he would look back and see her. A single salty tear slid from beneath her long lashes when he did not - he just rode away, like all the rest of them. "Oh Sas," she sobbed, finally letting the tears flow freely, "how can it have happened again? I tried so hard not to allow him to get to me." "But it didn't work - he still found a way through that cold exterior of yours," replied Sas comfortingly, "maybe that means it was meant to happen." Zenia sighed and turned back to gaze out of the window, "I want to go home Sas, but I don't know where home is," she was cut off by a sound from outside her door. Quickly wiping her eyes she got up and strode quickly across the room. Her private chamber was one of a long corridor full of them, girls of different years. The next door room belonged to Jo, the rebellious kid but it was not her who had come out of the room. "Who are you?" asked Zenia, "how come you were in that room..." then she stopped, her eyes widening incredulously, "Adam?!" The girls eyes lowered guiltily, confirming Zenia's suspicions. "What on earth is going on?" she asked "Adam's my brother, but he was killed years ago, I was sent in his place. My name's Ada, I..." the girl's voice trembled violently, "I can't find Jo, pretty much all of her stuff has gone from her room and her horse isn't in the stables, she found out about me, I, I, I don't know what to do, I searched everwhere." And Ada broke down into sobs. Almost without realising what she was doing Zenia enclosed the pretty young girl in a warm embrace. "Come on, we'll go down to the stables, saddle up two horses and go and find her, she can't have got all that far and I'm pretty sure I can track her." Ada looked up at her, her bottom lip still trembling, "you think she ran away?" Zenia nodded, "it makes sense, but we can find her, I'm sure we can." And Zenia was sure too, somehow the whole idea had a sense of rightness about it. Butterfly had gone and there was little else to keep her here. "Come on," she said, leading the way to the stairs, "lets get out of here before a teacher finds us." |
| "Ok, I'm alright now, really I am. It's just that I've been my brother now for so long that I'm not sure who Ada is anymore. I'm not too bad at tracking, but I'm sure you're better so I won't interferre, I just have to talk to Jo and make her understand!" Ada shook her head and her short hair flicked around her stubborn face, still mostly wet from the showers. "Lead the way, although it might be better if I went on foot, I've never ridden a horse before...." Ebie adding a bit here, before we all go off on adventures... Just then, the fountain in the middle of the courtyard rang so loud the girls had to cover their ears. looking at eachother in shock, they ran outside to the cobbled stone circle and stood with the crowd that had already gathered. glancing around, zenia saw that Butterfly hadn't left yet. He met her eyes, unsmiling, and blushing painfully she looked away. Ada was blushing too; she was garnering wide eyed looks from her classmates. And just as quickly as the ringing had started, it stopped. The water in the fountain ceased to flow, falling and draining away, leaving the stone damp. As it did, Sage Goodman, Dean of the Oracle Academie, stepped forward, into the fountain, and onto the pedestal in the middle. Ada noticed with interest that it seemed to be made for this purpose. Sage motioned for the group to quiet and sit, and in a staggered group, they obeyed. Every child looked up at their dean in respect and worry, reflecting the concerned, serious look on the handsome man's tan face. "I have some very important announcements to make to you, my children." Sage intoned as he looked over each face. "many things have happened recently, most of which you know, some of which you don't. You most likely know by now that Seraphine and Quannik have been to see the oracle- Rumors have been running rampant." several guilty faces looked at eachother, and sage smiled grimly. "Yes, I know about it. I make a business to know what is happening in my school. But that will stop now, as I will tell you exactly what the oracle said. They have told us it is necessary for Quannik, Seraphine, Butterfly and Cala to go on a journey. The purpose of this journey is to retrieve a student who is currently in Zophia. Other than this, you have no need to know. You also may know by now that Jo has run away." as he said this, he looked directly at Ada and Zenia, and they stiffened. "At oracle academie, we pride orselves in giving our students an unequalled amount of freedom. If you want to go, then we do nothing to stop you. However, there are consequenses to every action. If you leave for any period of time, you lose important time in the classroom. In losing that time, you are endangering your grades. I don't know what schools were like in the places you came from but here, they are not easy. passing takes determination and hard work, and a visible dedication. If you are not here to demonstrate this, then you will be kept back a year. ada saw several people squirm in their seats, and she and zenia exchanged a look. Ada raised her hand, and sage looked at her. "yes?" "What happens when a student doesn't want to be here at all?" The dean smiled sadly. "well, they are free to go. all they have to do is ask." He sighed and looked over the group. "you are free to go." the children dispersed, talking quietly among themselves. Ada and zenia had turned to leave when ada felt a hand on her arm. she turned, and saw sage smiling down at her. "do you have a moment, my dear?" |
| Seraph, squinting at the bright rising sun, shifted her pack higher on her back, then whistled shrilly. Her companions, Cala, Butterfly and Qannik, winced, but her dog came trotting up, tongue lolling happily, to stand beside Gevira. Seraph moved a hand over Gevira's quivering shoulder, shooshing at her as the horse stamped. She looked to Cala, a question in her eyes. Cala nodded. "Start us off, Ser." Seraph nodded in return. They had decided that she would be the guide through Kulsaan, since she knew the country the best of the four. "Lets go then," she said. A sudden smile swept over her tan face. "By the end of the week, we'll be in my home!" And she kicked Gevira into a trot, the others following behind. |
| The first few days they spent traveling through the woods and fields of Kulsaan, camping beneath the spread of great oak trees. Now and then the forest would slowly thin and farmland would spring up only to be swallowed once again by trees. Cala knew these lands. She had slipped out to these woods for several tasks of Benjiro and sometimes for her own self, exploring them when she couldn’t sleep at night. They were relatively harmless, these woods. Sometimes she saw creatures slipping away through shadow that she didn’t recognize but they seemed relatively harmless. Nothing like some of the jungles in Thana where some trees would drip acid on a hapless traveler or refugee. She had been wary of forests until she came to Oracle, but these were pleasant and peaceful. It took them several days to pass through the forest. Once, they stopped in a village and Cala treated them to beds and a hot dinner, a reward for the travel. They need time to rest, to get to know each other better. We are still too much like strange cats for my liking. We need to be able to trust each other…to know each other better. Besides, rest while we can. We may not be able to later. It was that night she cupped her hands around a mug of hot cider and said words that had been on her tongue since the tavern before the trip. “Look,” she said to them voice low and hair catching with the strands of darkness. “I need to speak to you, to all of you. We are all here, together, on this mission, quest, adventure…whatever word you would like to put to it. We. The four of us. Whether we want to be here or not, we are here together and who knows what we are going to go through. I don’t…and that scares the hell out of a part of me. But for some reason or another, I’ve been assigned as the leader of this group and I want you to know that I respect each one of you. We’re a small group, and so I do not plan on treating you like peons. You all individuals with individual skills, talents, ideas, and abilities that I do not possess. So I respect your opinions. I want to hear them. If you have a better idea, speak up. If you know the land, speak up and I will expect you to take the lead. And if you have something you need to talk about, don’t be afraid to speak up then too. In situations, I expect you to use your intelligence guided by experience. However, I am still your commander and there are things I know that you do not. I expect you to remember that. Most importantly, it is necessary we work together. If you act out of your own self interest you could destroy us all. We can’t have rifts between us, we must be strong or we won’t survive.” The last was directed toward Butterfly. She still didn’t understand what was wrong, but she could sense something off about him, in his manner or his moods. Trees thinned to grasslands as they moved on, and here Cala felt more comfortable. Here she could see the stars, read them, see their stories across the sky. The territory was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Grass, not like home, but from somewhere farther away. Yellow but tall and waving among rocks and lakes, seen from between the slats of boards. As they moved deeper into grassland, the soil became sandier and Seraph began to look more and more nervous. It was so much colder there, though. Colder than home, colder than here…Cala was lost in thought when Seraph called a halt. The Thanian looked at her questioningly and Seraph took a breath and spoke. “We’re going to have to stop to get clothing. The desert is a hot, and has an unforgiving sun but…it’s still beautiful…” her voice trailed off and she suddenly shook herself. “White is a good color to dress in. It will reflect the sun and keep you cooler. I’m afraid,” her face twisted and her eyes flashed, “I might need a disguise.” “Why?” That was Qannik, her voice quiet. Butterfly frowned and cocked his head at Seraph but asked her nothing. “According to the map, we should be at the edge of the desert by tomorrow at least. And there’s a town nearby, we can stop there.” “The society…it’s patriarchal isn’t it,” Cala asked, look absently off into the distance. Seraph nodded. “I’m afraid they won’t really talk to you…or to me, or to Qannik.” Cala pursed her lips and nodded. Butterfly doesn’t speak Kulsaani so Seraph will still have to translate. Needing a disguise is not good. However, the Patriarchal society will put us at an advantage. They’ll underestimate us, and the moves across the board are wide open. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly with a bitter smile to Butterfly, “you don’t have much choice, but you’re going to have to speak for us. You ready for that, lad?” |
| "Don't call me that," Butterfly snapped back. "I told you, I'm not a kid anymore." He rolled to his feet and stomped off to where the horses were busy stuffing their faces; pretending to tend to his, but Cala could see he was trembling with harshly-supressed emotion. Fear, or anger, or sorrow, or something else altogether, she didn't know. She rolled her eyes and went after him, determined now to sort this out before his strange behaviour could put them all in danger. Coming around to face him over the back of his horse, she grabbed his sleeve before he could turn away again. "What's your problem?" "Which one?" "The one that results in you being evil-tempered, surly, snappish and a danger to our mission." "Oh. That one. I don't know either, maybe it's being treated like a little boy when I offer to help, and then suddenly ordered to go along on a fool's errand on the flimsiest grounds that I've ever heard." Aware that his voice was rising, he switched to Thanian, not wanting the younger girls to understand his tirade; and Cala understood, then, that this was the dam bursting. Butterfly had always been angry underneath, but now he was angry all the way through. "Whether fate exists or not I don't care, but it's still a damn stupid reason to send people into danger that nobody even knows the shape of. It's plain to see you know more than you're letting on - hell, you said as much yourself. I don't want to work for you. If you want me to work with you, it'd be both useful and polite to tell me what is actually going on. Or, if having secrets makes you feel special, you can keep them - but don't expect me to be rapturously pleased when you use information I haven't seen to make decisions I can't argue with about taking a risk I don't understand. I'm not afraid. But I hate being in the dark. And, to answer your question, of course I'm not ready to speak for anyone but myself, though I'll do it anyway for the hell of it." In the silence after the storm, Cala let go of Butterfly's sleeve and nodded to herself. "It's Zenia, isn't it?" "Yeah," he admitted, calmer now. "And you want to go back to Thana." "I'm going to." A spark of determination flashed through his angry green eyes. "But I'll see this charade out first. If you ask me to." "I'm asking you to, then. On the terms I set out earlier. That you'll stop snapping and sulking, and follow my lead when I ask you to, and keep your own agenda for a time when it won't endanger us as well." Butterfly shrugged, and ran a thin hand through his scraggly hair. "Alright." Then, perversely and unexpectedly, he let out a bitter spear of laughter. "But my 'agenda', Cala, will touch you no matter when I choose to follow it. I'm going to change the world, see? And however much you pretend, you're not really Andirian." He turned, and called to the other girls. "Should we go, then? No sense in wasting time." *** It was late morning when they arrived at