Blackfridayrule

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne had...a feeling. It was never something she could put her finger on, nor was it usually something she could accurately identify as it happened. If pressed, she would describe it as an electricity to the air, a faint change in the air pressure, or maybe just the odd tension felt in a muscle in response to the feeling of another presence close to the skin. But when Taja landed on her head and preened through her hair, and when the crack of thunder slapped across an otherwise relaxed sky, she did not flinch. And only after the fact did she know beyond doubt that Astra was listening to Darin, though what was being whispered to the universe, she would never know. Her attention sharpened, though. As a cool thrill washed through her, she watched both in awe and with an assessing eye, trying to figure out what exactly was happening.

Hadian, on the other hand, was a different story.

The man had just been about to open his mouth to speak, a breath primed and ready to be pushed through his vocal cords, when the sudden thunder squeezed it out of him in a startled yelp. He jumped, craning his neck to the sky. He'd thought the clouds had been thin and sparse, not storming? And while he was still puzzling that out, he watched as the ocean rose to meet Darin in a fluid arm, like the firm handshake of a long time friend. He'd been on his feet, but he dropped to his knees then, face straight into the red sand with such fervency that his forehead left an impression. The sailor in him saw the water and gasped, "Istaerih, Spirit of the Sea, have mercy!" The belief in the entity ran as firmly in sailors as their love for strong drinks. Said to occasionally take the shape of a siren when benevolent, and of dark, alien creatures when she was angry, elvish sailors from each of the three tribes believed she was the very spirit of the sea, and without her, the ocean would be as flat and still as a mirror pond.

Ridahne smiled, practically beaming. "No, not Istaerih. The Seed Bearer of Astra."
Hadian looked up, still in a prostrate position in the sand. "What...?" His tone held awe and wonder, but also a little disbelief, too.
"When Darin speaks, Astra listens."
Hadian straightened a little, though he was still on his knees. He reached one timid, uncertain hand out to touch the stream of water that curled around him. "Ai..." he breathed. He'd heard the Gardener had some mystical powers but...well...he never expected any of those to be true. "Darin that's...incredible. Is this...normal for the two of you?" Ridahne's lack of reaction did not entirely escape him, now that he thought about it.
Ridahne smiled, almost teasingly. "You get used to it." That was only a half truth. She didn't get used to it like one got used to and desensitized to the beauty of the ocean, or the vastness of the stars. But rather, it did not grip her and shake her as it used to, mostly because she could almost feel it coming. Still, it never ceased to fill her with wonder every time.

Both siblings got very quiet after Darin amended the plan. Each of them sort of grimaced, and though the expression was so alike on both their faces, Ridahne was unerringly the more expressive one. She was quiet as her face twisted through a quick repertoire of mixed, tangled emotions ranging from acceptance, to frustration, to disappointment, to fear. She kept trying to rein them in and failed, which ended up with her making a face like she'd bitten into a bitter lime peel. After the initial grimace, Hadian was studiously quiet and still, except to introduce his horse as Halyih, and she dipped her head and lifted one foreleg in greeting to Darin.

"I understand," Ridahne finally said, her tone controlled. And then, a little more honestly and genuinely in her tone she added, "it's just...as much as I don't want to give the Sols my time, it's...well, the nimarih is like a free pass, so to speak. It doesn't cover up my ojih, and especially not the mark, but it's sort of symbolic of...of...well, of everything you have come to understand about that night, and about me and how this all happened and it's not real forgiveness but it's amnesty and without it...well I'd hoped...I'd hoped for...some measure of peace." The last part was barely breathed, as if it had been wrung out of her. She dipped her head in acknowledgement as some of her prior anxiety from earlier in the night crept back into her chest. "But I understand. I will do as you ask." Ridahne would defend herself or Darin if it ever came down to it. And Ridahne just hoped she wouldn't have to cut the hands off of anyone she personally knew.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Hadian was relatively unbothered by the hawk in and of itself; he knew the falconry gear Darin was wearing and guessed the raptor belonged to her. It was his name that caught him off guard. "Taja?" He couldn't get the image of Ajoran or another Taja out of his head: big burly men with engraved silver plates that hung over their sternum and chest like an extravagant collar, black silk sashes, and very polished weapons. "Arm?" He blinked, looking at Ridahne as if for confirmation. "Did that translate right?"
Ridahne nodded. "Aye, she knows all about what it means. Trust me, it fits."

Hadian hung on Darin's every word, absolutely fascinated to learn what kind of person would be chosen to be the Seed Bearer of Astra. The farmer bit didn't really surprise him much, not when he considered it. A seed needed to be planted, nurtured. Who would know better how to do that than a farmer? But the comparison of her home to Atakhara made his brows knit together--just slightly. There wasn't such a thing as a rich farmer as far as he knew, but...well it felt wrong somehow for the Seed Bearer to come from such a humble place. But then, maybe that was the point. Who better to understand the poor masses of Astra than one of its own? He did begin to understand why exactly Ridahne had her vision, and why she specifically needed to find Darin. If Darin was not suited for the road, or for fighting, well...he could think of no one else better to partner her with. It had taken her some time to really figure this out, but Hadian seemed to know it the moment Darin revealed that part about her.

