Name:Malta Stage:Prentice Race:Yaeli Future Class:Beast Tamer Gender:Female Base Traits:
Empathetic Malta is very attuned to the feelings of others, perhaps too attuned. Sensitive and self conscious, she is hyper aware of how she is – or how she thinks she is – viewed by others, and how others may be effected by her. Usually, she's pretty sure that it's a negative feeling. On the more positive side, however, she has a strong desire to ease the pain of others - even when costs her.
Skittish Malta is a huge coward. Over-cautious and wary, she hides behind others, or behind sturdy structures. Her biggest preference is to be unnoticed, because that is what she feels she is primarily good for. She tries her hardest not to speak up or speak out, even when she might want to. To do so would mean trouble, and she doesn't want trouble. Sometimes, though, she can pull off acts that may seem brave – but here, her fear is still, in a sense, what drives her forward - she is as afraid of what will happen if she doesn't act, just as she is afraid of what will happen if she does. She can still be, quite easily, driven back into hiding by even small and frightening things, but once she decides to act, she will re-emerge from the shadows, driven to complete her task through sheer, terrified, frantic determination. 'Conquering' her fear in this way and successfully helping someone else, however, carries with it such a strong emotional reward for her that the fear ends up being worth it in the end.
Determined Despite being terrified of the world around her and adverse to unwanted attention, Malta still doesn't do anything halfway. When put to something, either on her own initiative or at another's request, she thoroughly works her chubby little butt off and excels. Ask her to study a book on herbs, and she will devour through that thing night and day and have it essentially memorized before Spring rolls around. Ask her to clean the house, and you could eat off any surface by the time she's through. Get her to voice an opinion, and she will stick to that opinion like a tick on a pet. There are few things that delight her more than the sense that she has done something thoroughly right, and so her drive to do her best protects her from her fear, soothing her and encouraging her forward.
Personality:
Malta is afraid of a lot of things. Some would say she's afraid of her own shadow. Others would say that she's afraid of herself, but that would be wrong. She knows that she is not scary, not by any means. Shes a small chubby thing with thick glasses in a big scary world, and not even the spirits are on her side. Malta is convinced that the world is full of forces she does not understand, and they are arrayed against her. She is also sure that a good portion of it is her fault. She doesn't know what she did to make it this way, and feels that if she only knew the reason, then everything would be all right. If she only knew how, then she could fix things (something that she is surprisingly good at.)
Since Malta does not know what caused her to become so inauspicious to her family that she was dumped at an orphanage, she scrutinizes and second guesses everything she does. She tries her hardest and she does her best – and her best is actually very good. She's a smart kid, with an almost eidetic memory, and she will gladly do anything she's set to to the thoroughest of completion. She even knows that she's smart. She even trusts that she has some idea of what she's supposed to be doing. She just has very little confidence in her actions. Until someone in authority tells her she's on the right track, she remains convinced that everything is wrong, or somehow will go wrong, or there's definitely a better way to do it, or it's just not right. She second guesses herself and shies away from complicated and frightening situations.
People, in authority or otherwise, scare her. They do not treat her well, one way or another and she does not entirely trust them. She does feel for them, though. Seeing someone hurt, in pain, and in need of help is a call that she cannot resist, and she will – practically vibrating with terror all the while – leave the safety of being hidden to try to help them. She cannot resist trying – their pain hurts too much – but all the same, people are strange to her, capricious and cruel and unknowable.
Doubly so for non-Yaeli, though she has never met one and never hopes to meet one. She is convinced that the mainlanders and the invaders and whatever else is out there exist – how can they not? The rumors have been growing, and people have seen them. Even Yisette, her guardian has seen them – and have strange powers and abilities beyond her understanding. They are not/would not be people to Malta, but strange entities to be feared and fled from.
Oddly enough, Malta has little fear of animals. Big, small, dangerous, exotic, fluffy, scaly, or slimy – she adores them all. Obviously she would be cautious around ferocious and wild beasts, but she generally believes the best of them, and that there is good and beauty in all of them. Animals make sense to her. They don't spread lies or secrets. Their wants are simple and managable. In a nutshell, where she does not trust people, she trusts beasts. She wants to take care of them, and give them all the love and affection she can because she knows how they will return it, and because she feels that they deserve it. In particular, she finds herself drawn to the biggest and scariest ones, and it is only partially because they are the ones that can protect her, and are strong where she is not. Primarily, it is because she finds them cute.
