Storyline: Seeking

It could perhaps be blamed on the boat, the compact new vehicle recently purchased to transport her up and down river between home and Laura, so much sleeker and swifter than the old transport that it was almost fun to feel the wind whipping at her veils. Or maybe it was the stifling sense of foreboding that had been hanging over her head these last few hands, a nagging gray haze slowly encroaching on the edges of her mind, whispers of fear she did not want to name. Whatever the reason, it drove her from the safe embrace of the city's walls, dutiful bondmaid in tow, with one forcibly carefree command: "I want to go for a ride."

The slave prepared the craft for departure, and they settled into their places on the wooden benches, she in the spot best for viewing, the bond at the rudder. Before long, the current and the wind had caught at the little boat, and they were speeding along the bank, past the meadows, past the fishhouse, past the village, into the most beautiful and unspoiled wilderness she had ever seen. In awe, she took in the towering old trees, their lush foliage filtering the sunlight into playful flickers dancing upon the rushing water. And then, at a bend in the river: a waterfall, beckoning.

She knew this was dangerous land, and yet she was drawn forward... the roar of the water pounding against the rocks perhaps the only thing that had been able to drown out the increasing clamor of her subconsciousness. She welcomed the noise, welcomed the distraction. The prow drifted past the waterfall, and her seeking gaze was drawn up, deeper into the shadows of the trees, and the roar of the falls faded into nothingness, replaced by a deafening silence as her world became one singular point of focus: a hidden, but unmistakeable, camp.

The slave's worried prattle broke through her mental fog just long enough for her to hear "...trade point," and she whipped around in her seat, seeing they idled near a small dock on the opposite bank, and suddenly she knew why she had been inexplicably drawn so far from her comfort zone.

She scrambled to her feet and threw herself onto the dock, only vaguely aware of the girl's distressed cries as she clawed her way up the steep hill. Finally she gained purchase at its top, the panicked bondmaid mere steps behind her. She was entranced, caught up by the demands of a flashfire intuition... but she was not so oblivious that she missed the telltale crackle of a goad as it was drawn and armed.

Her fingers trembled with excitement but her eyes were calm, shuttered from a lifetime of practice, as she turned to take in the familiar pale bond, now half-crouched, wide-eyed and scanning the forest, brandishing the wicked tool before her as though she personally would run off anyone with ill intent. With tremendous effort, she kept the tremor from her voice, biting back the eagerness and uncertainty of the woman, projecting only the cool confidence of the Mistress: "Put that away. Kneel. And be silent." Then, even as the words died on her lips, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a voice carried to them from across the river: "Messenger or trade?"

Her reply of Trade! barely had time to make the journey back across the gap before the forest girl had run nimbly across the wooden bridge and stood before her, bronzed skin pulled taut over lean muscles, bow slung crossways over her back, a wild sort of arrogance in her wide-legged stance. This was not the haughty grandeur of a Free Woman, nor the wickedly sensual pride of a slave. This was different. Unthinking, she drew back a step, and her mind screamed at her briefly to run, to get to safety. But she held fast to the puzzle pieces so recently assembled in her mind, and somehow she found herself speaking. She had heard the panthergirls were trackers, and there was someone she was missing. Might their services be for hire?

A flurry of questions followed - Who was she seeking? How long had he been missing? Where was he last seen? - and when it was over, and the panthergirl agreed to convey her request to the Chieftess, she realized she had foolishly initiated trade when she was unprepared to offer payment. Hurriedly, she sought the depths of her bag for some small token of her sincerity, but ultimately was able to offer little more than a jar of salve.

Her initial adrenaline rush began to fade, leaving behind only the anxious thrum of self-preservation, and she bade the huntress safe paths. She and her girl returned to the boat and quickly pushed off, and she sat in silence, wrestling with her thoughts as her girl battled the current towards home.

A plan was forming.

I've had some questions about this so just to clarify, this is a recent roleplay arc I've been pursuing, just translated to story format instead of posting logs.

I'm finishing up transcribing the next incident now, will be back momentarily to post!

Days passed, and she began to despair that she would ever be sought by a slave as the forest girl had said. The hopefulness of that first contact had worn away completely, leaving her berating herself for her meager offering to those whose help she sought. An insult, she decided. It had been an insult to offer so little. Of course they had not sought her. They would not think it worth their time.

But she was determined to find answers, at the very least. It was unlike him to be gone so long. There had been whispers of abandonment, when others thought she could not hear them. She had never been so grateful for her veils as she had been then, cheeks burning with her shame as they had discussed her flaws, as they had examined every discrepancy of recent hushed events, as they had drawn the inevitable and not altogether untrue conclusions. Bright eyes flashing with the well-worn armor of pride, she had laughed off the prying questions and insisted everything was as it should be.

She hoped it was.