the dusty little town, clinging ferociously to the edge of the fertile lands before the desert began. It was a stopping-place for travellers more than a place to live; over-heavy with inns, stables, and a sprawling market where the treasures and goods of the desert were exchanged with those of the green country. They found a place to keep the horses, and went shopping. Few vendors spoke very good Common, so communication was a shambolic affair: translating through Seraph worked fine, the Kulsaani usually preferring to pretend the girl wasn't there at all and speak directly to Butterfly, though now and again one or the other grew impatient and lapsed into a comedy of Common, sign-language, and bits and scraps of every language under the sun. After a mere hour of this, Butterfly was grinning hugely, having to forcibly choke his laughter back. The place stank of stories, beginnings, new roads to travel - though danger was ever-present; in the narrow alleys that were slashes of shade in the bright, burning sunshine; in the covert interest directed now and then at Qannik and Seraph; in the currents and coils of wilderness, wildness, that paced through the sandy streets like tigers. It was burning, parching afternoon before everything was completed, and then Seraph wouldn't let them set off again. Relaxing in the shade of an inn-garden, she explained firmly that travelling in the desert, in the early afternoon, was not something one did. "The sun doesn't like us," she explained, her face animated as the thought of her home possessed her. "Travel in the morning, and the cool of the evening. Rest during the hottest part of the day. It's the only possible way to travel through the desert." "How far is it to the nearest port?" Cala asked Butterfly. "Assuming no trouble along the way, and we stick to the road?" "Three days, maybe four if we take our time over it. Assuming no trouble." "Is that a fair assumption?" Seraph held her breath for a second, considering. "Serious trouble probably won't bother with us." "In that case, we'll start as early as possible tomorrow morning." Butterfly grinned savagely. "Oh, I do love charging off into the unknown." ~*Note from the mod: Hi guys! This is WithyWindle, I'll be the mod for this campfire while Ebie is at camp. If you've got any questions, concerns, or whatnot, feel free to let me know. I'll be transmitting info to and from Ebie while moding. On that note, to let everyone know, that while in Kulsaan, Seraph will not be liked because she is a Yeshaian, hence her reason for wanting a disguise. In your entries, don't forget that they need to pass through Yeshai lands to see Seraph's family. Good updates, keep 'em coming  . |
| (Meanwhile back in Oracle) The Dean had kept a heavy hand on Ada's shoulder as they walked back to his office. When they arrived there Dean Sage pointed solemly at a chair and shut the door in Zenia's face who must have followed them back to the office. "I am most uncertain what to say to you Adam," Sage's face looked most unpleasant as he grimaced and changed her name, "I meant to say 'Ada'. Obviously the oracle must have known of your true identity or else you would," Dean Sage was interrupted by a knock at the door and while Ada thanked whatever nameless God had been responsible, Sage opened the door and very nearly killed the poor student standing outside the door. "This had better be very important!" Odd, Ada thought, she got the feeling that usually the Dean was a very nice man, perhaps he did not enjoy being lied to. "It is a message from the oracle, sir." The student bowed and left the scrap of parchment in the startled Dean's hand before running for the sanctity of his life. The dean opened the parchment and then crushed it ruthlessly into a ball. Ada did not need to be a reader of persons to know that whatever was written in that note was not something that the Dean had enjoyed reading, not at all! "You have been sent for, by the oracle. I have no one to spare to guide you up the mountain. There is a road though, up the mountain that leads to the Deep Spring, it is the source of all the water that flows through Oracle and besides that it is quite unmistakable. You are dismissed Ada," he seemed to stop and think better of his harsh words, while Ada was not crying there was a most peculiar knot in her throat. "Ada, I am sorry for having spoken so harshly to you. It is only that you have thrown me off my stride and I do not enjoy that feeling, you are free to go." As Ada had expected, Zenia was just outside the door. "What did he want?" "I'm not certain he actually got around to what he wanted to say, although it probably would have leaned towards kicking me out of the school. Zenia, if you don't want to come anymore I'll understand. I have to got to the oracle before I do anything and I am most uncertain as to what that will mean for Jo." She paused for a moment and waited for Zenia's reply. She stood taller than Zenia, her short blonde hair bothering her left eye, but Ada refused to let in and brush it away. The shirt showed off a modest size bust and the pants were fashionable, in short Ada was everything she never thought she would be. Zenia only shook her head and mumbled something about needing some supplies before taking Ada's hand and leading her off in the general direction of the kitchens. It was midday before they set out for the oracle and Zenia had expressed numerous doubts about actually finding the Oracle, she had never been and neither had Ada. Ada whistled sharply and Artemis flew down to her shoulder. "Hello old friend, did you do the errand I asked of you?" Artemis tugged on her ear in their sign for yes and I love you. "Very good, do you think you can guide us from the ground?" Artemis tugged on her ear again and then flew off, leaving a bruise through the padding on Ada's shoulder. "Are you seriously trusting a bird to guide us to the Oracle?" "Not just any bird, Artemis. He's been with me for a long time and I am quite certain that he knows the way better than the teachers already. It certainly wouldn't surprise me. Any other questions?" They had started off, Ada with her rugged walking stick and Zenia with most of the supplies, mainly food but she had some weapons on her, in a bag. "Just one, what exactly is in that sling of yours?" Zenia pointed with a long finger to the scrap of fabric slung across Ada's muscled shoulders. Ada patted the bulge at the bottom of the sling. "It's a gift, and my responsibility. The little guy rejected Seraphine, and since I got it for her it's my responsibility." "But what is it?" "Silly it's a dragon cub." __________________________ Hey Guys! Looks like I got skipped, but the advantage of being the Head Pyro means that I can just slip my edition right in. You know, if you ever get skipped, and want to send me an addition a little bit late, I can do it for you to. I got the connections. Seraphine heaved a sigh of relief as they left the town behind. The others seemed wel enough at ease- butterfly and Qannik were still grinning, Qannik laughing at his impression of one of the ridiculous traders that they had run across. Seraph, on the other hand, was so nervous her stomach was in knots. So nervous, that even though the temperature was rising by the minute, she was still wrapped in her burnoose, a heavy veil down over her face. She heard, rather than saw Butterfly draw up beside her on his new horse. The whole group had traded their horses and some silver for three Desert Horses like Seraph’s, upon her urging. She had assured them that the headmaster wouldn’t mind, that the trade was worth having tougher, smarter horses. Butterfly’s little mare pranced alongside Gevira, reflecting the young man’s sprightly mood. “Hey Sarie, why are you still all bundled? And whats with the veil? Did you break out or something, and not want the rest of us to see your ugly face?” Seraph laughed grimly along with him. “Just trust me. I have my reasons.” Butterfly shook his head. “You’re gonna die in that thing. You’ll melt right off your horse. Come on, take it off.” “He’s right Seraphine.” Added Cala. “we won’t have enough water to keep you hydrated if you keep all that on.” Seraph’s mind reeled, flitting from ideas of how to keep her disguise to morbid imaginings of what might happen to her if she took it off. “but they don’t know. They don’t understand.” She thought to herself. “Even if I explained it, they haven’t encountered anything like this before. Not even in Thana. They’ll have to see for themselves.” Swollowing the tight ball of fear in her throat, Seraph reached up and pulled off the veil. Her tan face was pale, her grey eyes wide. “alright.” She replied. “I’ll take it off, but when we get into a town, you’ll see my reasons.” The mood slightly dampened, the others all stealing looks at the grim faced Seraph, they rode on. Okay, now I’ll explain what seraph is facing. The Yeshaia are visibly different from the other Kulsaanis. Their skin is lighter tan or light olive tones, where the Kulsaanis are dark tan to brown. Their noses are thinner and longer, often hooked or hawk like, or straight and aquiline. Other than that, they look the same, but there is deep-seated hatred for the Yeshaia in Kulsaan. They have been pushed into the desert, and when they come through the towns, they face race crimes and fierce prejudice. Seraph is obviously Yeshaian. Her pale tan skin, her hawk nose and angular face, and above all her strange grey eyes, are going to set her apart. Though she is afraid, she is also defiant, because of her strong sense of right and wrong. The injustice infuriates her. The others will need to watch her. |
| "Better run, desert rat!" "Back to your hole!" "Dog!" "Waste of sand!" One of the boys darted in close, close enough to throw a stone, almost making Gevira shy away. Seraph turned a burning gaze away from the pack, turning automatically to head right back out of the scrappy, dusty little town they'd just ridden into. Illuminated by the bloody rays of the setting sun, the pack of children looked like wild animals: swarming chaotically around the three horses, hurling stones and taunts at the Yeshai girl who stood out here like a candle-flame in the darkness underneath the world. Qannik huddled closer to her, gripping to balance on the skittering horse, her eyes tight-shut; afraid of the tidal waves of aggression rolling over them - she'd seen dogs like this before, sometimes, in a mad frenzy, but to see people act in this way - children whose leader might just be older than Seraph herself - was stranger than anything else she'd seen since her plunge from the comfort of the icy places into this bizarre world of Academies and forests and Oracles and now deserts, which were as far removed from her home as she could imagine... and somehow this strange world had swallowed her brother whole, without a trace, and here she was trying to find him by digging deeper and deeper into the hostile unknown. Qannik was jerked from her reverie by Butterfly's snarling voice, himself sounding almost as animalistic as their attackers. Opening her eyes, she saw the boy slide off his horse - Cala took hold of its reins, worry creasing her face still further - and stride belligerently up to the largest and oldest and fiercest of the Kulsaani pack. This was the second village they'd come to so far, the second time they'd recieved such a bad reception: the first time Seraph had choked her angry resentment down and led them straight back out into the desert. This time, though, before she had the chance, Butterfly had taken her defiance and his own spitting fury and forged them into something, oddly, resembling happiness. A perverse sort of exhilarated thrill. And now he was picking a fight with the leader of the pack - alpha male - speaking the international language of impending violence. "Stop it," Cala said firmly, but he only shot her a derisive look. "Either me or Seraph is going to get hurt by these... kuleihe... and my mother tried to make me a gentleman." "Butterfly, don't, let's just go... we can get to the coast without stopping here." He wasn't listening, mostly by reason of the grubby fist rapidly approaching his face. Cala urged her horse a step or two forward, ready to join in should the need arise, but the fight was short and brutal and ended in the Kulsaani boy sitting in the dust clutching a bloody nose, having just been on the recieving end of a savage headbutt. "Right, very noble, and now we have to leave very quickly before their fathers and older brothers get here." The pack jeered at them as they turned and left, going almost fast enough to qualify as fleeing, Butterfly's victory reduced to nothing by the shameful act. The thought made his face burn and his guts twist - he tried to tell himself that there was no way staying to get pulverised would have lessened the amount of racist hatred Seraph's kin suffered, but still, it stung. "Thanks, by the way," Seraph said, once they were far enough away to ride slowly and be able to speak once more. The desert twilight didn't hang around, but in its early pearl-blue glow, her grey eyes gleamed brightly. "I know it might not have done any good, but I feel slightly better now." Butterfly grinned. "One day when I'm done sorting out Thana, how about I come down here and give you a hand setting Kulsaan to rights?" "Implying that I can't sort out my own country by myself?" "Mostly just trying to be friendly, actually." Butterfly tensed as he heard Cala begin to speak. "Yes, that was stupid, and no, I won't make a habit of it, and please, can you leave it out?" Cala was vaguely offended by his assumption that she was about to reprimand him; the fact that he'd assumed correctly didn't make things much easier. On the surface, their relationship had healed pretty well, but beneath it was still tight enough to dance on. "We were probably going to have to camp in the desert again tonight anyway," she admitted. "Then I suggest we move quicker, for longer, to cut this part of the trip as short as it can be." "Tomorrow," Butterfly replied, to an unasked question. "If we're quick, we'll get into port tomorrow." "If we're quick, and don't let our tempers run away too much," Cala amended, knowing that the point was valid for Seraph as well - possibly more so than for Butterfly, who'd already had his fun. The Yeshaian girl was silent as the grave, which to Cala's mind spelled mostly trouble. |