She wishes she was stronger herself, though, strong enough to take her life and make something out of it. She longs for the strength and courage that others have, and to do something with herself - something good. She simply does not believe that such a thing is achievable – despite her clear intelligence and drive, she believes she is destined to remain in the shadows forever, and that the most she could ever be, is unnoticed and tolerated. Yet, she would like more. Her mind is hungry, ravenous for information, and she feels driven to feats of competence. Yet, at the same time, she is also paralyzed by the fear of doing something wrong. To err may be mortal, but she sees it as potentially fatal. To her, a single mistake could be all that it takes to lead to catastrophe. So, she struggles not to make them, and, not wanting to push her luck, she takes what she can get and tries not to complain too much.
Yet, beneath the fear, there is a further hunger, for more than what she has. In an environment where she was encouraged to thrive, Malta might indeed become something more. Unfortunately, that is not where she is. And, unless things change one way or the other, her desires for more may remain unfulfilled, and she may indeed only be unnoticed and tolerated. Only time – and events – will tell if that will be her fate. Or if, indeed, that is the fate she wants for herself.
Appearance: Chubby Yaeli with thick glasses, a nervous expression, poofy easily-tangled hair, and a lot of awkwardness. The rest I leave up to the capable hands of my preferred artist, Uke, because I trust them.
Malta is bad luck, at least that’s what her parents told the orphankeeper when they left her in her care. Malta doesn't remember doing something to upset the spirits, or anything wrong for that matter, but apparently bad things happened to her family; people got sick, her father lost most of their belongings gambling, and her sister got pregnant from a man she wasn't wed to. This was, apparently, her fault. A priest had said so, thus it was so. It was for the best that she was left here, or at least that is what Malta used to tell herself as she cried herself to sleep with the other children in the orphanage. It was better for them that she wasn't there, ruining things somehow.
Life in the orphanage wasn't bad. The Orphanmother, Tarissa, was kind and sweet and, though Malta was bullied occasionally, she also had friends here and there. Initially trying to isolate herself to prevent her bad luck from 'spreading', the combination of loneliness and the sometimes aggressively gregarious fellow orphans eventually wore her down. She soon convinced herself that they were an exception, inured to bad luck through their own sad histories or through some magic of the orphanage. Indeed, she watched as her friends were adopted by good families, finding homes and care and comfort. She was happy for them... but she remained. It turned out, every time that Tarissa arranged for a family to come for her, a cousin of Malta's 'made sure' that any interested families were aware that she was unlucky and cursed by the spirits, a civic duty that left her alone and to the wind as many families were unwilling to take on an especially unlucky orphan.
Eventually, however, Yisette, a rider, animal trainer, and trader, made an offer to Tarissa to take the girl in. She was single, and her life was not entirely stable, but she claimed to want a child, unlucky or no. Malta was told she was very fortunate to have a home set up, and she believed it. After so many false hopes, she was still optimistic. Things, she determined, would be good.
As it turned out, though, Yisette mainly wanted cheap labor to tend to her home and beasts, reducing the workload on herself and giving her more time to drink and maintain her five (or four, Malta never could tell) boyfriends, who provided her favors, customers, and entertainment. It was very clear that Yisette was not cut out to be a parent, and was not looking for that role besides. To her, Malta was the equivalent of a servant, and was often treated roughly by the woman. Being struck was not uncommon, for infractions large and small, valid and not. Yisette seemed to enjoy having someone small and vulnerable to harass. Malta soon learned to shrink from her, and avoid her while performing chores, because Yisette, surely, would find something amiss and punish her for it. She knew that she should be grateful for the home and care, regardless of the treatment she received, a fact she was constantly reminded of whenever she attempted to squeak out a protest, complaint, suggestion or idea. Not wanting to be ungrateful, Malta soon learned to say nothing and, simply, do as she was told.