Anxiety twisted her gut into knots until she gave up all hope of sleeping. She rose and wandered to the window, looking down on land still shrouded in darkness. Tor-tu-Gor had not yet begun to rise, and the triple moons still hung heavy in the sky, their reflections shimmering on the Laurius below. As she watched, the oppressive blackness lightened, the first long streaks of pink making their way across the horizon, casting the world aglow. She heard her girls stir in the loft room above her, soft feet padding across hard wooden floors, the creak of the ladder and then, finally, the stairs as they made their way out of the house. Their chores would occupy them for ahns.

She dressed quickly, but carefully, choosing her coarsest robes, twisting her thick hair into a tight knot, wrapping her face with a scarf. She left off her customary finery, hiding only two small, ornate pins in her hair before covering them with her hood. It would not do to draw too much attention. She grabbed her kit and an extra satchel, then strode off towards the city, the rising sun warm upon her back.

The city was quiet in the early morning, only the peasants already up and tending to the day's labors. She made a few stops on the way in, purchasing a stone of rough-ground rence flour and another of dried bosk meat, tucking both into the bag slung over her shoulder, ignoring the curious stares of peasants who had seen only her slaves at the market before. Then she slipped briefly into the infirmary, moving quietly lest she wake the Chief Physician in her apartment above, and added bandages, salve, needles and thread to the pack. She would settle her debt with the infirmary at a more reasonable time, and quickly took her leave before the residents of the city began to rouse.

The square was clear of familiar faces, and if her pulse hammered, at least her stride was confident as she brushed by the lone guard at the gate. Perhaps he was asleep on his feet, or perhaps he did not recognize her underneath the rough robes, but in just a few ehn she was wandering free in the meadowlands.

She didn't trust her ability to navigate the forest freely, so she kept the river in sight, knowing it would lead her to her destination. In no time at all she had reached the fishhouse, and her spirits surged. Within the ahn she spied the ramshackle huts of the peasant village, and she cut a wide circle through the tall grasses to avoid it, fearful of anyone who might look at her too closely. Her task was dangerous, but not moreso than her brother's wrath if he should hear of it.

The land at the outskirts of the village was marshy, and her skirts dragged through the mud and filth, slapping against her boots as she fought her way to drier ground. They wrapped around a log, once, and she stumbled, a sharp cry torn from her lips as she caught herself on a wickedly spiny plant. She studied the scratches on her palm and wrist with a scowl, and glared at the plant as though it had caused them intentionally. Shifting the surprisingly heavy bag on her shoulder, she gathered up her sodden skirts in her free hand and pressed onward, following the river for ahns, periodically cataloguing the small landmarks she had memorized the time before: an oddly-shaped tree. A natural pool. A ruined building with a roaring fire.

...wait. She halted then, the birds and insects suddenly obnoxiously loud, a cacophony distorting the sounds of other people who might be moving nearby. She turned slowly in a circle, surveying the forest. No signs of life, but for this fire... and yet she knew she was not alone. Well, if they preferred to hide, that was likely better for her. She rounded the ruins, and suddenly stopped, foot poised in midair as she stood face-to-face with a panthergirl for one heart-stopping ihn. Before she could remember to breathe, the girl had ducked away into the trees, leaving her gawking. Her heart thundered in her chest and, faced with evidence of their proximity and stealth, she once more questioned the sanity of her decision. Laura could hardly spare a Warrior or two to track down one errant man, particularly one who had left of his own free will... and she did not think she could bear any further judgment if she had to ask. No, she would rather know nothing than ask. But would she rather know nothing than continue onward? She didn't have the opportunity to decide before another materialized from the undergrowth, approaching cautiously.

Keen eyes took in the notched arrow as the huntress appeared, and fearful to be mistaken as a threat, she quickly lifted her right hand in greeting, a Tal bursting from her lips. The panthergirl assessed her with sharp, mistrustful eyes as she babbled that she sought the trade point, and for one frightening moment she feared she would be finding her way there as a trade good herself... but then she sheathed her bow and beckoned for her to follow, leading her through the forest on a trail only its inhabitants could make out.

What is your business with the Var Viverra She?

She explained quickly, and the huntress' eyes softened as she described her need, and her urgency. The woman nodded her understanding, and offered to carry a message to the Chieftess. From her kit she drew a bit of paper and scribbled a quick description of the one she sought and the terms she offered. She slung the heavy pack from her shoulder and gave the huntress both the satchel and the note, holding her breath that this time, her offering would be adequate. It seemed well-received, and it was with renewed hope that she turned to leave, whispering a prayer for good news, though she didn't dare to define what that might be.

With well wishes and a final instruction --

Return in two days' time...

-- she nodded, and fled the forest once more.

Wow.... who knew you could write like this! I'm so impressed, I love it!! Thank you for sharing, esp since I wasnt there for the second trip!! Can't wait for the next installment!!

Thanks.

Part 3 was delayed due to the holiday weekend.... but will be posted tonight!