Once more, he studied his sister with newfound awe. Honored? Clearly, if she was Darin's Guardian. But his eyes wandered to the traitor mark, and though he knew what steps had brought her to that grim night, it still pained him to see. He knew better than most what really happened, and perhaps that's why it grieved him as much as it did. He didn't really think she deserved it.

While Hadian was still lost in thought, Ridahne suggested, "You know, we could make you a ku'o, but you could wear it as a necklace. Like this one." She lifted the carnelian one Ajoran had carved for her and, as if remembering it for the first time in a long time she said conspiratorially to Hadian, "I'm finally going to marry him. He doesn't know it yet, but...assuming nothing's changed..."
Hadian laughed, unsurprised by this revelation. Though he remembered how she was the last time he saw her; she'd thought it was best to cut ties with him to protect him from her own shame. And now... "It hasn't, I assure you. Can...can you do that?"
Ridahne lifted her chin, speaking with an authority that nearly floored Hadian. "I am Ridahne Torzinei, Seed-Chained, Seed Guardian, Sol Slayer, and Oathbreaker. I will do what I please." She did not have the same kind of power that Darin did when the Seed Bearer made declarations, but there was...something. Whether it was her own confidence, or some other force at play, Hadian felt a prickle at the back of his neck as she spoke. It was a very 'her' thing to say--she'd always done her own thing regardless of what others said she ought to. But there was something about her that had changed. As he looked her over, he could see the long road had made her lean and muscled, but she had scars, too. The worst of which was a ropy line across her side that looked to be about a year old and, from what he knew of scars, had to have been a severe wound. Her experiences had hardened her, evidently.

"Well damn," he said after a moment of silence, chuckling. "I guess you will." He then had a moment to consider all of the other, trivial things that Darin wanted to know, and he had to laugh at the idea that her life was less interesting than his. Quite the opposite, he imagined. "Hardly! I go to sea, I fish, I haul lines and nets and then I come home and drink and go to market and make money for my wife and I. She does all the hunting--I got her an urala kitten for her wedding gift since Ridahne took Mitaja, she named him Asvei. When she isn't hunting, she's a potter. I helped her build a kiln behind the house, and on nights where I'm away at sea, she will stay up all night and tend the fires. We have some of the nicest clay jars in the neighborhood," he said with a measure of pride. "We're not expecting children, not for several years. But sometimes we watch one of the neighbor boys while his parents are busy. He's a bit too young to hang with the pack of street rats Ridahne and I are all too familiar with," he said with a wink, "so he needs looking after. But it won't be long before he finds his way into the pack. That's enough for us for now, we want to be a little more established before we start having any children."

Hadian thought of his favorite smells and subconsciously drew in a deep breath of air through his pierced nose. "My favorite smell is woodsmoke," he said after a moment's consideration. "It makes me think of all things comfortable--of warmth and of home and of curry in the pot and of the night air. I met Nyyvai by a communal bonfire, actually. I can't wait for you to meet her, Darin." He tried to think of any more information worth sharing and came up rather short. His life was so...normal. He'd fallen into the role of fisherman at an early age, just like his father and his father's mother had before him. It was Ridahne who, for better or worse, had all the adventures. "I don't know, my life has been pretty uneventful except...well, that time I was actually summoned to the palace by the Sota-Sol herself..."