There was, however, a bright point in this arrangement – Yisette's beasts. Malta quickly fell in love with the menagerie that made up Yisette's stock, the variety of dangerous and beautiful creatures that the woman sold. Malta loved animals of all kinds, and having contact with these creatures made up for all of the other indignities and brightened her chore-filled days.
Fortunately for her, this was something Yisette encouraged and was happy to train her towards. Gradually, more and more of the beast chores that the trader had once done herself were delegated to her young 'charge', a rare bit of delight in the midst of drudgery. Wanting to learn more about these animals, Malta attempted to study up on them on her own, reading Yisette's texts, notes, and beast-related correspondence when her guardian was too drunk to notice or protest, and sometimes into the night when she could salvage a candle to take with her to the cot in the storage room that made up her living space. She soon read them through, and began to read them again, determined to memorize every word she could. It made her happy to know about the creatures she helped care for... but she wanted to know more.
Unfortunately, there was no such opportunity. Not yet, anyway...
Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2016 9:22 pm
People
Yisette, (Yaeli Rider NPC): Malta's guardian – a free-spirited animal trader who does as she pleases and answers to no one. Frequently drunk and has an easily-riled temper. x Yosef, (Yaeli Rider NPC): A cold, calculating, terrifying friend of Yisette's who intends to own the warbeast Detraeus. x Tarissa, (Yaeli Caretaker NPC): The Orphan-mother of the orphanage that Malta once lived at. Sweet and kind, looks out for her kids. x Lenila, (Yaeli Pickpocket): A fellow orphan that Malta met at the orphanage. Malta admires her for her boldness and, on some level, believes that her stories are true. x Zekiel, (Yaeli Acolyte): A very wonderful person Malta met one day in the rain. That he actively seeks her out must mean that her luck has changed, but aside from that, she just thinks he's wonderful. And beautiful. And all around great. x
Animals
Detraeus, (Janarim - Companion): A brutal warbeast from the mainland covered in scars. He seems to like Malta... or at least, doesn't want to eat her. x , : x
X -❥ Not Far Off (PRP: Machetimin and Malta)* X -❥ Great, Small, Fluffy, and Mean (PRP: Malta and Zekiel)
Abandoned
Complete X -❥ Solo: Arrival (1502 words) X -❥ Solo: The Soldier's Arrival (541 words) X -❥ Solo: Feeding the Beast (2042 words) X -❥ Storms (1649 words) X -❥ META: Yael Journey for Guidance: Lurisin Se XX -❥ Multitasking in the Rain and the flaws therein (PRP: Malta and Zekiel) X -❥ Creepy Crawlers (World Event: Malta and Zekiel) X -❥ Solo: The Tame Mystery (891 words) X -❥ Solo: It Was Eating Scandalous Things (940 words) X -❥ Solo: Undue Interlude (475 words) X -❥ Solo: A Beast's Birth (876 words) XX -❥ Sweet Shivering Strolls (PRP: Malta and Zekiel) X -❥ Noticed (Class Affinity Solo, 1998 words) X -❥ Send them Flying (Class Solo)
Growth: Prentice to Stage 2 RP Points: 25/25 DONE Class Affinity Solo DONE Class Quest Needed
The scenery drifted by clunkily as the beast carried her to her new home. Malta ignored the sinking feeling in her heart – surely, her situation was better now than it had been before! Before, she had been an orphan. Now, she had a guardian to take care of her and look after her, far from the city.
Far indeed... Her new surroundings were rural and swampy. The sparse buildings and open ranges of the place they approached were strange to her, startling amounts of empty space. Well, not quite empty – there were things occupying the space, some familiar, some unfamiliar. Either way, it scared her. Malta shifted uneasily on the limbara's back.
The limbara's rider wasn't doing anything to assuage her fears. Once out of sight of the orphanage, Yisette – the rider who had adopted her, this woman who was to be her guardian, had started to drink. Malta had had a strange vibe about her from the moment she had met her, but now she felt it strongly.
She stared at the rider, who stunk like a still now, and her heart continued to sink. Drink, Malta knew, was not good. But she kept her hopes up – surely, things would be okay here. They had to be.