There came a day when Qannik didn't close her eyes in terror as the horse moved underneath her. There came a day some time later when she could sit down without wincing and without having to rub her legs and knees with salve. There came a day not too long after where she could sit and think while Gevira was moving without worry for herself on horseback tinging the edge of her awareness. There even came a day when Qannik realized she liked riding and could contemplate a day when she held the reins of her very own Gevira. Then one day, crossing into the edges of the port town of Seya, Qannik went completely limp, sagging against Seraph, and moaning slightly. While not particularly talkative before, Qannik had asked plenty of questions about the desert land and had looked forward to being in port, something more familiar to her. Seraph, riding behind Cala, pulled Gevira to a halt, just as Butterfly kicked his horse even with her. "What's happened?" asked Seraph, turning around in the saddle. Butterfly reached out to Qannik, calling to stop Cala who was already turning around after sensing the others' halt. "What's going on?" she asked. "Don't know," Butterfly replied, shrugging, "But it looks like Qannik's passed out." "Well, doubtless she's just tired, like the rest of us," sighed Cala. "Soon's we can get rooms and rest, the better we'll all be." Seraph eyed Qannik, now draped across Butterflys saddle. "I don't know, you guys," she said,"I thought I heard her say something, you know, before she passed out." "Well, she's still breathing," said Cala briskly, "so let's all think positively, okay? We're almost to the inn." "And real cooked food!" added Butterfly. "And showers!" added Seraph. Cala laughed. "C'mon, then!" * * * Qannik opened her eyes to see darkness . . night had come. She groaned as she levered herself to a sitting position. She felt completely wore out, every muscle sore, and with a raging headache. She licked dry lips and tried to figure out where she was. Even in the gloom she could make out trees. As her eyes adjusted, she could see more and more, and none of it was familiar. Tall, green poplar trees and sycamores, with ferny underbrush and what might have been the eyes of a chipmunk. An owl hooted from somewhere behind her and an odd, watery-crashing sound, like a waterfall, but different. She couldn't place the noise. She rubbed dry, gritty eyes and turned in all directions, looking for something - anything - that might be familiar and thus be comforting. She seemed to be in the center of a carefully swept clearing. The remains of a campfire, cold, surrounded by smooth, rounded stones rested within hand's reach. A path led off to the right, into the trees. Standing up carefully, Qannik started down the path. White, reflective stones edged the trail, making it easy to follow. Whomever used this path must be used to traveling it in the dark. She looked up, to the stars, but they were covered in clouds. Only the moon glowed dully from the west. Taking a deep breath, Qannik stepped under the trees and stepped along the path. The trail went up slightly, winding along a natural trail through the slightly mountainous terrain. Qannik was even more tired, and breathing hard, before the path suddenly opened up into a large courtyard, and a small cottage square in the middle. A warm, golden light shown from behind the papered windows, and smoke wound lazily up from the chimney. Her stomach rumbling, Qannik hurried to the door and knocked. The door swung open. Man and child stared at each other in amazement. "You!" cried Qannik, stepping back in both fear and anger. "Wait!" shouted the shaman at the same time. He let his arms fall to his sides. "Please! Come inside. We must talk." He spoke softly, and slowly, having no wish to run off this strange girl-child. Qannik regarded him suspiciously for long minutes. "How do I know I can trust you?" The shaman shrugged. "You can't, but possibly there is one here who you must see." That decided her. She rushed forward. "Let me see him! Let me see my brother!" Kafele stepped aside. "Come in, child." He pointed to the back of his hut. "Your brother is there, behind the curtain." He followed her as she ran across the room. "Wait!" he called, as her hand reached up to brush the hide aside. "Your brother is .. he is very ill." Qannik went beyond, to a room familiar to her from a dream. Against one wall was the low bed and her brother. A candle on a stool cast his face into shadow. "Oh, Arrluk," she whispered, falling to her knees by his side. She grabbed one of his hands, pressing it to her face. Tears of relief mingled with tears of anger and worry. His skin was very hot. "I thought the fever was gone," said the shaman softly from the doorway. He made no move to approach. "But he could not eat. Too weak. Thus, the fever attacks again, with greater force." Looking over her shoulder at the shaman, Qannik blinked through her tears. In this light, the shaman seemed both more menacing than ever, but also kinder, softer, more a weary old man than an evil druid. Even the animal skins he wore seemed tired. She looked back at her brother, moving to perch on the edge of the bed and gaze down into his face. His skin glistened with sweat and he moved restlessly under the fur blankets. "Arrluk," she called to him. "Arrluk, can you hear me?" More tears spilled down her cheeks. Even to her eyes, and in the dark, Arrluk was impossibly thin and gaunt, his skin almost transparent in its thinness. "What has happened?" she asked. "He seemed to well, last time I saw him." "I have theories," Kafele answered, "but they are, after all, only theories." "What have you given him?" The shaman shrugged helplessly. "I know nothing of healing, child, I could only give him some tea and broth that I eat." Qannik concentrated on the problem at hand, pushing off her fatigue. "What kind? What kind of tea?" Kafele ducked back into the other room and returned with some plants that he showed her. Frowning, Qannik thought. Raspberry tea was good for fevers, she had seen the Mog-ur use raspberry once. What else? What else could she use now, what was stronger, but wouldn't further hurt Arrluk? Then, she reconsidered. Breaking the fever was more important at this stage. If she couldn't stop it, Arrluk would die. "Let me see your herbs," she said. The shaman watched as she went through his things, sniffing each packet of dried flowers and herbs carefully, but thoroughly, and sometimes many times, as if she wasn't sure about its identity. Some of the things Kafele wasn't sure himself why he'd picked and stored. He didn't have much use for herbs himself, except in how he could make variations in tea. He had a certain weakness for tea. But at last he saw her settle on a few pouches; three, ginger, garlic, and mint, he recognized. He was a little surprised he had any garlic left. It did not grow around here. Perhaps in his fondness for it, he'd hoarded a bit away. He gave her an inquiring glance as she filled pots with water from the barrel outside and set them over the fire. "I am sorry, but I do not know their names in this language," she said. She held up one. "I think, Lemon salve? perhaps, but good for making sweat. Strong, maybe too strong, but the fever must break soon. This other is good to . . to stimulate," she paused, frowning at her incomplete vocabulary. "Nevermind, child. Will this help?" She gave him a frightened look. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe send him faster to the spirits." She stared at him. "Why do you have my brother?" He sighed. "I found him, on the beach." He pointed back out to the south-west. "Hurt, and too ill to crawl any further. I thought the gods had sent me there that day to find him." "Who are you?" He smiled, bowed a little from his seated position. "They call me Kafele. It means to die for." He shrugged at her astonished expression. "My father had many daughters. No sons. It is important where I come from, to have sons." He rocked back, staring abstractly at a corner of the ceiling. "It has also served to remind me, at times, of my conscience, to keep to what I believe is right." "You live here alone?" A nod. "Yes. There is much to like. I am thankful for this existence." Although the strange little man in his ill-made clothes seemed harmless enough, to Qannik there still seemed to be something not quite right. Dangerous even. His inferior manner was at odds with the supreme confidence he exuded. "What do you do here?" He glanced over at her sharply. "Is it not enough simply to live?" he asked. "I do not believe you!" Qannik blurted. She blushed, not having meant to say that aloud. To her surprise, however, he laughed. "Smart child," he said, giving her a queer look. "I have waited here for many years," he continued after a long pause. "Perhaps my waiting is over." "Why do y--" He interrupted: "The water boils." Successfully distracted, Qannik set some of the leaves to steep for tea, and proceeded to mash another of the bundles of leaves into a paste, adding more water and other herbs as she went, ending up with a thick, greenish plaster. When she had decided the tea was ready, she carried both into the sleeping chamber. "He needs to drink," she said, directing Kafele to hold up her brother while she fed him the tea. She had to rub his throat at first to stimulate the throat to swallow, but she was able to get him to drink the whole bowl. Laying him down once more, Qannik spread the other goo over her brother's chest and replacing his covers. "Now," she said. "We wait." "You should rest, too." "No!" She shivered, unsure why she felt so strongly, but she could not sleep, not yet. "Tell me," she continued in a softer voice, "Why are you here? Why come here?" He leaned against a low, padded bench, regarding her seriously. He hadn't quite believed it when she'd turned up at his doorstep. It had been more than a day since he'd completed the ritual, to call her, and he'd thought that he'd failed. He felt for the missing crystal at his throat. He was taking a big risk, not wearing his crystal; its magic was the only barrier he had to the Oracles. Without it, they might be able to find him, force him back. They had sent her that first time, their magic had been strong in her aura when she'd come that last time. The crystal had forced her back and must've still sensed their magic for she hadn't been back since. Until tonight. "Kafele?" He started. Smiled. "I apologize, child, I forget myself. I am not accustomed to company." "Why are you here?" she prompted. He smiled, but his eyes were suddenly very far away. "I am here because I saw a future that no one else saw -- I saw that I would be needed, one day, to guide some lost souls." He was looking at her again. "Perhaps that is you." Kafele rose and went into the other room. Qannik huddled beside her brother, watching him the night through, and thinking about the queer things the shaman had said. From time to time, she crept into the other room, where Kafele slept, and she made tea, helping her brother to drink. By morning, her eyes were burning from exhaustion and she had run out of ingredients. She knelt by her brother's side and felt for the beat of his heart, and felt a strong thump-thump that brought tears of joy to her face. She pressed her brother's hand to her cheek, wishing, willing her own strength to flow into her brother, wanting, needing, demanding the fever to lessen and her brother to gain back in health. The shaman woke with a start, as if someone had just kicked him. He sat up, all the hairs standing up from his body with the strong aura of magic, an unfamiliar magic overflowing his own, humbler magics. He strode into the other room. The little eskimo girl knelt beside her brother, his hand in both of hers and pressed to her face. She glowed. He glowed. They both seemed to pulse in a cadence like, like a heartbeat! "What are you doing?" he shouted, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her. She screamed, a soft, mewling sound, falling limply into his arms. The boy on the bed sat up, staring at both of them in something like a cross between horror and wonder. Flakes of that plaster she'd used fell, unheeded, from his chest. "Qannik?" Arrluk called, falling forward onto his side and stretching out his hand to her. Even as he watched Qannik was fading ... and soon vanished from his sight and the shaman's arms. The two men, one old, one young, gazed at each other in horrified, frightened silence. * * * Seraph called to the others as she saw Qannik beginning to stir. They were all there when the little girl opened her eyes at last, at long last, after three days of a death-like slumber. Seraph touched her hesitantly. "Qannik? Qannik, are you okay?" Cala, Butterfly, and Cala stared at each other in bewilderment as Qannik rolled away from them, silently weeping. |