Ridahne's gaze sharpened. "She what?"
Hadian's own eyes widened as he said, "Oh! You wouldn't have known, I forgot! After you left, there was a lot of turmoil. People...the public wanted to see you publicly hanged, and when you weren't, there was national outrage. I had one group of people--just citizens--bust into the house at night to search it, thinking they'd find you hiding there. Apparently the same thing happened to Ajoran, but those people didn't come out of it as well as the group who harassed me." Ajoran, after all, was nearly as deadly as Ridahne was. He could see outrage boiling up in Ridahne, so he quickly pressed on. "Anyway, the incident sort of put me on the map, so to speak. The Sols didn't know you had a brother until then, but shortly after, I got an invitation from the Sota-Sol herself, delivered by Ajoran. They brought me into a smaller room--not the throne room--and offered me all kinds of drinks and food, and I finally understood what you were talking about when you said it was overwhelming to have all that food put in front of you. But they grilled me with questions about you, and about what I knew." He shuddered visibly. "I think humans have an expression, being caught between a rock and a...another rock?"
"Rock and a hard place," Ridahne supplied.
"Aye, that. That's what it felt like to have the four of them bend their attention on me."
"And??" Ridahne's eyes were wide, wild, intense. If they'd mistreated Hadian in any way, she would add a few more reasons to be called dishonored.
"And I told them everything. I didn't know about the actual incident that caused you to...to...you know, but I knew about the past couple years. And I told them about Nailih." Hearing the name of the man who had first suggested Khaltira was crooked, the man she later slaughtered, made Ridahne cringe openly. "They apparently did the same to Ajoran, and I guess we must have said enough of the same things for them to take what we said seriously. They did a full investigation into Takhun, and Khaltira-Sol--"
"Khaltira," Ridahne corrected sharply, dropping the honorific.
Hadian frowned grimly, and--was that anger in his eyes?--he nodded. "Khaltira." Ridahne's anger was a force, but it was quick to surface and quick to fade. The ire of a patient man like Hadian, however, was almost worse for its rarity. "This was right about the time that a woman and her husband started talking about how the Sol-Slayer had actually saved her life to just about anyone who would listen. It's my understanding they were also questioned extensively. And between all of us, the Sols learned what you never really got to explain in full. You're not pardoned, absolutely not. I imagine that's wrapped up in..." He motioned to Darin vaguely. "This. But when Eija Salei, her apprentice, and her partner showed up from abroad and started spreading news about this Red Hand, I do know that a national decree went out declaring that anyone found to be associated with the Red Hand would be immediately executed. They were vague on telling the public why, but I gleaned from Ajoran that Eija Salei had seen you, and this Red Hand was after you and your companion, which only Ajoran and I, and I expect the Sols, could guess was you, Darin. The two of us started to put things together and guessed they're after..." He dared not name it, even, but he looked at Darin as he spoke. "There's been ten executions since the decree. Not all were public, but the bodies were put on display as a warning. It seemed to do some good, too, because activity on that front seemed to die down after that. I know your relationship with the Sols is...awkward at best, Ridahne, but it seems like they've been helping you in what way they can."

Ridahne was both surprised and not surprised by this news. It made sense that they would want her to succeed in her mission, which they knew was of utmost importance. But actual support? She wasn't sure what that would mean for her future exactly, but it changed things a little, or at least clarified them a bit. "Thank you for the news," Ridahne said, still processing it all a bit. She looked at Darin. "We'll start early tomorrow so we can travel in the cooler part of the day, I'm hoping we'll pass through Atakhara by noonish, but we'll have to make it to Tasen before we can really stop. That's the capital, and it's not too far from Atakhara. Once we meet with the Sols, we'll actually be able to go back to Atakhara and you can see where I grew up. And," She smiled, "Like I'd hoped, we made it in time for the fall equinox festival. Summer here is brutal, so we celebrate its end with bonfires and food and dancing and music and storytelling. I could think of no better time to show you Azurei than now."

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

It was really hard not to bow. Hadian wanted to, and he couldn't yet understand why his sister had instructed him not to. But he could see that not bowing was the right thing to do, apparently. It felt very backwards. She was so high and honored and yet...there was something simple about her. Something...relatable, he thought after an effort. Though she was arrayed for travel and hard roads, she sort of had the look of a laborer, if he were to guess. And, well, those were his people. Her gaze was intense, but after all, his sister was Ridahne. He was used to intense, and it did not unnerve him. Hadian wiped away a fresh surge of tears and, grinning, said, "No, you are Darin Torzinei!" He barely knew her, but in that moment he was overcome with love for her. Maybe it was because she saved the life of the last of his family. Maybe because Ridahne loved her and therefore, so did he. Ridahne had a lot of faults, but choosing her circle of people was not one of them. The gesture of calling her Torzinei meant more than he said. It was not diminishing of her titles, yet it proclaimed that she was family now.

He blinked at the word 'guardian', absolutely catching the meaning that one of her tattoos indicated this. He looked at his sister with a new perspective and shook his head in utter disbelief. When she said she needed to go help the Seed-Bearer, this wasn't what he'd pictured. In fact, he thought she was merely facing exile. Where Ridahne might have paced and vocalized her shock and surprise and joy, Hadian just stood quietly, very still, amber eyes darting between the two women. For a while, it seemed like he wouldn't say anything, but then he murmured softly, "Ma and Da would be so proud of you, Ridahne. I'm--"
Ridahne choked out a sudden, violent sob, followed by a laugh. "Oh Hadian, don't!" It was too overwhelming for her to hear in words, but she knew Hadian meant it, and that was everything to her. "You'll ruin my hard, crusty exterior like that. Come, sit! sit!"