“Almost there, girl. Don't you fall off, now. I paid good money to take you in, wouldn't want you to get your pretty little head dented from a fall and waste it all, would we?” Yisette's breath smelled of a mixture of darkfruit wine, milk airag, and something sharp that could have been woodnut whiskey. These were familiar smells from her childhood, when she had had a family. That family had been brewers, proud of their work.
The smell brought her back to that time, to a time when she had been loved and then... not. She shuddered and looked away. She hoped she was wanted now, and that she wouldn't bring bad luck upon this household. There was another smell beneath those smells – rot. Decay. She closed her eyes to the acrid smell. Would things really, really, be okay here?
And then, over all of those scents, a brown, earthy smell equal parts unpleasant and dusky. She sniffed the wind... was it manure?
“Smell that, girl?” Malta opened her eyes and looked up at the woman, “That's s**t. Good quality s**t. And you get to shovel it. Lucky you!” Yisette's laugh was hard and bruising,like being beaten with marbles. Malta's stomach lurched at the sound, and she tried to stay optimistic.
“... Why will I be shoveling.... that?” Malta asked haltingly.
“Because the beasts put it out, that's why.” snickered Yisette. She pulled up on the reigns and the limbara halted with a great huff. “Here we are, then. “ she said, “My home.”
“Beasts?”
“Yeah, beasts.” Yisette held out her arm for Malta to come down. “What are you, stupid? What did you think I did?”
Malta hadn't been paying attention when the arrangements to put her under Yisette's guardianship had been made, but she paid attention now as she tentatively let Yisette help her down. She caught a glimpse of the world around her – broad, imposing wooden buildings and fenced paddocks – before Yisette's arm was suddenly withdrawn. Malta toppled to the ground, feeling soft mud give beneath her and cusion her fall.
“Oops.” Yisette cackled. Malta looked up at her in stunned fear. That, she knew, had been intentionally done. But why? This time, no hand was offered. Covered in dirt – thankfully, not manure – Malta staggered to her feet. “Look at you, barely able to stand, hahaha! You're a hoot!” Malta blushed, her gaze shying away from Yisette's. Words died in her throat – she had nothing to say. “All right, come on. I'll show you around.”
Malta followed warily, looking up – and up – at the limbara as a forgettable looking man took him away to a paddock.
“This...” Yisette showed her a building the size of a small house. There was a sign outside of it painted in large half-rotted letters. “Is the store. It's where I do my business and keep some of the smaller, flashier beasties. I catch, trade, and sell beasts, you see, that's my business. If you're really good, I might let you behind the counter. Might.”
“What... would I do behind the counter?” Malta asked, confused.
“Sell beasts, obviously. Or do my books for me – I hear you can do maths...” Malta nodded, confirming, “Well, we'll see, right? I've got other people I can ask, but you'll be cheaper for it.” Another laugh. Another swig of the bottle. “All right, moving on. You'll see inside it soon enough.”
Malta hustled to keep up with the rider, taking a moment to read the sign - 'Beasts, Near and Far' before scampering after Yisette.
“Keep up, girl!” the woman crowed, “Or I'll beat you until you do!”
“Y-y-yes ma'am!” Malta quailed, moving as fast as she could and nearly tripping over herself as they crossed the flat plain of the ranch. They approached to a large monster of a building that squatted at the edge of a thicket of trees. Nearby, also, were heavy barrels of water and a large fenced in area. It was a lot of building, and a lot of empty space.
“This is the barn, where I keep the big beasts. It's also where I'm putting you up, since I don't want your orphan-germs in my house.” she pointed across the way at a tiny little shack half hidden by a grove of mushroom-trees, “Not that I won't make you clean it anyway, it's just not where you'll be sleeping.” Somehow, Malta was glad of that. She didn't want to sleep anywhere near this woman.
Yisette walked in through a massive thick door and beckoned Malta inside. The moment Malta crossed the threshold, she was overwhelmed by warm, living smells. It was dark and musky and alive – imminently comforting. For a moment, Malta suddenly felt all right about this arrangement.
“You make your own bed,” Yisette said, “I'd suggest the loft up there, with all the hay, but so long as you don't make my beasts sick or scare customers off, I don't give a damn what you do.”