Just to let y'all know, I'm only telling the story here - none of this is scripted, and except for "poke poke are you online? got time to rp?" none of this is planned. If you feel so inspired, please feel free to jump in and play... whether that's directly with me, or with anybody else. The only thing I ask is that you do not solve the mystery for me... otherwise, feel free to stir up as much trouble as you like.

He was standing in the boat, leaning over the side to peer around the sail, when a rogue current jarred the craft and sent him tumbling into the water below. He was a strong swimmer, but he was in the middle of the river, and the dark, reptilian shapes of thalarions had appeared around him, moving swiftly.

He did not even have time to shout for help before he was pulled under, the water thrashing for a few long ehn, and then nothing remained but a faint red foam skimming the surface and an axe sinking to the river floor.

She woke with a start, her light sleeping shift twisted around her legs and sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. Drawing her knees up under her chin, she wrapped her arms around them tightly, resting her cheek on them as she waited for the thunderous beat of her heart to subside.

What is your real interest?

Her mind flashes back to the day prior, once more finding her way to the hidden trading spot in the woods, forest girls seeming to appear out of thin air, the sudden surging hope when one indicates they might have found something.

What is your real interest?

The disappointment when she is shown an unfamiliar sword and an axe with a mangled haft, then the place in the river where they were retrieved. Her probing questions, trying to understand the many pieces of this puzzle, to judge which ones fit, silenced by one offhanded question from the panther...

What is your real interest?

Protestations of her altruistic intentions, of her safety in the city, reassuring herself as much as the one who had asked. The long fingers of dread crawling up her spine, settling at the base of her skull with as much pressure as a man's cruel hand. The panther had asked, and she didn't even know the whole story... What about the city? Did they know about the child? Did they notice the woman who had disappeared at the same time? Or had the latest whispers become the most popular, accusing glances slid her way as she went about her duties: murdered...

What is your real interest?

Only one question haunted her more.

Where was he?

A messenger came, and he was lucky he was Free as she very nearly tore him apart to get to the note he carried.

But it was not from him... it was from an old friend, a mentor of sorts. She had relocated, and was anticipating recovery of a great deal of Caste information. She was inviting her to come, to learn what she could.

She took one look around the empty house and began to pack for travel.

Gideon, awoke once more. Lar-tovis, baking his half naked body to a bright crimson. The storm that had destroyed his boat, long gone, he floats upon some flotsam. Parched, lips cracked and bleeding.

Gulls surround him, much like the carrion birds of the desert. Scavengers as well, they grow bolder as he grows weaker. The salt crystallizes upon his skin. Scouring his tormented flesh.

His head rolls from side to side, once strong muscles now sinewy, his boyish cheeks sunken and hollow. No sign of land.

How long will the Priest Kings, torment him before setting him ashore, or bringing him from his pain? He prays to the Priest Kings, to Odin, to Freya, wondering what god he left un-pleased.

The plank he lays on shifts and rolls under the sea. He is delirious, he dreams of his home, of Laura, of his Companion, she seems so far away, another world. His dry lips crack once more, blood forming in the deep crevasse. "Aria." He would hate her to see him like this, so weak, so frail.

His hand touches his chest softly, remembering the gentle touch of Snow, when she bathed him. He winces, his skin blistered from the heat of the sun.

A wind picks up, blowing him upon his makeshift raft.

The first snap of autumn was in the air when she returned, and her step was lighter than it had been in some time. It had been a welcome diversion... the tedium of travel, the chaos of a strange city made even more chaotic by a political upheaval. She had been oddly comforted to be surrounded by strangers, to be shrouded in relative anonymity, to chat lightly about caste matters or to be entertained with stories of the city's great history. It had, for a moment, been tempting to stay where no one knew her, where she would be judged only by an unknown future, not an ignominious past. A clean slate upon which to draw an entirely new life, one that did not remind her of her failures. But the temptation had been fleeting... even if she had been willing to leave behind all her possessions and accumulated wealth, she could never so easily abandon her family.

But things were different. Not just in her, though assuredly she had changed, too. The city was different. Enough had happened, or perhaps just enough time had passed, but she no longer felt their eyes on her. They had their own issues now, more personal and pressing than mere gossip about hers.

She was calm. Hurt, still, to be sure, with a tiny shadow of inadequacy still pressing itself upon her soul, but she herded it into the furthest recesses of her mind, resignedly locking it away with the other memories and emotions too difficult to keep free. She accepted this. She had accepted worse, in the past.

In this state of mind, she gathered her girls and climbed the towering walls of Laura. The wind tugged at her veil and touched her cheeks as she soaked in the majesty of the view spread out beneath her, comforted as always by the vastness of the world in comparison to one small Free Woman.

The kajira poured a goblet of ka-la-na, and then, surprised by the instruction, a small bowl of the same. She spoke briefly, quiet and subdued. She drank, and the girls drank, and the last of hers she poured over the wall to the soft ground below. A farewell. And, in her heart, a resolution.

With deliberate poise, she turned her back and descended the ladder. Back to ground level, back to work, back to Laura.

As it always would be.