Hadian did, still unsure of whether or not to stare at his sister, or the Seed Bearer of Astra. Belatedly, he remembered that she'd asked him questions. He had so many of his own, but he wasn't sure what to do with the information he'd already been given, so he would wait before asking more. "I...fishing is...hard work. I spend a lot of time away from home but it's worth it. It's honest work. And it...it makes me feel close to Jaisih, our father. I...I would be honored to teach you, Astra-Sol--" Ridahne nudged him with her elbow and he corrected, "Darin." He had the ability to read Ridahne like very few could. "I live in Atakhara, it's a humble place..."
"You can say it--it's poor."
Hadian snorted. "Aye, it is. I inherited our family home and I live there with my wife--"
Ridahne gasped, physically turning his face to look again at his ojih. "You married Nyyvai! Did she take your clan name, or did you take hers?"
Hadian smiled a little, almost bashfully. "I tried to convince her to let me take her name." There was an unspoken, briefly awkward note of 'because of everything that happened with you' that faded into the dust as soon as he continued, "but she wanted to be a Torzinei."
Ridahne nodded, a question she was hesitant to ask slowly bubbling to the surface. "How's Ajoran?"
Hadian nodded too. "He's as fine as ever. Misses you terribly." Seeing the look in her eyes, he added, "He doesn't know you're here. No one does. I had a vision in the middle of the night, and not even Nyyvai knows exactly what I'm up to. I had it, and I simply said it was about you, and she told me to go. But even she doesn't know about you," he said to Darin. He still couldn't believe she was even real.

"So...there's a Seed after all...Have you seen the Tree? Do you know where you'll plant it? Or..." he looked between them, then decided, "That's what you've been up to, hasn't it? All this time? Ah! But you'll have to tell me, where do you come from? You are human, I see." Just then, Mitaja materialized from whatever shadows she'd been lurking in and almost knocked Hadian over with the force of her greeting. When she'd licked the dust off his face, she sat beside him, happily rumbling and purring as he stroked her silky fur.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

It had been a long year. Ridahne, despite all her experience, had officially never traveled so far and so much in her life. She'd been to Orosi and Eluri before, of course, but there was still so much of both of the elf tribe lands that she had not explored until she'd done it with Darin. Many were places she would not have gone to ordinarily, like small little villages in northwestern Orosi where the primary staple of the economy was the coffee trade. It was a different type of farming than what Darin was used to, and yet still farming all the same. The locals were very pleased to show Darin all about the plants and their bright red fruit, and how the seeds inside were extracted, dried, roasted, and brewed. Ridahne got to learn more about it than she ever thought possible--about how different ways of brewing, or different types of soil or ways of drying the crop all made dramatic differences in the final flavor of the beverage. Some were small communities that shared all their food and resources communally. They had excellent bonfires each night. In one of the larger Orosian cities, Ridahne traded small finger tattoos with an old Orosi inkmaster who had to be at least six hundred years old, with hair like white marble that contrasted his dark skin like a splash of paint.

But there had been hardship, too. The Red Hand was ever a threat, and Ridahne was thoroughly tested against them. Once, she captured one alive and interrogated him for twenty straight hours. He'd been so resistant to cooperating and swore he'd never speak, but after Ridahne tied him up by his ankles and hung him in a tree like a grim spider hangs her prize, spinning him occasionally, and after she'd employed a few other methods, some subtle and some not, he'd broken and told her the location of his comrade's hiding place. Ridahne had snuck in during the night and burned it down. One encounter was especially bad. It had been short, and she had not come away as badly injured as she had near the border of north Eluri so long ago. And still somehow Ridahne felt worse for it. The fight had been short and grim, but during it, one of the women very intentionally swung her knife at Ridahne's face. The tip barely caught the end of her nose, blessedly in a place where there was no ink. And after the fight had been won, the traumatized warrior cried for three days. Death was a path they all must take in their own time, but no one deserved to lose their soul, Ridahne explained.

The Ridahne that sat in the sand of the southern coast of Orosi was a more relaxed one than the Ridahne Darin met on the roadside. This wasn't to say she was lax in her vigilance--that had only increased, and she was even more wary of strangers. But with Darin, she was wholly herself. Unfiltered, unabashed, unashamed. This Ridahne told more jokes, taught Darin sailing songs, and sometimes helped braid Darin's hair while she was getting the hang of it, or would occasionally braid and tie it in the Azurei fashion just for fun while they sat by the evening fire. This Ridahne cried openly when she had occasional nightmares, and laughed more, sang more, told folk stories more. She trusted Darin wholly and without question, even when her friend gave her praise or compliments. That took a long time, but it finally clicked. And truly, she loved Darin like the human had always been her younger sister. This Ridahne had become increasingly more bold and perhaps even proud of her own history, however ugly it might have been. This Ridahne laughed at the few Azurei they encountered that jeered at her, and cursed at her. She saved words and explanations for those she thought might actually hear them, but did not waste them on anyone else.