“I... I'd never!” Malta protested, looking around her in awe as her eyes adjusted to the lower light. There were so many animals here – big ones, small ones, fluffy ones, scaly ones... they were so fascinating and lovely. “I'd never make them sick!”
“You'd better not.” somehow, Malta thought that Yisette approved of her answer, though she wasn't sure. She was quickly learning that the woman was unpredictable. “Out there...” they left the soothing darkness of the barn for the wide open space once more. “This is the paddock. One of them. There are several. Animals I'm training go out here, also animals being exercised, or animals that can't be kept in the barn...” she flashed a carnivorous smile at Malta, “Because they'd rip it up... and eat you up...” she watched as Malta squirmed, “That sort of thing. You'll be in charge of...” Yisette thought for a moment, “Well, you do whatever I want you to do, whatever I ask. You're not really in charge of anything, really. But we'll work you hard, don't you worry.”
“U-um...” Malta faltered, summoning what courage she had to ask a question. “Um, why? I'm... you're my guardian, and... Kyah!” she cried out as her cheek exploded into pain. Yisette shook out her hand and watched as Malta recovered from the slap.
“That's right, and you're damn lucky. No one else will take you because you're unlucky gutter trash. No good to be someone's child or heir. I took you in because I don't care about bad luck auras or whatever – I make my own luck – but don't think for a moment that life's going to be easy here. You're my servant, girl. You'll do everything I say and make my life real easy-like. And you'll be grateful for it, because you ain't going to get anything better.” Yisette contemplated Malta for a moment, “And if you ain't grateful, I'll beat you until you are. And you'll be grateful for that, too. Are we clear?”
Malta stared at her.
“Are we clear, girl, or do I gotta slap you again?”
Malta nodded, looking at the ground miserably.
“Good. Good. You catch on fast. Now come along – I'll show you the house and what you'll be needing to do for me...”
Malta followed, taking a last, reassuring look at the barn – and apparently her sleeping quarters. That, at least, was a good thing about this whole arrangement.
She frowned deeply, finally allowing that sinking feeling to sink in. Things would be okay. Just... not as okay as she had hoped.
Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2016 10:56 pm
The Soldier's Arrival Solo Malta, Yisette, Detraeus 541 Words
Malta was cleaning a trough, up to her elbows in muck that clearly hadn't been cleaned out in a long time, when HE came.
He was not a person in the general sense of the word, but a great beast from the mainland. Plated like a limbara, he was fanged and powerful in ways that the volcanic beasts weren't. He pulled against the leashes that bound him, resisting all efforts to retrieve it from the reinforced wooden crate that had been wheeled into the range. He roared and crashed, and Malta could see it's tail – thick and bulbous like a club – tear through one of the crate's walls.
He was incredible.
“Come on, boys!” Yisette called, tugging on a rope herself with several of her workers and boyfriends – Malta couldn't tell who was what - “Lets get him out of this box, here!”
Him... Yes, Malta could believe that the dark beast was a male, from the masculine ridges and the way he was acting; desperate, fierce, powerful... though, she supposed a female beast could act this way, too. Really, who knew with Mainland animals? She dumped the cleaning water out of the trough and scrubbed away the dirt as perfectly as she could – only the best for the creatures, after all, they deserved it. She picked up the bucket of fresh water she'd taken from the well and refilled the trough, watching the fray idly.
The beast roared and thrashed, his crate splintering as he fought to stay inside it. He reared, lifting one of the workers off of the ground and flinging him aside into the fence. Malta winced at the sound of impact.
Yisette whooped as she fought the beast, “Wooo! He's just as feisty as promised! Put your backs into it, boys! Come on, heave – ho! Ahahaha!”
Of course, Yisette would see it as fun, but Malta, carrying another bucket for the trough, could only see the the beast's wrath and distress. How far had he come in that cage? How long had that been his safe space? Through the boat voyage to Yael, at least, from the sick-stain on the side of the splintered wood. What a long way from home... poor thing.
Malta understood the feeling of a cage as shelter – she felt it too, at times, alone in her loft, and she had seen it in so many animals. One had to treat them gently, kindly, to get them used to the idea that outside of the cage was also safe. But here, it was being forcibly taken away and there was nothing she could do.