| Zenia walked along quietly beside Ada as they followed the large black bird winding it's way up the mountain. She could just see Sassy following them through the undergrowth; she had changed her shape to a lynx so as to have the best chance of keeping up and not being seen. She desperately wanted to talk to Sassy and was toying with the idea of telling Ada about the magical Felin. "Do you think it's much further?" asked Ada suddenly, "It seems never ending to me." Zenia shrugged, "ask your Artemis," she said then immediately felt bad for being rude. It was happening more and more lately, she found herself caring what people thought of her and she knew Butterfly was to blame for that. "Sorry," she apologised, tearing her mind away from a boy she'd probably never see again, "I'm just tired." "S'okay," replied Ada in a friendly voice. There was a pause then, " so where're you from?" Zenia considered the question, "all over really," she replied, "my family are gypsies, we go where-ever there's work. They're in the Shards at the moment but I expect they'll move again soon." "So how will you find them again?" Zenia felt a rush of gratitude that the girl did not appear to have judged her on how she lived, it loosened her tongue considerably and she surprised herself by telling Ada about her life. "All I have to do is head for any major festivals, somewhere where entatainers or craftsmen are needed. If my family is not there another gypsy clan who has news of them will be." Ada nodded her understanding. There seemed to be another question hovering on the girls lips but she seemed slightly embaressed to ask. "Ask away," said Zenia encouragingly, "I'm in a surprisingly talkative mood today." "Why do you wear those clothes?" Blurted Ada, then instantly turned red. Zenia looked down at her short skirt, boots and swathe of material around her chest and almost laughed, "in my culture it is considered indescant to cover up too much of your body, though I am finding it to be exactly the opposite around here. I hope my attire doesn't offend you but I'm just not comfortable in anything else." Ada grinned, "doesn't bother me although I must say it was pretty funny seeing the scandalized looks some people in the town were giving you!" Zenia laughed, "I don't doubt it." The girls laughter was cut short as Zenia suddenly stumbled. Her fall surprised her as much as it did Ada, who'd linked her arm into hers and the two girls went crashing down. Zenia was shocked - she was usually so sure footed, why had she suddenly fallen? Picking herself up she looked down at the ground but could not see a reason for her fall. "Are you alright?" asked Ada, picking herself up and brushing the dust from her knees, "what did you trip on?" "I've no idea," confessed Zenia confusedly then shrugged and got to her feet, making to follow Ada who had started up the path again but found that she could not. There was an invisible wall of energy in front of her, preventing her from moving any further up the path. "What the hell?" came Ada's voice from further up the path, "whats stopping you going forward?" Zenia surveyed the seemingly empty stretch of path, "must be the Oracle," she said eventually, "because you were called and I wasn't, it won't let me pass. We must be getting close." Ada suddenly looked scared but covered it upalmost instantly, her voice however still had a slight waver to it, "I've got to go on alone?" "I suppose so, I'll wait right here for you, and take one of the packs of food, I don't know how much hospitality you're going to find up there." Ada nodded and came back to relive Zenia of one of the packs, "I'll be back as soon as I can," she told the gypsy girl. Zenia watched as Ada continued up the path, led by Artemis still flying high above. Once the girl had turned a corner Zenia whistled quietly and was rewarded to the sight of Sassy padding out of the undergrowth. "So now we wait I suppose," she said to the sleek Lynx who only nodded in response, "I wonder how long she'll be." "Not to long I don't think," replied Sassy who had lain down on the dusty path and began to clean her coat, "and by the way you are going to have to tell that girl about me because I am not going all the way back down through that bloody jungle; my fir is all standing on end." Zenia looked around slightly alarmed, "are you sure? Can we trust her?" "You've got to trust someone," replied the Felin, "I thought you learnt that with Butterfly." Zenia blushed at the sound of his name, wishing yet again that she'd handled the whole situation better. If only she'd not pushed him away, even if she couldn't let him come closer. Unsuccessfully she tried to put him out of her mind but he kept sliding back. She sighed and sat down next to Sassy, cudling up to the warm fur, wondering if Butterfly would ever return and how she would react when he did; would he even remember her? She had done nothing but push him away. |
| Seraphine wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, and smoothed back her hair, as she looked over the expanse of desert in front of her and her friends. They had passed the last town without stopping, fearing that there would be problems again- and next time, it might not be little boys. Seraph turned and smiled at Qannik, taking the others in at the same time. “we head straight south. If we stop for rests at the wells along the way, we’ll be there by nightfall.” Cala nodded. “Fine. Lets get going.” They kicked their horses forward and set off across the dunes, Kofer trotting beside them. Seraph, settling in to the rhythm of Gevira’s walk easily, squinted at the early morning sun, and heaved a happy sigh. She felt a poke on her arm, and looked over. Butterfly was there, peering at her quizzically. “what?” The boy struggled to frame his question. Ever since they had passed the last town, the girl’s intensity had seemed to trickle away. “You’re not all spark and fire today, Sarie. Why so mellow?” Seraph thought for a moment, then grinned at the boy. “The desert is fierce enough without my help. I’m off duty.” eleven hours later: Four exhausted children rode into the Yeshaia camp that night. Even in their exhaustion, Cala, Butterfly and Qannik stared at the seemingly endless miles of white tents. People pored out into the makeshift streets to watch the children pass, their eyes flitting over the three foreigners before coming to rest on Seraphine. As she rode by, the people touched two fingers to their foreheads. “why are they doing that, Seraph?” Qannik whispered softly into her friends ear. “it’s like bowing.” Seraphine replied. “It is a show of respect.” They finally arrived at a tent not unlike the others. It was white and square, it’s roof coming up in a pyramid from each of the corners. This tent, however, was decorated with a strange symbol, much like the Oracle Academie crest. A sheaf of grain with waves on either side, above that a raven and a dove. At this tent Seraphine slid off of Gevira’s back and called out in a strange language. “Tov Dullad, Abbo, Ammo!” Three people ran out of the tent to stare at her, wide eyed; a young man of about twenty, an older one, stocky with graying black hair and a grizzly beared, and a beautiful woman, her long dark hair also streaked with grey, her brown eyes filled with tears. No one moved. “Tam Lev! What are you doing here?” Seraph asked in surprise. The thin young man shrugged. “I got tired of wandering.” “Oh.” Said seraph lamely. She looked at the three people in front of her, her eyes resting finally on the slender woman. “Ammo.” She murmered softly. With that all three moved forward and enveloped her in a massive hug. The other children smiled as they heard seraph shout happily, “I’m home!” |
| It’s beautiful here, in the desert, at night. The sun set in a ball of fire, turning the horizon into a vision of purples, golds, and turning the high sandstone plateaus to rosewood. Now, as I sit here in robes of white, the stars have never been clearer high in the sky above me. It’s peaceful, so peaceful and I hope it will soothe my soul. The people here match the spirit of the desert. There is viciousness, pride, and yet still beauty. They wear the white robes to cure the heat, but I am surprised they ride horses for horses are thirsty beasts. Out beyond me I can see the haunting form of sandmen, creatures formed by the desert out of sand and wind. They are a sign of safety, good omens, and those are things we will need. Out behind me, behind this dune white tents are lined up like soldiers, warm light cutting through the darkness beyond the flaps. My own breath mists. It’s cold here, in the desert, at night. I do not know why I am doing this, writing in this journal I mean. I never understood the compulsion to write anything down. It’s too revealing and leaves the writer naked. But generals down to the lowliest travelers did it and so I try now and I’m finding that it helps, just a little, but it helps. I almost wish I had kept something similar of my other travels half a lifetime ago. But so much of what I saw was only seen between slats of wood. I don’t know what I am doing here, in this position, in this role that was placed upon me. I am not a leader, and I’m afraid I’m going to kill everyone with my own ineptitude. I don’t want this role and I am not ready for it. Sometimes I wonder if the others sense that too. Especially Butterfly. But I do what I have to, I can do anything I have to and I will keep all these people in my party safe. I will. I must. I am stuck, though, and I’m afraid they do not trust me (but can I blame them?). Butterfly confronted me saying that I am not sharing everything I know. And he’s right, I am not. But how can I share experience? How can I share what I know? What has been honed by survival, fear, and then more that flows naturally through my blood, no matter how much I hate it. And how can I share what I have seen and been subjected to. No, I would never do that to anyone. I am afraid also for Butterfly. He’s a fighter, in his own way, with a ferocity that matches the desert in his soul. I am afraid of the anger that lurks behind it for that anger uncontrolled, unhoned, can be dangerous. Never attack in anger, never be angry when you fight. Seraph I am equally afraid for because I have never seen her explode. She is more my quiet time bomb, maybe she will and maybe she won’t. I am proud of her, for dealing with the prejudice the way she did. It’s hard, I know that and I know that well. Hate begets hate begets hate and the cycle must stop somewhere. How often we forget that. That is why I will never become part of an army like Benjiro says, like people say my so called ‘fate’ must be. And Qannik? I do not know. She is still a mystery to me. But she is quiet and even more mystery lurks behind her eyes. A mystery wrapped in enigma and it would stupid and foolish of me to simply pass her off as a little girl. Aren’t I doing a fantastic job? An unsure party on an unsure mission with a little girl who would be better off tending sheep. The Faceless Knight has ridden into the sky now on his peacock, but the lady he is to defend has not yet come. That’s unusual. Maybe it is because I am in a different place. I will not be sleeping tonight. No matter how much I pretend, I’m not Andirian. She shut the small, leather bound book and wrapped it as tightly as she could, noting how the leather thongs were positioned so she would know if anyone read it. Then, she stuck it in a hidden compartment of her pack. It would be safe there. Rising gracefully from the sand, she went in search of Butterfly. He would be out, he had to be. His mind was too curious and able to expect him to go to sleep this early, especially among these people. She passed through the shadows of the tents, knowing she was being watched as a foreigner among these people. It was a different board now, a different game. Butterfly was hardly recognizable, but she found his walk and caught his elbow. “I would like a copy of the route we are to take to port by the end of the night, please,” she said, keeping her voice low. “And,” she added, voice turning flinty, “that was phenomenally stupid.” Both she and he knew what she was referring to. “You do not solve prejudice with a sword. Ever.” She released his elbow as he snorted. “Then what was I supposed to do? Sit there and let them insult Seraph? Throw stones at us? No, I wasn’t going to let that injustice go.” “And what did you accomplish, Butterfly?” She replied, voice a little tense. “They’ll think twice before insulting someone again.” “Yes,” Cala agreed, “they will. But do you think it will make them hate any less? Hate is the problem, not tongues or stones, and now those boys will hate even more.” She paused and shook her head. “I want those routes by the end of the night.” And she left him there under the Faceless Knight, who rode on a starry peacock in search of his missing lady. |