As they ventured further and further south, and further east, and as the dusty earth shifted from a dun beige color to a deep, rusty red, there was a small change in Ridahne, however. It was like the days leading up to their approach to The Tree, where she'd gone more quiet and more withdrawn. Except now, she was not trying to hide from Darin. She told her so one night, and explained that if she was more quiet than usual, it was simply because she was still trying to sort out her own feelings about her homecoming. It was some mix of anticipation, built up over the last year, and excitement, and worry, and a wistfulness. And grief, too. She talked about it with Darin whenever she could actually find the words for any of it. Azurei, after all, represented everything she used to be--the good and the bad--and for her it held an inner demon that, though it no longer haunted her, still belonged to her and needed to be addressed. Mostly, she was excited though.

That excitement had really surfaced when she got to show Darin the ocean for the first time. It wasn't the same beaches she grew up on, but it still somehow felt like showing Darin a piece of her. The sea was her heritage, her family's livelihood, and also its undoing. Ridahne told Darin of how her father had drowned at sea while trying to save another crew member in a storm, but also would swim out and dive deep for crabs and clams for their dinner, and would bring back broken bits of long-dead coral to show Darin. She showed her how to build and sculpt moist sand into tiny little fortresses that crumbled at the first wave of high tide. She told her of the tides, too, and how they corresponded with the moon, and ocean currents, and how those currents affected animal migration. She'd even, though bitter experience, taught Darin about the little pale jellyfish that sometimes got swept up in the waves. Ridahne had howled when it stung her, but the pain faded the next day.

Ridahne sat with her back to the fire and a little ways away from it, staring out at the dim points of deeper shadow on the eastern horizon. Distant mountains that formed the outer edges of the Dust Sea. She knew, even without the light of the sun that those mountains were red, red like carnelian or jasper. Mitaja's russet coat often blended in with the iron-rich earth if the lighting was right. She held a bundle of cloth in her lap and was absently fingering its tasseled edges. Two weeks ago, at a small mining village, Ridahne had commissioned a standard from a local tailor. She'd insisted on the best materials, and though the man had charged a substantial but reasonable price for his work, Ridahne had paid him a small fortune. "It needs to be your best work, and we won't be here very long," she'd explained. After she'd handed him a little cloth sack of coins, he was eager to do so. It really was beautiful. It would be an heirloom for her house, and it bore her new, modified sigil. It was still a seahorse, its head raised high, but it also incorporated her guardian mark she'd created for herself. It did not obviously mark Darin as the Seed-Bearer, but it was hers and her people would come to know it. It wasn't something she wanted to travel with--she'd leave it with Ajoran or Hadian for the time being--but since she could not slip into Azurei unnoticed, well...she was going to make an entrance.

It was one of the nights where she was more withdrawn, still trying to articulate her own feelings. Darin also seemed to need space to probably do the same and Ridahne was alright with that. She just kept picturing how the meeting with the Sols would go--had they picked a new one to replace Khaltira? Surely by now... Ridahne wondered who she might be, and what kind of person she was. As she was contemplating this, the noticed a shimmer of reflected moonlight in the distance that had not been there before. It was a dim sort of reflection, not the bright glint of white light against water. But instead a faint mist of silvery pale darkness that separated itself from the dark landscape around it.

Dust. From a horse's hooves.

Ridahne rose suddenly. "Darin," she said loudly, sharply. By now, Ridahne did not have to explain further what that tone meant, nor what they needed to do to prepare. Someone was coming directly at them. The elf carefully stashed her new banner in her saddlebags and drew her sword, letting the smooth metal glint off the light of the mostly full moon. The rider came closer, riding hard. Ridahne stood her ground, sword at the ready, when finally the rider drew close enough to see clearly in the moonlight. He checked his brown horse to a stop and dismounted, but hesitated. Ridahne didn't, though.

"Hadian!" She dropped her sword and rushed him as she gasped the word, nearly knocking him over as she wrapped her arms around him. "Hadian!" she choked out again, immediately starting to cry. He squeezed her just as hard, then pulled back to get a look at her.
"Ridahne!" he was crying a little too, but also laughing. "It's you! It's really you! I had a vision that you'd be here and I...I..." his face wrinkled, his own ojih distorting a little as he studied hers. He blinked. "Ridahne, what...is this? I can't read it..."
"That's because I made it. They're new marks. People will learn them in time."
His eyes went wide. "You...made them?" His tone was awed. That was a story he wanted to hear, but he wouldn't ask just yet. "Ridahne I...you...you look so..." He was going to say hard, like a once smooth hand that through long labor, formed callouses. But that felt like it would spoil the moment, so he said, "Different. Older, somehow. I still can't believe you're alive and you're here, and..."