She watched as the beast thrashed again, tangling his mighty head in the ropes enough for the men to bring him to heel. “HaHA! Got 'im!” Yisette crowed. They began to drag him out, his claws leaving deep gouges in the wooden floor of the crate and in the ramp that led down to the range, “Get him good and tied – out here, if you would, boys...” The beast reared back it's massive, obsidian head and howled.
Malta turned away with her bucket and slipped off to her other chores. He was magificent... And there was nothing she could do.
The smell of raw meat was overpowering in the temperature controlled feed room as Malta prepared food for the other animals. She looked with some misgiving at the carcasses awaiting processing, but it couldn't be helped – some animals ate meat, after all, and it was best for them to eat meat even when kept in cages.
“Hey, pudgey,” one of the hands peered around the door at her. Malta shied away from his gaze – she didn't like him. She didn't like any of them, honestly. “Mistress wants you to bring out a bucket of meat – large pieces, good and bloody she says.” Malta nodded, hoping it would make him go away. “Oh, and she says...” the man's face twisted into something grotesquely mocking, “Chop-chop!” he mimed the sound, and laughed, leaving her in peace. .
“That wasn't funny...” Malta said sadly to the inanimate feed and animal carcasses. “A bucket of meat... who is it for, I wonder?” There were many animals kept outside that ate meat, but they also ate plants and mushrooms or fed themselves well enough. And for the most part, they took small pieces. She got out the cutting knife – rusty with blood and very sharp – and started filling a bucket with pieces of the carcass. An idea hit her. “Could it be...?” she wondered out loud, could it be for the big beast that had just come in? He certainly had looked like a meat eater – sharp teeth, the strength of a predator, forward-set eyes... “Yes, that is probably what this is about.” she said, nodding as she threw in a few fresh bones for good measure and carried the hefty bucket outside.
It was a mild day. The sun was bright, but not too bright, and the air was warm, but not too warm. Yisette stood with a man by the edge of the pen, grinning as she held a whip idly in her hands. The beast paced with violent grace, straining against it's bounds. Malta watched as it roared and attempted to lunge at Yisette, it's dark eyes blazing with rage. Yisette stung it with her whip until it retreated to the center of the pen, glowering at them with rage.
“Did you see that, Yosef? That is a Janarim.” she said to the man next to her, “I'm told that it's the biggest, best warbeast the mainlanders have.” it growled, and Yisette laughed uproariously, “And as you can see, he's a fierce one!” she took a swig from the bottle she held in her other hand, chuckling gleefully.
“I can certainly see that.” said Yosef.
“It was specially trained for war – look at those scars!” Yisette said appreciatively. As Malta came closer, she could see them – deep, discolored furrows in the beast's scaly, plated hide. Some looked like whip-scars, others like burn marks. Whips and brands? Malta's skin shivered in sympathy.
They must, she thought, still hurt.
“Well trained.” Yisette repeated. “Means that some of my work has been done for me already. But we'll see what we can do here... how about it? You like him?”
“Hmm. He's powerful, yes, but Yisette... can he be tamed?” Yosef's voice was cold, calculating, clicking like teeth on Malta's ears. “I will not ride an animal into battle who may well bite my arm off!”
“But that's where the fun is!” Yisette joked, “But nah, rest assured, I'll have him tamed...” She looked around impatiently, “Now where is that... ah! Girl! Get over here!”
“I... I have the meat.” Malta called to her, hoping – as she always did – that something other than amusement or scorn would show on her guardian's face. Instead, she received a crack from the whip's tip, just a foot away from her. She flinched.
“Good, get it over here. Move your feet, or I'll feed you to him.” She cracked the whip again. “See,” she said, turning back to Yosef, “Here's the first step in taming him – feeding him. Animals are simple beasts – they only want food, water, and shelter. If you show them that that's what you can give them, eventually they get it. They behave.”
“The same...” Yosef's eyes drifted to Malta as she hastened over. His gaze was unnerving – hard and assessing like a predator. “... could be said of people.”
“Eh, I'm not good with people.” Yisette shrugged, “Anyway, he's clearly a smart creature – we're going to show him that only good behavior'll get him his noshes. Moving up from that, if he's really good and won't eat anyone we don't want him to, we'll get him a nice crate. If he's very naughty, I'll leave him without water and see how that goes.”