| Faceless Knight used to be called Quetzal, the mourning-bird, in Thana - before Jaq Tyjuri scourged the sky of names and faces, decrying the constellations as superstition, unworthy of place in a modern society. Butterfly didn't know how he knew the old names of the constellations - he just always had. It seemed odd to see Quetzal out here. Mourning-bird had always belonged to his homeland, not these empty deserts. Butterfly ground his teeth and clenched his fingernails into his palms, so tight his knuckles were white, forcing himself to look for Quetzal's companions rather than watch Cala walk away. I want those routes by the end of the night, eh? Good for you, Cala. Good for you. Know what I want? I want to go home. Really home. The home you abandoned. Having someone to talk to, though, would come a close second. Seraph's family had insisted that the travellers eat with them - but as strangers who accompanied their daughter, Cala and Qannik and himself were never really going to the centre of attention; other than a sort of covert, who-are-these-strange-people interest. Qannik had stayed with Seraph afterwards, while Cala and Butterfly had slipped out to explore. For a fleeting moment, he considered running after her and making another attempt to patch up the once-again deteriorating relationship - but he dismissed that with a scowl at You-Will-Cry, the orchid in the stars. There had to be more interesting things in this place than being lectured for fighting. Butterfly gnawed on his lower lip, absently scanning the dark sky as his mind churned. How could he explain? How to express that hate wasn't a problem at all - at least, not one you had to worry about? You can't solve it. You can't get rid of it. Life isn't fair, people hate as much as they love, that's how things are - tongues and stones are the only problems you have to worry about because there's not a god damn thing you can do about the hate they spring from. If they aren't hating you, they're hating someone else, and anyone that doesn't hate anything is so bizarre and alien, they'd be killed out of fear by those who know and live with the fact that life is never going to be fair. "What's bothering you?" For a moment Butterfly thought Seraph had snuck up on him, before he realised that her accent wasn't that thick, and also before he saw the girl and realised she was at least his own age. He glanced from her to the young man at her side - brother and sister, judging by the similarity in their long, fine faces - and managed a smile. "Nothing I'd want to bore you with." "You don't like that girl, do you?" "Who, Cala?" Butterfly contemplated. "I used to. Not so much anymore. She's changed..." "That's fine. Neither do we. She looks at us like we're about to steal the sand under her feet..." the girl pulled her face into a frown of deep suspicion, such a caricature of Cala that Butterfly felt his smile become genuine. "What're you called?" "Butterfly." The girl inclined her head, flicking it back to rid her face of hair almost immediately. "This is my brother Tel Annun. I'm Ishirah. You looked lonely, so we wondered if you'd like to come and join us?" Ishirah kept her big, dark eyes fixed on Butterfly as she spoke, gesturing behind her and Tel Annun, the way they'd come. He couldn't think of a reason to refuse - or even to want to refuse - so Butterfly nodded and followed the pair towards the edge of the camp. Two tents were set up here, on the fringe of the open, moon-silvered desert, their entrances facing each other and a fire burning in between. A half-dozen or so curious faces turned to the newcomers, their guarded expressions dropping into smiles when they recognised the three. Ishirah skipped off into one of the tents, leaving Tel Annun to introduce Butterfly. He was vaguely surprised that this could exist in what he'd always thought was a rigid society - the atmosphere in this camp-within-a-camp was far more relaxed than in the settlement proper - but made no complaints as space was created for him by the fire, bright against the night's lonely cold. Though he didn't share fluency in language with everyone here, between the group of them they could communicate well enough that by the time Ishirah and another two girls came out of the tent with trays of mismatched little cups, he was laughing and chattering happily. Cala's admonitions and orders were pushed roughly to the back of his mind; and when Ishirah sat down next to him, her face shining with a smile in the golden firelight, so was Zenia. Butterfly vaguely recognised the drink as something he'd gotten from a dealer in exotic things, many Markets ago in Oracle City. But that had been poorly made, watered-down; nothing when compared to the tangy spiciness of whatever-this-was. Quetzal flapped mournfully past overhead, crying silently for a country many miles away, as Butterfly beneath felt his caution and care dissolve into the warm, spicy, golden, bittersweet firelight. Cala could want all she liked - she wasn't going to get the routes anytime tonight. |
| Hmm, since Ebie says we're back-tracking a little here, I'm going to do the same. My previous post, then, has not yet occurred. OK, I think that makes sense to me, so back to the story .... Qannik sat with Seraph through dinner and stayed by her side afterwards as she sat in discussions with her family. She felt strange among these strangers, and uneasy with their interested glances. She'd gotten so accustomed to Cala and Butterfly over the days and weeks since they'd been traveling that she had almost forgotten how awkward and alone she'd felt when she'd first arrived at the academy. Now that gawky shyness had her tongue-tied and clumsy again. She couldn't seem to put two words together and wanted desperately to find a deep, dark hole to crawl down into. She'd fumbled her way through dinner and although she was tired and sore, she hadn't wanted to leave the only other familiar face around, even to sleep. So, she listened to Seraph and her family speak, courteously in a language she could understand, and tried not to yawn too obviously. But the pillows they rested on were so soft and comfortable! The dogs laying all around her and Seraph kept her warm under the cold of the desert night, and the lamps above cast the edges of the tent into darkness. Qannik felt herself slipping, but she couldn't bestir herself enough to care any more. She rested her head against a furry flank and smiled dreamily, her first real smile all night. With her head on the dog's side, others all around, and the dull drone of voices, Qannik could almost believe that she was back home. She sighed contentedly. Soon she drifted off to sleep and pleasant dreams. |
| Zenia stood at the cross-roads, she could feel the grainy sand beneath her bare feet and a cool breeze blew her hair around her face. The sun and moon stood proud in the sky above her, their merging rays throwing a pale dancing light over the surreal landscape. "Which path will you choose?" The voice came out of no-where but it did not startle Zenia, she had known the question would come, had awaited it even. She drew in her breath, ready to answer; sure of her desicion. "Why so hasty my child? Most who enter here are troubled long by mine words and some even now have not yet made their desicions." "I know what path I choose," answered Zenia defiantly to the unseeing sky. "Ist thou sure of thine choice? For upon it rests the fate of the world; you are a daughter of the oracle, one of those chosen for some great task that must be completed less the world descend to anarchy" "And what is my task?" "I know not, chosen of the Felin, for the paths of the chosen are wrapped in mist, only the oracle can foretell and even that is not set in stone." Zenia closed her eyes frustratedly, the answer she had been so sure of a moment ago was slipping away from her, like a shadow through fog. "If you are sure about your choice then make it Gypsy warrior, for your path is already set before you. You will be great in this world, but you will be ever alone. That is your curse and destiny. Zenia felt fear rush up to cloud her mind as she saw in front of her the bodies of her family strewn across a blood stained ground. Turning she tried to flee from the horrifying sight only to find her brother standing behind her, his hand lifted in farewell. He turned and walked away from her and despite her pleas he did not turn back. Then she saw Butterfly, happy and smiling, his arm around the shoulders of a stunning girl with dark eyes. His own eyes looked straight through her as if he couldn't even see her. Crying now Zenia turned only to be confronted by the worst image of all. Sassy stood staring at her across the level ground. The Felin's features creased into a snarl, her hackles rising. She growled menacingly at Zenia, clearly stating that in her eyes the bond between them no longer existed. "No! Sassy, Sassy its me," Zenia sobbed, longing to rush forward and embrace her companion, "its me Zenia." "You are not Zenia," replied Sassy icily, "The Zenia that I loved is dead; she succumbed to the darkness inside her and was lost to this world." Zenia could feel herself falling into the shadowy void of nothingness. She clawed at the light, desperately trying to pull herself back to the surface. "Which path will you choose?" The voice was heavy with menace, "will you accept you destiny." Zenia flinched away from that voice, from the complusion to obey. It was a battle but not with anyone other than herself. She was losing, plummetting into the abyss. Then; "No!" she shrieked defiantly, "I will not accept, I will not choose that path?" "Then which will you choose?" The voice was gently again and she found herself standing at the crossroads, the sand grainy beneath her bare feet. "I don't know," she whispered "Then ponder, but know I will ask again." {c} *** Zenia woke with a start, the dream still flashing vividly before her eyes. "Finally you understand," came Sassy's voice. Zenia turned to regard the big cat, whose eyes were once again full of friendship and love. "Did you put that dream in my head?" "No," replied Sassy, "we share a link but it is not capable of that." "Then who?" Zenia asked, "was it the oracle?" "In a way, it was the makers of the universe; time and nature, you needed to understand before you could carry out your task." "But I don't know what that is, how can I do anything important if I don't know what to do?" Sassy smiled, "I'm sure you'll work it out before its too late." Zenia was about to make a scathing reply but stopped as another thought hit her, "those things I saw," she said quietly, "will they come to pass?" "I do not know exactly what it was you saw but the Oracle only has the power to show you what might be, nothing is set in stone." "But what I saw might still happen?" Sassy sighed, "I'm not going to lie to you Zenia. You are one of the Oracle's chosen, you must risk losing those you love to do what is needed of you, but you do not have to face these trials alone. You have to let people in, even if you know that one day they will leave. Live life for the joys of now, not the sorrows of the future." Zenia nestled her head in Sassy's warm fur, turning her head up to look at the stars, "I don't want this," she whispered, "I wish the Oracle had never called me, I don't belong here." Sassy waited for her companion to fall asleep before she too drifted off. Zenia had overcome the first hurdle, but how many more would be lain in their path? |
| hey guys- It's been a while. I'm sorry. I'd like to do a bit of a roll call, see if people are still interested in doing this. I've had a strange semester, but its over now. If y'all want to keep going, I'm game. let me know. I'll email you all, and check things in a week. the people I hear from, we'll keep going. the people I don't, well, we'll figure it out later. Ebie |
| The Lady never came that night and instead the Hag hobbled through the starry heavens on her cane as the sun rose, brilliant and hot in the East. She wasn’t supposed to be there, the Hag, at least not without the Plowshare to guard the edges of the heavens. The Hag in the sky without the Plowshare was only a sign of danger. “You do not like your, ah, mezze?” Cala inwardly jumped, and realized she had been staring blankly, lost in her own thoughts. From practice, she kept her face smooth and smiled. “No, sir, I was just thinking. It is no insult to your cuisine, it’s just that my thoughts are sometimes to wild for my own good.” and she stirred some more honey into her bowl as if it would make up for the digression. As friends of Seraph, the group was considered honored guests and so was invited to breakfast with her family. The food was exotic and good, the mezze tasted like a sweet, nutty porridge, and they balanced bowls on their knees as they sat on brightly colored pillows wrapped in their desert robes. “The desert is a harsh place,” her father was saying, “and you are by no means outfitted for a trip across it. It will burn your skin off by day, freeze you by night, and stifle you with its storms of sand. Water is hard to come by but we are not the only…” he paused searching for words. “Clan that inhabits these sands. Some clans will camp around the water and will kill you if they find you there. Others will allow you to take some if you go. So you must know how to conserve your water, and use it with care.” “And the plants?” Cala asked scooping the last of the mezze onto a spoon. “I’ve seen the birds eating from the cacti. Do they store water?” He nodded. “A little, and their flesh can be eaten if needed. But some of the needles are poisonous so you must be careful which ones you choose. Seraphine should be able to help you here, and I will outfit your party for the rest of the trip.” Cala breathed an internal sigh of relief. From what she remembered from the map before she left, the desert was large, and supplies from Seraph’s people would save them trouble. As for water, they’d have to be careful. She knew a few tricks, such as leaving blankets outside at night to allow dew to collect, but she had never had to survive in a desert. “Thank you. You honor us.” There is something here that makes me homesick, the warriors I mean. They are not the warriors of my people, and their moves lack the grace, the subtly, and the fluidity that I am used to, but they are fascinating to watch. They are noisier too, when they attack, and there is a sort of ruthlessness that I think would only harm them in the end. But I can see where their pride comes from and why they inspire fear. They are a more obvious danger, but underneath there are subtleties that would cause their downfall, such as their use of strength and weapons that look deadly rather than made to fit a person’s weight and strengths. It makes me miss my training on Andiria. And that makes me miss the sheep. Cala snapped the book closed, her eyes drawn once again to the cry on the practice fields and a man flip and fall into the dust. The others laughed as he pulled himself to his feet. His footwork…just a simple change in his foot work would have given him a stronger stance, and would have saved his balance and not made him look like a fool. “Mistress!” She turned at the call, and saw a man trudging toward her, wind bellowing