Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ataya enjoyed privacy. He enjoyed peace and quiet, and in the long days that his family sometimes spent in Taliuma with his uncles, he often enjoyed remaining on the second floor in the two-bed room that he shared with his sister while she meandered off. With the ocean-side doors open out onto the second-story deck, the sea breezes rolled in freely, lackadaisical and warm, and he could hear the activity going on down below. A subtle and workable backdrop to the things he handled in private. In this case, spellwork particularly ordained to picking ink text off the page, as had long been his goal since losing his eyesight — a project over a year in the making, now, though he was far closer with some encouraging, if frustratingly limited, hints at partial success scattered along the way.

The boy who worked in his uncle’s shop — and with whom he had had several brief interactions now — had mentioned ysali magic and the inherent plant particles in many inks, which had set Ataya off down his most recent vein of research. Currently, however, he was once again in the recording phase, a small vial of water, a quill, and his icy journal on hand as he scrawled carefully, etching his notes on his work down and jotting thoughts for future attempts. It was mid sentence — and quite without ceremony or warning — that someone, his sister he assumed though was not immediately sure, came bursting through the door to the room he occupied, slamming it a moment later, and then collapsing onto the bed.

Definitely his sister.

Ataya, after composing himself from his brief reaction of stiff wariness, hummed and exhaled, finishing his sentence-in-progress before lifting his quill from the journal’s page and twirling it idly. “So…as a first point, I suppose I should mention I do hope you did not break our uncles’ door…and on a second, would you like to sign a death sentence? I am happy to go hunting if someone has so egregiously wronged my kin as to merit such an impassioned outburst…”

Ataya let the words rest in the air for a moment. Processing them. Giving his sister a chance to extrapolate. Provide context. Anything. When nothing came, he hummed. “He,” he repeated. “Yes, that…does sound tragic. Being a hybrid. Are we talking about our uncle? Because I wasn’t aware this was a grand secret or surprise until this point and must admit I am a touch miffed…”

Ataya tilted his head. ‘Oh. Him.’ Yes, he supposed, that made a bit more sense. “Did he lie?” he said aloud. “Did he tell you he was pureblood? Because I don’t recall him ever asserting as much. You assumed, but…” Ataya shrugged. “It’s dangerous to be what we are. If he is hybrid then he is privileged with genes that allow him to hide it from the general populous. Perhaps he didn’t see fit to correct your erroneous assumptions until he truly trusted you? I can’t quite say I see why you’re upset…evidently he is trusting you with the information, and it only really explains a good deal of things while causing no problems.” He dipped the tip of his quill in water, then paused. “Unless of course you find hybrids revolting for some reason I suppose…”

‘Of course he does. Would the gods have it any other way?’

Aloud, Ataya snorted. “Father will be thrilled. Next I suppose you’ll be inquiring for my aid in a get-away plan so that you might elope and carry out some grand romance without fear of your dearly beloved losing his head?”

Ataya narrowed his eyes. At nothing, of course, but the gesture was habitual and accompanied by a suspicious pursing of his lips as though he had come upon a very disgusting but curious looking insect. “Love,” he repeated. “That’s a distressingly committed concept, now I see why you might be upset. Perhaps you ought best give him some space, or tell him forthright that much as you enjoy his company, you don’t feel comfortable tossing around such permanent and multi-faceted and…disturbing terms that are best applied to family or persons one intends to make family with.”

“Oh.”

Ataya frowned for a moment, letting the words settle in his mind. The consequences, complications, and general overall sweeping vibes of a classic ‘bad idea’ were beyond count. Very little in the situation seemed wise, between a part-orderite hybrid and their father as he was. Simply the fact that Nesrinn was male already counted several hundred points against him, likely, and Ataya didn’t see a healthy or happy end anywhere in sight. But then, what did he really know of love anyway? Perhaps, if they were very very fortunate, his sister would simply…change her mind later. In any case, Nesrinn’s health and head or lack thereof in the future was not precisely his business, so he opted to let the subject rest for the most part.

“Well, good luck, then,” Ataya said aloud. “I suppose if you believe in such things, the favor of the fates will likely be necessary in this instance if things are to see themselves to a positive conclusion.”