Hadian's breath caught as he seemed to remember why exactly Ridahne had gone away. At the time, the notion seemed fantastical, unrealistic, and a little crazy. But then even he started to hear rumors of a Seed Bearer. His honey gaze slid over to Darin and his mouth dropped open. "Can it be...?" he breathed, taking a step closer. He looked so much like Ridahne, and if it weren't for the inexplicably older, more mature look to him, one might almost guess he was her male twin. But it was clear, too, they had lived different lives. He had calloused hands and wrinkles were just beginning to form at the corners of his eyes--a product of a life spent on the sea and under the relentless ire of the sun. His ojih was simpler and covered less of his face. His demeanor was...softer, too. Physically, he was just as hard and weathered as Ridahne, but his eyes were a little gentler. He was the kind of man who saw much, listened often, and spoke little. If Ridahne was fire, he was the sea. Placid and cool, yet hiding an inexorable will underneath the surface.

Hadian dropped to one knee and breathed, "Astra-Sol!" as he began to bow, but Ridahne caught his shoulder.
"Don't," she said gently, teasingly, knowing Darin would rather not be hailed as royalty. "Stop gaping and get up. I'd...like to introduce you to Darin, though to anyone else, she's Martin Lively and don't forget it. But..." Ridahne drew in a nervous breath and said, "Hadian, this is Darin. Darin, this is my brother."

Hadian eyed Ridahne, reading something in her expression that hadn't quite been said. He was always so good at that. And, gathering from this that he should do away with formalities, he turned back to Darin, closed the gap between them in a couple swift steps, and wrapped her in an iron hug so strong that only a laborer could really achieve it. "Thank you for bringing my sister back to me."

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

That works!

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Yeah, I’m down. Let’s go to Azurei, that’ll be fun. If you want, I can do a second post to kind of intro it

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne could see the satisfaction and approval on Darin's expression and her heart bloomed with it. She was proud of it, of course, but that Darin liked it too made her very happy indeed, and even more assured that she'd chosen her marks well. The gravity of that swirled in her head for a moment, as it sometimes did. She'd just created new ojih marks. She'd altered the fabric of Azurei culture. In a good way, but still...her one act would have a ripple effect that would spread over her whole nation, and even beyond in some ways. Not all of the marks, after all, were just for ojih.

The elf had to laugh. "I can only imagine the looks on people's faces when they see me--people that can read it, anyway. They might think I've gone absolutely mad!" Another roll of laughter overcame her, and there was that same grimly satisfied tone that was in Darin's voice, too. "Good. Let them wonder. It might keep people from screaming at me or throwing stones at me...that's...a thing that might happen when we do get to Azurei..." she admitted with a bit of a cringe. But this new set of marks really would give them all pause, so that was something. But she didn't dwell on that, and simply smiled and made a quick twisting gesture with her slim hand, as if flicking something upward. The exact meaning wasn't obvious, though the general vibe of it was like some kind of salute, or perhaps a toast without a drink. "Here's to the future," she said.

Ridahne nodded through a mouthful of warm porridge and fruit. "Aye, we can get your boots resoled. Mine could probably use some repair, too. It'll be worth going to an herbalist, too. The forest gets thicker for a while as we move south, and so does the wildlife. Mostly the bugs," she said with a disdainful curl of her upper lip. "They aren't deadly or anything--not most of them--but they do have venom, and their effects range from irritating to very painful. And then there's stinging nettles...they're common down south, at least on the Eluri side of the mountains. If you're careful, you can actually brew a tea with them that's alright, but if you brush up against them, they sting and itch and throb something awful. It will be good to have a few remedies on hand for things like that. And anything else you need replaced or think would be useful, we'll get it. Now's the best time for it, since Lihaelen is a trade hub and you'll find almost anything you need here."

Ridahne was a little slower than usual in eating breakfast, as she had to take smaller bites to avoid causing herself too much pain from moving any part of her face. But eventually she finished and the innkeeper took away her scraped-empty bowl. "Well, where to first?" Ridahne asked.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Sorry for the long delay in posting. I’ve been dealing with some thankfully low level depression for the last week or two and I’m not really firing on all cylinders, but I’ll have a reply for you soon I promise!

Of Blood and Bastards

Rohaan had always been at odds with soldiers since the day he knew they existed. It was only the way of things, as normal to Rohaan (and them, for that matter) as the long standing enmity between dogs and cats. He had very little love for them. But in Erik of Strosberg, at least, he found someone who he preferred to do business with compared to types like Karl Valdemar. Weathered soldiers were usually blunt, straightforward, and he always knew where he stood with them. There wasn't so much subterfuge, manipulation, or pomp when dealing with soldiers. In another universe, perhaps they could have gotten along well. But that universe did not exist. Still, Rohaan wasn't a complete monster. If they were going to act civil, he could too.

The blonde's upper lip twitched at the word 'babysitters'. He couldn't think of a more accurate term, and some impish part of him felt like flying off the first day to get to Last Vigil early and maybe spend a few days in peace. But then that would be leaving Ash, and right now she was more important than his petulant rebellion. She was valuable, and the key to gaining freedom for his people. There would be so much more work to do after that, but it would be a start. He needed her alive, and he'd see to it she made it.