his through the folds of camel colored robes. Immediately she was wary. The adults here didn’t speak to the strangers, but looked at them curiously, these oddities in their land. The only adults who really knew her were Seraphs family, and this man wasn’t one of them. Why are you being wary? she chided herself. These people have given you no reason to be on edge. Relax you silly thing. Relax. She bowed her neck, gracefully in respect. “Yes sir, how may I be of assistance.” “My master would like to speak with you.” “And who is your master?” “Come, come, he is very busy. Come,” he insisted, gesturing quickly to her. She paused for a moment then followed, making sure her veil was carefully wrapped around the lower part of her face. “Where are we going?” “This way, this way. Quickly.” Cala eyed him secretly and was glad for the daggers she had hidden on her person. He wasn’t answering any of her questions, and seemed to almost rush her through the lines of tents. Part of her wondered if she should stop, tell him later, and get someone else, but then he wouldn’t approach her again. Something was going on, a new piece was being played, and if she made her move too soon, she could throw off the game and she would never know if this new piece was good or evil. His path took her to the outskirts of the village of tents, a journey that lasted the better part of an hour. He hurried her along, glancing about nervously and furtively when someone else came by as Cala surveyed everything with wary eyes. For now, they were still in the tent city, and that was what mattered. Eventually they came to a halt outside of a low peaked white tent, no different from any of the others except the door was slightly lower and the edges weighed down by light colored pumice stones. The servant man who had brought her gestured with an all to big smile for her to enter. “Oh no,” she said, “you first.” “No fear, nothing to fear,” he said eagerly and held back a flap. The stare she held him in made him falter for a moment and he ducked in the tent, her following afterwards The inside was bigger than she expected, and even had a low hanging lantern bobbing from a rope on the cloth ceiling. Brightly colored cushions decorated the floor, and golden statues sat on a tables along the side. In the back of the tent, sitting on the grandest of pillows sat a thin faced man, browned from the sun, smoking a long stemmed pipe. His beard was trimmed, pointed and his mustache was oiled into a curl. He motioned for her to sit and she did too, casually looking around with what she hoped would be a look of admiration. Why would this man, on the outskirts of the city, have a tent as grand as the more important members in this society? That makes no sense. “Ah, welcome, welcome to my humble abode. Please make yourself comfortable.” “I am comfortable, sir, but I am most curious as to why you called me here.” He smiled, and it was the most awkward expression Cala had every seen. It was as if someone had attached fishing cord to different portions of his lips and began slowly pulling back. “I wanted to bask in the glory of one of Oracle’s children. Great things, you people will do and that, well, that means you hold great power.” “That has yet to be proven,” Cala answered dismissively, shaking her head at an offered goblet of wine. “No…no you will and you have great power.” He paused and licked his lips. “Tell me, girl, eldest of the group. You are the one in control? The one in power?” She bristled internally at the description. Control was for mindless fools, not her group. “I do not control my group, but it is my honor to lead them.” “Same as the same. But you are…the eldest…the wisest of decision makers. Do you…enjoy being at the academy.” Now we’re getting somewhere. “It is a place to be, not good and not bad. I must admit I am only there at the behest of my parents,” she answered truthfully. He nodded. “You are not fond of it then. What if I had an offer for you, eh? An offer that would set you free from that place. You could go, do whatever you liked. Ah, that appeals to you, I see it in your eyes. Gold? Is that what you would like? It would set you and your family up for generations, or you could disappear and start your own life.” He picked up a bowl, patterned with diamonds and desert snakes and removed its lid. Pearls of gold gleamed and rubies the size of her fist glinted at her in the light of the hanging lantern. She allowed her eyes to grow big in honest wonder at what was presented. “Yes,” he said, watching her. “And in return…lead your group to me. The other Oracle children. Ah I see you do not like that idea. But they do not respect you, they do not even like you. The one, he argues with you, he doesn’t follow you’re commands.” Butterfly. He hadn’t given her the trade routes like he asked. “He would gladly take your place, what good is he?” She shrugged. “I…I don’t know.” “And the littlest one? She doesn’t speak to you does she? It’s because she doesn’t trust you. She doesn’t trust you, and if she doesn’t trust you, she doesn’t like you. And as for the other girl,” he laughed, “I am surprised she has fooled you this long.” “What do you want?” Cala asked thickly, watching the man turn a rounded pumice stone over in his palm. “I want the Oracle children. They are…powerful…” His voice was becoming excited. “They are powerful, don’t you see? Powerful, and I am thirsty.” He’s what? “And in return, you’d give me this gold?” she asked. “What about me, I am an Oracle child too.” “I can make an exception for you,” his voice was even more excited now and Cala’s mind was working quickly. Her hands, folded in her sleeves, found her knives and began fingering the handle of one. Shifting surreptitiously she found a better stance and cocked her head. “You’re…thirsty?” The tent seemed to bulge and swell around her for a moment and the man seemed to grow in height. “Yes! Yes you silly mortal why don’t you understand! I am tired of being patient! I am thirsty for their power!” Cala gave up trying to be subtle and sprang back drawing her knives. “What…what are you?” she breathed. “I…” the man paused, as if realizing he had made a mistake, “I am nothing.” “You just said…” “Nothing!” The walls of the tent warped once more and Cala rose to her feet. The lamp fell, scattering hot coals across the ground. The man grew in height, and the door of the tent seemed to melt behind Cala’s back. There was no way out. She was trapped. With a hiss, she leapt forward, driving her dagger into the man’s stomach. She braced herself for the blood but none came. Instead, there came a laugh booming and sure. She looked up, then stumbled back as the body twisted around the blade and swallowed it. The man rose as if floating, footless and laughed again. A djinn? A desert djinn! I’ve read about those! Heard tales, read stories but I’d never thought…! If this is a djinn…then I’m in a lot of trouble. “Foolish mortal! Now I shall have to take you too!” “Like hell you will,” Cala spat and suddenly the tent walls began to flap as if in a sudden wind and she kicked a coal from the lamp into the fabric. It caught and flames began to lick the side. “You have displeased me!” the djinn roared, and the wind grew stronger. Suddenly it lifted the walls of the tent up and blew them away, crashing it into another tent and then another, until a whole row was a blaze and she stood in front of the djinn on bare sand. How does one kill a djinn?! Cala thought, smoothly dodging her dagger, as the djinn threw it back at her. Sand roared around her suddenly and she moved again, leaping to avoid its claws. The others…I have to warn the others. Pen! Where’s my Pen?! She grabbed one of the pumice stones that had been anchoring the tent and lobbed it with expert accuracy, it hit, but it didn’t do much good. Instead it seemed to make him even angrier. “You pesky little sand gnat!” Cries began elsewhere in the city of tents, and somewhere, far off a bell started ringing. The sky grew gray and the djinn laughed. Sandstorm! But he’s blocking my path to safety! She picked up a second pumice stone, this was darker and heavier than the last and the djinn suddenly stopped laughing. “Put that down, sand gnat, or I will destroy all your friends! I will drink their souls, not just their power!” “No!” she shouted, above the rising wind. “Call off this sandstorm and leave them alone!” “Give that to me! That is my stone!” What is it about this rock? He wants it…desperately. If I have it maybe he’ll follow me, leave Seraph and Butterfly and Qanak alone. “You want it? Come and get it!” She shouted back, and turned and ran into a wall of sand. Within moments, she was swallowed by the desert, only realizing at the last moment, that the djinn wasn’t following. Hi everyone. Essentially I’ve taken Cala away from the group for a while, since I will by away at field camp for the next month and won’t be able to add. She’ll be rejoining the group again when I do, but I figured I might as well take advantage of getting rid of her few a few weeks and threw in an antagonist for the desert part of the journey if you guys feel like using him |
| A bell, shouted voices, and suddenly he was awake even before Ishirah's frantic shaking penetrated his brain. The sounds of commotion, impending danger, act as a cold shower on anyone who's ever lived in Thana - if you can't rise and run on a moment's notice, you'll not live more than a year in that place. Barely taking in the unfamiliar place he appeared to have fallen asleep in - only bits of last night were available to his memory - Butterfly rolled into yesterday's discarded clothing and was speed-lacing his boots before anyone thought to inform him what was going on. "Fire, and a sandstorm comes," Ishirah said, breathless from shouting. "This tent is not strong enough. We must find shelter in another. Hurry! Quick!" Butterfly was able to satisfy her on that count, grabbing her hand and dragging her in the direction she indicated. Through the rising haze of dust and fine sand - already, it was stinging his face, soon it'd be tearing skin and scouring bone - he could see billowing black smoke and greedy flames, bent and twisted by the howling wind. He paused in the lee of a snapping, fluttering tent, writhing on its guy-ropes like an animal in pain, pulling his scarf across his face and leaning to shout in Ishirah's ear. "You get inside." "What about you?" He jerked his head in the direction of the ragged flag of flame and dark smoke. "Someone might need help." He prised his hand out of Ishirah's fear-tightened grip. "I'll find you when it's safe." "It's too dangerous! The storm will put the fire out!" "I'm hard to kill," he said, laughing perversely. "Others might not be. Go." She hesitated a moment as she re-fastened her scarf, but the noticeable increase in the shrieking of the wind and the amount of sand scouring the air seemed to make her mind up. Ishirah nodded and spun away, staggering as she left the tent's shelter and had to fight the onslaught of the rising storm. Butterfly waited until she'd disappeared before making his own move. It was easier for him; moving with the wind as the sand lashed against his back like the scourges of the jailers of Chand, he ran fast enough he felt he was flying. The fire had spread horrifically fast through a wedge of camp down-wind from where he assumed it'd started, burning a blackened swathe through the white city of tents; but the storm was still growing, and he saw Ishirah was right - soon enough, the fury of the wind would blow out the fury of the flames. Butterfly began to move through the smoking wreckage as fast as he dared, keeping an eye on the nearest shelter, wondering how long he could continue to resist the rising storm. Over the keening of the wind, he could hear the thin wail of a baby. Without stopping to wonder how it was possible, he plunged off towards it sound; following the thin thread of noise, bent double now against the wind's onslaught. No longer thin whips, it felt now like the solid cudgels they'd broken his cousin with, before they let him die. Butterfly staggered, bit his tongue and tasted the copper tang of blood, forced his way towards the lost child. The sound abruptly snapped off as he stepped over the smudge of black ash that used to be the edge of a tent. The carpet that'd been its floor was singed, being swiftly covered with a fine coating of sand and dust, but he could see it'd been woven with brightly coloured birds. Jungle birds. Butterfly swore, sensing a trap; the wind was getting too strong. If he didn't find shelter soon, he'd die out here. As if on cue, the curtain of sand parted to show the way to a large, heavy tent that'd somehow escaped the fire. The edges appeared to be held down by something - stones, Butterfly thought, too caught up in scrabbling through the low doorway to pay much attention. Inside it was shockingly calm, a hundred years away from the storm raging piercingly outside. The place was an oasis of bright colour, gleaming in the light of a lantern hanging from the centre-pole; swaying slightly as a minor concession to the elements. On the far side, a thin, sun-browned man with immaculately trimmed facial hair sat on an enormous embroidered cushion, smoking a long pipe with an expression of deep contentment. The setup stank of incense and lies, but Butterfly thought he saw an edge of desperation in the man's relaxed features. "It saddens me that we have little time for pleasantries," the man began. "I wish to make a deal with you, Butterfly." "What's the catch?" He was immediately suspicious, but knew he couldn't leave. "The desire to go home is burning you up. All who have eyes can see this. I can send you home. Free you from this foolish game." "In return for?" "You give me your friends." "Get bent," Butterfly snapped, seeing the raw greed and horrible hunger glimmering behind the man's inhuman eyes. "You know why I'm Butterfly? The one time Mouse and Rat teamed up the only one they couldn't trick was Butterfly. If they couldn't do it, no way you can. Stop lying. What're you hiding? What do you want?" Spotting a dagger lying nearby, his insides went cold as fear drove its icy claws through his gut. "Where's Cala?" The djinn - it was changing too fast and too terribly to be even vaguely mistakeble for human anymore - snarled and spat, rising up smokelike from the floor of his tent, as it suddenly seemed to be aware of the storm outside. "Join her then, if you reject my offer! There are no lies in the sand but you'll die just the same..." The djinn hesitated, giving him one last chance to reconsider; but Butterfly only glared. As the tent, walls and lantern and rich carpets and all, dissolved into the sandstorm, he thought he heard the djinn saying They'll be mine, nonetheless... And then, the wind hit him in its full force, and Butterfly fell face-down on the gritty desert floor where moments ago there'd been rich carpet. Carpet... he had only minutes before the wind's relentless scourge drove the flesh from his bones. Already he could feel his hands, and the strip of face above his scarf, burning and stinging as blood welled forth from myriad tiny cuts. Inch by painful inch, Butterfly forced his way back to the burned-out tent he'd passed through earlier. A few steps then, it was a million miles now, into the teeth of the storm. After an agonising eternity, his clawing, bleeding fingers found the edge of the rug, now entirely buried in desert sand. Half dragging it, half dragging himself, Butterfly wrapped himself in the thick wool, and lay in the puddle of calm as still as the dead. Protected from the desert's rage by a layer of bright jungle birds. |