A slow, cold smile spread across Rohaan's lips as he looked at Erik. "Tell your men to stand down and behave themselves, and I won't have to eat any of them." The logistics of actually eating someone alive was never worth it, no matter what form he chose, but Erik probably didn't know that. No one did. That was a bit of knowledge only gained from an honest, impulsive try. But he'd let them all think he was capable of it. At the very least, it would make them all think twice about trying to harass him. He shrugged lightly. "Of course, feeding me helps too..."

Rohaan nodded to Ash, then made an unfamiliar hand gesture at Erik that, despite being foreign, had a distinctly and uncharacteristically polite air to it. Was it thanks? Respect? Or curt and indifferent dismissal? Rohaan and Ash made a beeline towards the cache of food laid out. It was no king's table, but that was fine by Rohaan. He knew the value of a simple, honest meal. Especially a hot one. There was a black iron kettle of a basic stew made with what looked like rabbit, potatoes, and some onions that Rohaan was especially excited about, though he made sure to take a heaping plate of the other provender too. Like a raccoon with a specially good prize, Rohaan stole away with the food inside the tent that had been set aside for them instead of opting for a table out in the open. He sat on the floor with a gratified sigh and used one of the low cots as a table. Despite having handily raided Ash's supply of food earlier, he ate with the ravenous fervor of a feral dog. And he really could eat a lot, more than one might expect for a man his size. But when he finally had his fill, he moved the wooden plate and bowl off the cot and threw himself down on it like it was a feather bed.

It was only then that he spoke, his eyes closed. "You got any injuries or anything that need tending? Now's the time. If you've got any deep cuts, I've got a salve that will help keep infection out. It would be a pity if I brought you all that way just to deliver you with a fever or a festering wound or something. Probably wouldn't get paid." A thought popped into his head, and he cracked one cobalt eye open. "You realize you'll be future Emperor some day, right? Er, Empress. I wonder...would you uphold the deal we made, Valdemar and I?" He studied her through that one eye as best he could. "Because I didn't ask for gold. Nohoo, I'm not swayed by gold. Useless to me anyway. The price for my services is a far more complicated thing to give. But would you still give it if Valdemar kicked over a week from now?" He wanted to know what sort of ruler she'd be, and if she considered a deal to be a deal, regardless of what the deal actually was.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Uban's eyebrows twitched up just a little at learning Misk was a man. Mostly, he was just embarrassed he'd mistaken the name of a man in another culture to be a woman's, and he could feel some of his own ignorance when it came to the ways of peoples from all over Carisia. Uban tried to remember if Yawar ever mentioned where exactly he and his crew were from. But only a little of this showed on his face, and he quickly smiled and said, "Aha, I see! Sorry for the mistake. I've got admit, it's veryfun being a free man in a port!" he chuckled. "So many options..." Uban shrugged a little with one shoulder. "I dunno, I do miss Delorah, but honestly, she's not the adventuring sort, and I've become one. Not to mention I'm the second son of a drunk, piss-poor farmer so it's not like I had much to offer her anyway." Another shrug. He thought of her fondly now and again, but he'd accepted his path strayed from hers long ago.

--

Berlin nodded, the wheels turning inside his head as he listened. Two berserkers? Now he really did wonder where they'd come from, because evidently they'd come from the same place. Maybe they got the curse at the same time and for the same reason. He'd ask Wheel about it sometime, he thought. Berlin smiled, inspecting one of his large, calloused hands. "It does have its advantages, that's for sure. These hands have narrowly avoided disaster many times," he chuckled. He didn't mention the weight of responsibility he felt, holding a power like that. He could slip into the innermost chambers of a person's mind in an instant, and though he could not read thoughts, he could command someone to tell him their darkest secrets, their deep fears, and their greatest hopes. To override a man's autonomy was...a sobering experience. One Berlin did not take lightly. The question of genuine trust from those he cared about always plagued him, and it had since he was a boy.

--

Both captains addressed their combined crews, and Kaga-Met offered to share lunch. Berlin smiled. "We'd be honored to break bread with you." He adopted a mischievous air and said, "I might possibly have a cask or two of wine I've had stashed away for a special occasion...I see no reason this couldn't be considered one. Pieter," he said, raising the volume of his voice a little so it would carry. "Bring out the good wine, would you? And every last cup we've got." He then said in a softer tone to Kaga-Met, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to have a...difficult conversation with a very moody shapeshifter."

Berlin did not need to speak to the shifter-cat to summon him to his shoulder; he merely looked at him, nodded his head towards the door of the captain's quarters, and the black cat leapt nimbly from Pieter to Berlin. Behind the closed door, Berlin said, "Alright, take a seat, lad. There's something you and I need to discuss." Somewhat hesitantly, Rohaan jumped from the man's shoulder to the bed, and shifted to his natural form. He said nothing, but those blue eyes of his tracked Berlin intensely. How was he supposed to begin?

"Lad, I know humans have historically not been kind to you. They have hurt you, and robbed you of your home and your family."
Rohaan looked away. "This is my home now," he muttered. There was an unspoken, 'and you are my family' that neither of them needed to hear in words to know to be true.
Berlin smiled. "Yes. It is. You have every reason to hate humans. But do you?"
The boy glowered, thinking of the invaders standing on the deck that had come to his ship, his home. "Kind of."
Berlin's eyebrow raised. "All of them?" he challenged.
Rohaan softened a little. "Well...no."
"I thought not. Hana's not so bad, is she?"
Rohaan shrugged coyly, looking at the floor. "Yeah, I guess she's alright." That, coming from him in a moment where he'd been pressed for a direct answer, was a lot.
Berlin nodded. "And why don't you hate all of them? What makes those few different than the rest?"
"They..." Rohaan thought, screwing up his little face as he considered. "They don't want to hurt me. They don't want me dead. They're...actually nice."
"Aye. Just because someone belongs to a group of people that has wronged you, doesn't mean that individual will. Because people are all different, and they make their own paths in life. Some people choose to be fearful and hateful. Some don't."

Berlin took many breaths before he figured out how to continue. "I'm going to tell you something, Rheoaan. But you have to promise me you won't do anything rash. It might upset you. Do you promise?"
Nervous, Rohaan answered, "Aye."
"If you need to stay in here until you're ready to join us, that's fine. Take all the time you need. I'll make sure you get lunch. But I don't want you going out there until you're calm. Okay?"
"...Okay..."
Berlin sighed. There was nothing for it, he just had to say it. "Captain Kaga-Met and his crew are from Bariz, Rheoaan. They're Barizian." When Rohaan's blue eyes went wide in horror, Berlin was quick to add, "But you just heard him--they are angry at the slavers too and want them dead. They are not slavers and do not condone slavery. They were not the ones who stole you." He could see the shifter's breath quickening as a wild, primal fear gripped him. "In Bariz, there are two...groups. One who uses slaves and bloodshed to accomplish dark magic. The other abhors it. Kaga-Met is the latter. He and his crew are not here to hurt you, Rheoaan. I need you cooperate with them and be civil. You don't have to like them, but they're going to be your battlemates, so you have to learn to work with them. I need you to trust--"

Berlin watched as Rohaan's visage turned on a dime from fear to a boiling, explosive anger. "You traitor!" he howled. He had tears in his eyes. "You traitor, how could you?" Rohaan sprang to his feet, but without any real direction, so he paced like a caged animal and uttered a primal howl, his body shaking with rage. It looked like he was barely restraining himself from burning down the whole world, and the effort left him feeling like he was going to burst.

Berlin reached a hand out for the boy's shoulder. "Rheoaan..."
"Don't touch me!" Rohaan shrieked, slapping Berlin's hand away with a crack.
Berlin recoiled, knowing all too well that a simple slap was the least of what he could have done to him in that situation. Still, the boy's words stung him more than the strike, and more than Rohaan would ever know. The implication in his outraged words were clear. Don't manipulate me. He'd sworn to refrain from doing that as much as possible with his crew, but Rohaan in particular. There had been very few times when Berlin had to restrain him for some reason or another, but he wouldn't dare try to alter his thoughts or feelings about a situation. He thought Rohaan knew that. The fact it had ever come into question tore at Berlin's core.

The man looked down at the boy as he seethed, his white shirt balled in his small fists as he practically squirmed with undirected rage and anger and fear. It was a terrible thing to watch. And for a moment, he saw the dirty, battered, malnourished feral wretch he'd taken in two years ago. The one that had pressed himself into a corner like a wounded spider and had bitten anyone who got too close. The one that had howled and screamed and kicked and bit and clawed when Berlin had tried to treat his injuries. And the one who had wept softly in the dark after he thought Berlin was fast asleep. Berlin sighed. He'd done this before, he could do it again.

"Rheoaan..." he kept his distance this time. "You trust me, don't you? They are not. Here. To hurt you. I promise. I swear to you by the moon and the stars that they want what you want. Vengeance. You'll have it, Rheoaan. I promise." He got no reply, so Berlin straightened. This all felt very familiar indeed. "Alright. I'll leave you be. Just think about what I said about people choosing their own paths, Rheoaan." With that, Berlin exited and shut the door behind him. As the latch clicked into place, he took a moment to allow his troubled exasperation to surface. The man smoothed back the stray strands of his blonde hair that had escaped his ponytail as he leaned heavy against the door, then with a sigh, he gathered his composure and rejoined the group with his back straight and his head held high. Anyone who knew him, though, would see the stormy look in his gray eyes that betrayed his smile.