Qannik woke giggling and pushed aside the licking dog tongue. Sitting up, she gratefully washed up with the small pot of scented water and cloths left for her and changed into fresh desert garb. She still wasn't entirely comfortable with Seraph's native clothing and it took her a few minutes to settle the garments in place. The layers upon layers of light-weight material were deceptively difficult to navigate. Carrying her hood and veil she stepped beyond the curtained-off section which served as sleeping quarters, and seated herself at the low table with Seraph and her family, accepting her bowl of ... porridge? gratefully. Seraph's mother asked Qannik something and though she didn't understand the words, Qannik could guess the question by the tone and so she answered, "I slept well, thank you," and tried not to blush too obviously or fumble discourteously with her food. "I must speak to Father and Mother about supplies and getting on our way," Seraph told Qannik as they ate. "But you're free to join Cala or Butterfly as they wander around camp, in fact, they're both gone already. Go have a look around, don't worry, just ask for me if you get lost." Qannik bit her lip and nodded unhappily. She wanted to show that she could be brave, but wandering around a camp of strangers was hardly appealing. And then a cold nose nudged her neck and she smiled. She had a great idea! She tapped Seraph on the shoulder. "Seraph, what's this dog?" she asked. "She's very friendly." "Oh, that's Gunesh, see, she's the color of the sun. She's a great hunter." "Do you think anyone would mind if I took her with me?" Seraph laughed. "The dogs go where they please. Only the hunters may command them. If she so chooses to follow you around, no one will stop her." Qannik smiled and finished her porridge a little happier. When she was finished, she excused herself and left the tent. Outside, the sun was still low in the sky but the temperature was already soaring. She shuffled around the edge of the grand tent and stood there uncertainly for a few minutes, looking around. To all sides were tents! Big ones, little ones, fancy ones, plain ones, all manner of tents and they formed an impossible-seeming maze. She'd been so tired the night before that she must have completely disregarded the enormity of the encampment. But soon the gaiety and utter abandon of the dogs had Qannik feeling like a kid again throwing off the serious weight she'd carried since that momentous meeting with the Oracles. She set off at an angle across camp, followed by several members of the friendly dog-pack, and watched the Yeshaians at their morning chores. Every little thing was brought outside and shaken and brushed until they gleamed: rugs, blankets, pillows, the funny little bolsters that served as beds, clothing, and even the sides of the tents were rolled up and the insides swept out. The activity made a lot of sense to Qannik, being that these people lived in an ocean of sand. A fine grit would soon cover everything if one did not keep on top of things. No one tried to keep her from wandering around. She received a number of welcoming smiles and curious stares, but she smiled back, albeit somewhat nervously, and tried to remind herself that they stared only because she was different. Her people were not from around here, but, rather, far to the South. And then, as she moved more to the outside of camp, she saw the horses. These were pure Desert horses and they sparkled like fine gems. Qannik stared. She did some quick math in her head. Even assuming a large average of occupants per tent, and using Seraph's family as a model, there were many more horses than people. They were all elegant and beautiful, but even Qannik's inexperienced eyes could pick out the riding horses. They were just a bit more beautiful, a bit more graceful, and held themselves a bit more proudly. They were huge by Qannik's standards, but she knew very little about horses. These Desert horses had small heads with delicate noses and long, slender legs. They held their tails out behind them when they ran and they played together much like dogs, nipping and chasing one another across the sands. "Oh!" breathed Qannik, clapping her hands in delight. "What do you think?" asked Seraph, coming around a tent and leading Gevira and the other two of their horses. "They are wonderful, aren't they?" "Oh, Seraph! They're lovely! It's no wonder you wanted one while at school." "Why don't you help me brush these," suggested Seraph, "and then maybe we can see if one of my father's grooms will let us go for a ride." "Really? Really, Seraph!" The other girl laughed. "Sure, why not? There's little taxing about carrying two small girls for a while, at least while it's still cool. Come noon-time, we'll all be resting. Come on." With curry combs and brushes in hand, Seraph and Qannik settled down to work. The dogs napped in the shade of the standing horses and the two girls had often enough cause to laugh at their antics. Soon enough, however, Seraph looked up at the sky, sniffing a little and frowning, and then looked back abruptly, as Qannik jerked in a quick breath and stumbled to her knees. The dogs all sat up, heads turning towards the west and the horses all lifted their heads, feeling the unease sweeping across the desert. "Qannik?" asked Seraph, going to her friend's aid. "Qannik, are you okay?" "Augh!" groaned the younger girl, writhing in Seraph's arms. "Burning, burning, I can't .. can't breathe!" She gasped for air, staring at something Seraph couldn't see. "Qannik!" cried Seraph, shaking her a little. She could feel the animals' fear and tried to push her own aside. And then Qannik screamed, making Seraph and the horses flinch. The dogs crowded in closer, whining. "Run! Run, Cala!" screamed Qannik. She tossed fretfully and Seraph could feel heat just pouring off her skin, like she had a fever. The little girl moaned and then tried to crawl away, slithering across the ground. Seraph watched to make sure she was okay, but now she could hear pounding hooves and she stepped a little aside to find out the news. "Fire!" shouted the man, leaping down from his horse. The other grooms and horsemen gathered close to him. "We must get the horses away!" shouted the first man. "Before the wind shifts and the smoke comes this way." "What is it? What has happened? What's going on?" Voices rose in alarm and panic. "No time! No time! We must move the horses now! You, there, get mounted, let's go!" Seraph ducked away when the orders started flying. There was something not right about all this ... Now where was Qannik? She started to run, ducking around the milling animals and people. Where was the girl? She cursed a little to herself, skidding to a halt as someone screamed, "Sandstorm!" Seraph found Gevira, leaping to her back, a comfort to them both. She had to decide what to do next, and quickly. |
| Hey all, sorry for the delay- I've been busy looking for a job and settling in to my new place for the summer. But I'm back, and things are looking great! I've disabled everyone I haven't heard from. If you've been disabled, just write me and we'll enable you again. Seraph didn't know how long they had. The dust storm could be only seconds away. She had to find Qannik. Urging Gevira forward, they pushed through the frenzied swarm of people. Everyone was experienced with sandstorms, but this one had come on so suddenly, that even the most experienced were hard pressed to go throught the safety routines. Seraph uttered a quick prayer to El Roi- "we could use a little gaurding now, Shepherd!" suddenly Gevira veered to the left. "what in the world?" she started, but the Desert horse lowered her nose to nudge the dust covered, senseless Qannik. "For goodness sake!" Seraphine jumped off and picked up her friend. Qannik hung limply, and seraphine grunted as she lifted the tiny girl and put her over her sholder like a wounded lamb. Grabbing Gevira's reins, she trotted quickly towards the hill at the south of the camp. She had very little time- the dust was already swirling angrily around her feet- but luckily she was close to begin with. They arrived at the hill within the minute, and shifting her weight forward, Seraph struggled up the hill with her unconsious friend. She felt hands begin to lift away her burden, and belying her wearyness, she spun away with a shout. "calm down! calm down!" Her brother cried as she avoided seraph's swinging fist. "you'd think you didn't want help." Seraph sighed. "sorry, Tam Lev." when he tried again, seraph surrendered her friend. THey finished the trip upl to the others, the majority of the camp on one average size hill. Seraph convinced Gevira to lie on the sand, and they leaned qannik up against her. Tam Lev handed her a few damp cloths, which she took gratefully. She tied one over qannik's mouth and nose, the other around her closed eyes. She turned to her brother and he helped her with hers, and they settled down against the back of her still calm horse. in the few seconds before the sand hit, she asked "have you seen Butterfly and Cala?" "No." Tam Lev replied, and then the storm hit. here is Cala's absentee addition Running…running, running…dirt beneath her bare feet, hair a braid wound ornately around her head. A village of low stone houses each with a dirt path, a wide circle of stones and the reflecting pool mirroring the stars. Running…running…. Do you hear the drums? They’re coming…Pen, they’re coming! Ma and Aunt Lynia warned us. They said they’d come…He wouldn’t let us last Illyia! Running…village aflame, people in strange costumes…hide, hide before its too late… Illyia! Name lost in flames. Cala opened her eyes slowly as the world she knew materialized around her, blurry and half-lit. Where am I? What…? The last thing she remembered was sand, everywhere and in everything, in her hair, her mouth, plugging her ears, blocking her nose. It was everything she tasted, everything she saw and at one point as the sand closed her eyes, she had given herself up for death. But somehow, death hadn’t come. She blinked again, trying to shake the blurriness from her eyes. A third and a fourth time and it never left. The cold grip of fear began to close on her heart. What was this? Why couldn’t she see?! “Hold, girl. Be patient. The desert blindness will leave you soon.” Mentally she cursed her carelessness. Stuck in a strange place she should have been more careful, gotten a hold on her surroundings before giving any indication she was awake. Benjiro…as time passes I’m becoming careless and stupid. See, you should never put me in charge of a group. A group…my group… What had happened to them? She had tried and failed to lead harm away from them. And now? And Pen? What happened to her cat? Would he be okay? She blinked again and the blurriness became fuzzy and she could make out shapes and figures. Her head was tipped back and cool water trickled down her parched, swollen throat. She fought at first, then realized if whoever it was wanted to kill her, he could have done it already. Blinded, she was lying on her side on cool stone, every muscle in her body aching. Her knife was gone and she had the djinn’s stone clutched firmly in her hand, not that it could do much good. She hardly felt like moving. Yes, he could easily kill her now. The figure moved away as the light in her vision sharpened and she forced herself to pull herself upright. “Who are you? Where am I?” she asked, voice coming out a harsh croak as she let her free hands slowly feel out the surface she sat upon. “Hrmph. A pushy little thing you are. I thought you’d be more timid after all that whinin’ you did in your sleep.” Internally, she recoiled and tried to keep the blush from her cheeks. He had been watching her? “You haven’t answered my question,” she said instead, speaking levelly. “You are beneath the desert, of course. You are a lucky thing that the desert chose you, otherwise it wouldn’t have spared you like it did and dumped you down here. Kind old man the desert is. Most people don’t think so, but what do they know?” “Um…” she wasn’t quite sure what to say now. Chosen and spared? Then who was this man? Had the others been so lucky? “I just live here,” he answered casually, as if taking the question from her head. “Me and the desert just have a…complex relationship. Now the real question is, who are you? Not often we see a Thanian in this part of the world.” “I’m Andirian.” The words were involuntary and forceful. She was Andirian or she was nothing. There was silence for a moment and then a slight crunch of dirt under a foot as a shift in weight. “No, no you’re definitely Thanian. Heh, and you know it too.” “I am Andirian.” “No you’re not.” “Yes, I am. I am!” Why couldn’t this man understand? Why couldn’t he understand the difference between Andiria and Thana? It was the difference between night and day. The difference between calm, and the calm before the storm, the difference between home and home. A lump suddenly formed in her throat, one she hadn’t felt for a long time, and she forced it down. There was another long silence. “No you’re not.” She could almost swear the man was beginning to laugh at her, egging her on. But no, no she wasn’t going to play this game with this stranger beneath the desert. Beneath the desert, lost, blind and a failure. Her group, her team…She closed her eyes. And now what. She heard a sigh and the blanket fall over her again. “You’re no more fun unless you sleep. So sleep.” And she did. |
In her dreams, Qannik danced. She wore a traditional shaman's garb, but unlike any she'd seen before. She wanted to laugh at herself, for who would believe a great nanuq, one of the Great White Bears, could be so small? And yet her dreams left her no voice for laughing. She danced in a circle, one of many shamans treading the ancient spirit dance around the fire. She kicked her feet to the side in imitation of the great bear's shuffle and shook her head, giving the costume a life-like nod, and huffing in mimicry of the giant's voice. She clapped her hands together, hands that were dwarfed by the bear-paw mittens she wore. She felt hot and sticky, and still they danced. Ahead of her in the circle was a tall man, stooped-shouldered, and wearing the costume of a raven, shaking his arms to shake his feathers, and ducking his head so that the great, black eye gleamed in the firelight. Across the fire was a wolf and a salmon, and a great bull moose and others she couldn't quite make out; and leading the line was a woman who gleamed as if she bathed in a golden fire. Together they cavorted until Qannik's limbs felt leaden with weariness and the muscles in her legs cramped and her feet felt numb. Her back and neck ached with the weight of the bear pelt and sweat ran down her back and sides like rain. Her throat ached and she had to gasp for breath. Still they danced. Now when Qannik glanced across the fire, only a few of the figures remained, only their human aspects seemed somehow more distant, the wildness of their animal-likenesses more prominent. Raven cawed and the others looked up, pausing in their dancing. Eagle fluffed his feathers importantly and circled out of the dance in the opposite way. Beaver and Porcupine both shrugged and began muttering amongst themselves. Wolf sat and howled. And still Sun and Bear continued their dance. Around her the air seemed lighter, friendlier, and the weariness and pain faded from Qannik's limbs. Her heart, too, felt lighter, and she began to pick her feet up higher, holding up her head and shaking her paws in joy. And then the firelight and the animals were gone, leaving her snuffling and huffing in this unfamiliar place. She halted, looking around uncertainly. The woman who was the sun walked toward her cautiously, hand out, as one might to calm a frightened or wounded animal. "Easy, child," she said, and her voice soothed the wild beating of Qannik's heart. But still the beast within her shivered and shook, fighting her and the urge to run. Qannik shook her wooly head, blinking rapidly as she tried to focus on the golden presence before her. She sank down to four legs, snuffling at the ground. "Little Sister," said Sun, closer now. Qannik swung her head in that direction, watching the woman cautiously, her feet digging at the earth. She longed for the chill of the artic breeze on her fur, for the slap of the water on the ice. She lifted her head, breathing in great gasps of air, searching for the tell-tale tinge of salt. "Be calm," said Sun, reaching out, but the animal sense was too strong and Qannik shied, coughing a short warning bark. She waited, just out of reach, watching. "Think of something strong," said Sun, "something important to you. When you wish it, feel the transformation." Qannik's mind went instantly to her knife, a gift from the Mog-ur when she'd become his apprentice. Her hand went to her side, where she'd once again taken to wearing it, and found that she did indeed have a hand again, and fingers to clutch her beloved tool. She fell off-balance and collapsed into a shaking heap upon the ground. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling the sweat on her face, and looked up in confusion. The beautiful woman, Sun, sat down easily beside her. "You have called for me, Child, what is it that you will of me?" Qannik blinked, licked her dry, chapped lips. She swallowed a few times. "I don't -- I don't understand," she whispered. Sun frowned a little, and then extended her hand in a silent command. Qannik slipped her hand into the woman's, blushing with embarassment for the dirt and sweat and grime. Sun turned her hand over, to look at the palm and brought her other hand up to cover Qannik's. She closed her eyes and was silent for many long, tense moments. Just as Qannik was about to speak, Sun opened her eyes and released her. "Well," said Sun, both amusement and pity coloring her voice. "Truly you know not what you do." She frowned and her features darkened in anger. Qannik trembled. And then Sun smiled, shaking aside the clouds for a moment. "Never fear, Little Sister, my anger is not for you. You have travelled far this night and now you must return for your friends are anxious for you. Heed you well the lessons learned here tonight for you will have need of them soon." "My friends?" Qannik echoed. "My friends, are they all right? Cala? Butterfly? Seraph?" Sun did not answer. She did not seem to be looking at Qannik anymore. Her voice held an odd note as she said, "The Spirits of the Desert will not think kindly of our intrusion onto their domain. Seek you the Heart of the Jinn and therein shall you find your answers. The winds of sand hide much, start you there. The Desert Rose blooms in the desert once in a thousand years. You do well." Qannik opened her mouth to ask a question and then felt abruptly back to silence, for Sun now looked into her eyes once more. "Yes," Sun said again, "my Little Nanuq, you do well." In the space of a blink and a heartbeat, Qannik was alone, in the cold and dark. She sprang to her feet. "Wait! Aannagu! I don't understand!" And she wept, alone and in the dark, she wept. "There, there, shh..." Qannik sat up. She felt hot and stiff and gritty. She blinked, slowly, as her eyes were filled with sand. She rubbed at them with a sandy hand. "Wh-where am I?" One of Seraph's brothers, moist rag still in one hand, shrugged. "In a safe place. Where, exactly, is not important. The storm will have changed the land when it is over." Qannik looked around, searching. "Where is Seraph?" she asked. "I must find her!" The young man gave her a deep look. "Seraph will be back. She said I should watch you should you wake, but she will return soon." "I must see her now!" She struggled to her hands and feet, groaning as her muscles let her know they remembered what had happened whilest she slept, even as her mind struggled to remember. The young man steadied her. "You should rest ... you were out in the storm --" "NO!" Qannik struggled. "No, Seraph! Seraph, I must tell her, Cala, the Jinn, the Spirits are angry." Tears came to her eyes as she truly realized how weary she really was and she wept a few angry tears in frustration. She knew she wasn't making any sense. "But, I must tell Seraph! Butterfly in the desert, I run and run and run and still ... I cannot find him!" She collapsed onto the sandy blanket, more tears sliding down her cheeks. "Siqieiq, suvich? Kafiqsiffitchufa! Kafiqsiviich, Arrluk?" Tired and weary, and from more than just tears, Qannik wept herself back to sleep, this time to rest. |
| Goodness, I come on for something to read and I find this! It's been a while- I'm sorry everyone. here is my entry, about a year late. "I don't know Ser." Tam Lev said as he straightened covers over the sleeping Qannik. "She's had quite a shock, it might be just a dream. Don't worry about what it means now, concentrate on finding your other friends." "thanks Tam." Seraph said softly. Her Brother merely waved her off, and she left to try and locate the others. Unfortunately, they were nowhere to be found. Cala hadn't fraternized much with anyone, and the girl she had seen Butterfly talking to, a girl named Ishirah, said that Butterfly had run off to be useful. The girl was red eyed, and sniffed mournfully. "Foolish. what did he think he was going to do? He had no grit to him, I could tell." Seraph nodded in reply to the girl's observation- "no, I don't think he's ever been in the desert before. No grit. But-" she said admiringly "he's got guts to make up for it. Don't worry Ishirah, He'll be allright." However, Seraph's look as she walked away was very grim. The older two students were nowhere to be found, and Qannik had said. Kofer, who was walking beside her, growled, then whined in response to her feelings. "tush." she told him softly, a hand on his head. "lets go see if Qannik is awake." She was. Seraph found her trying to talk around the food that Tam Lev was insistently spooning into her mouth. "Stop talking and eat!" he scolded. "You'll choke if you don't, and that is a stupid way to die. You can't do anything until you've got some nourishment in you anyway. Now drink this tea. It'll stiffen you up." Qannik couldn't avoid the mug he held to her mouth, and so she swollowed obediently, and made a face. "the best medicines always taste the nastiest." seraph said, making them both turn to look at her. "Seraph! Oh, Ser, Something really bad has happened!" Qannik shot up in bed, making Tam spill the tea. "It's alright." he said. "you don't need it if you're moving that fast anyway." "What is it?" Seraphine asked over him. "The others! Something has happened to them. The Sun Lady said to seek the heart of the Djinn." Qannik watched in fear as Seraph went red and white by turns. Her hands clenched, and her eyes grew fierce and frightening, the silver of them sparking in fury. "Seraphine!" Tam Lev started toward her, but it was too late. Seraph spun on her heels and took off out of the tent. Tam Lev helped Qannik as she got up out of the bed, and they ran after her. "What is she going to do?" asked Qannik, and Tam Lev shook his head. "something very stupid." he said quietly. They stopped when they saw that seraph had, standing at the edge of the ragged encampment. Beside her Kofer howled in a long, excited note, and other dogs answered him. Horses whinnied, and cows and camels bellowed. And above all this, Seraphine yelled out a battle cry in a voice so ferocious that Qannik shivered, despite the fact is was coming from a girl scant inches taller than her, and the same age besides. "Djinn!" Seraph roared. "You hissing desert snake, you belly crawling worm, get out here! Come and face me! The sand began to whirl in front of Seraph, and Qannik gasped. Up and up it rose, spiraling around a central point in which appeared a brown skinned man, dressed in the most decadent of silks, outfitted with every bangle and bauble imaginable. He smiled at seraph. "Oooh, a little Yeshai girl, and with such pretty eyes. Look, how sparky. I should turn them to jewels and add them to my collection." His bracelets clanked as he swept black hair from his eyes. "But what is it you wanted my dear?" "I'm missing something." seraph said tightly. "Two friends, a boy and a girl." "Hmm," murmered the djinn. "they wouldn't happen to look like this, now, would they?" behind him, in another whirl of sand, appeared Butterfly and Cala. "That would be them." Seraph replied. she started as she heard running steps behind her, then relaxed as she saw it was Qannik, who ran forward and took her hand. "return them at once. "Why should I?" Asked the Djinn. "because if you don't, I'll kill you." The Djinn laughed. "You, little scarab? a bite from you would barely sting!" "Then what do you have to fear, fighting me? face me, if you aren't a coward. If you defeat me, then you have the four of us, rather than two!" The djinn narrowed his eyes. "this sounds amusing enough. What weapons?" "none. I'll tear you apart with my hands!" Seraph shouted in fury. "Tam Lev!" THe young man came forward to her side. "Little sister, I'm not happy about this..." "I'm not exactly thrilled either." Seraph replied. She squeezed Qannik's hand. "But Qannik will need time, and I can give it to her." "Me?" Qannik squeaked. "time for what?" "Qannik, I can't defeat him." seraph said simply. "He's immortal, for the most part, but once my blood is up I'll forget everything. It'll be a fight to the death, my death, unless you can discover one thing." "What?" whispered Qannik. "I know you can do it somehow." seraph said, "I know you have powers that you don't quite understand yet, but Qannik, somehow you have to discover the name of that djinn. When you do, shout it loud. Then the djinn will be bound to your will. "Coming, desert rose?" the Djinn called out mockingly. "I come." replied seraph, and she ran out with a roar. |
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