“You would deprive it of basic necessities? Would that not backfire? Might he not die?” Yosef, it appeared, made very good points. Malta, suddenly, was afraid of what could happen to the noble, brutal beast, trapped in his pen.
“If it does, we try other things.” She shrugged, “Them's just the basics. And he won't die. You'll have your beast.”
“Hmph. I am already paying you a significant amount to train him, and I intend to purchase him for a large sum when he's done. Make this worth my money, Yisette.” He hadn't said Or Else, but Malta could feel it in the air.
“Don't worry.” Yisette returned her attention to Malta, and Malta wished she hadn't. “All right girl, go in and feed him.”
“I... what?” Malta quailed. She was, obviously, not opposed to feeding the beast, and she did feel sorry for it, but that didn't mean she wanted to risk life and limb trying to hand him pieces of meat. “But...”
Another crack of the whip. “Get in there, girl, and feed him, or you get the whip.”
Malta looked in uneasily at the sullen creature, then back at Yisette. “I... no!”
The whip licked her skin, leaving the feeling of fire in it's wake. She cried out, nearly dropping the bucket and it's contents onto the filthy ground. “Go in, girl, or I'll feed you to him!”
Yosef sniffed. “Why are we bothering to send her in at all? Why not simply... toss him the scraps?” Malta wasn't sure she was happy about him being on her side, but it was still her side. And sensible. She didn't want to be eaten.
“Well, we want him to get used to people giving him food.” She gave Malta's ankles a snap with the whip, “and she's less threatening than a worm, you see what I mean?”
“And if she gets injured?” Yosef was asking the question on Malta's mind. What if she was injured? What if she was killed?
“Nah, she won't be, will you girl? You're quick on your feet, you'll figure something out...” she grabbed Malta's shoulder, opened the gate she was leaning on, and shoved her in. “And if she doesn't...” she said, turning to Yosef and lifting the whip menacingly towards Malta, “Well, it will at least be amusing.”
“Hmm.” Yosef didn't seem convinced. Malta wasn't either. Nor was the beast. She looked at him warily. He watched her, equally wary, his eyes dark and fierce.
I wanted to do something for you... she tried to say with her body language, knowing that she probably failed, This wasn't what I had in mind... She glanced at Yisette again, seriously considering, for the first time since she'd come under Yisette's guardianship (metaphorically), actually running away. But she couldn't leave – here she had a loft full of wet, smelly straw and a roof over her head. Here she had animals to keep her company. If she didn't have this, if she was on the streets on her own... she wasn't Len. She couldn't survive. She'd be dead and gone and worse.
Worse than the teeth of a beast? I think it would be much worse. she thought, steeling herself even though her knees wobbled. Please don't kill me she begged the beast silently, edging closer to him, Please just take the food and don't kill me...
The beast crouched, watching her tensely. At any moment, he could run at her. He could probably catch her easily, crush her with his weight, slice her to ribbons with his claws. She was sure it would be easy for him to eat her. So easy. Too easy.
A rumbling growl echoed from the scarred barrel of his chest – a warning. I should be glad that he's giving me a warning! Malta thought, stopping still. She slowly reached into the bucket and grasped a piece of slimy meat. She was still a little far, but maybe she could toss him something from here.
“Get closer, girl!” called Yisette from the fence, making Malta twitch, “Don't be a coward, go closer!”
Malta figured she could give it a try. Another step. Another.
“Gods, this is almost boring.” Yisette lamented loudly, “Come on, run around a little, girl!”
Malta ignored her. The beast's eyes bored into her - this was as far as she wanted to go. “Shh. Shh... Here, see, here's your meat.” she held up the piece of meat and gently tossed it in front of the creature. He continued to stare at her. She could only imagine the fear and malice behind his unreadable eyes. “It's good meat. Here. H-here...” she tossed him another piece. He continued to ignore it. She swallowed, fear making it painful. “I'll just... put the bucket... over here...” she said, moving forward a few steps more and placing the bucket down. She raised her hands in the universal 'harmless' gesture. “And... I'll go, okay?” she backed away, “Okay?”
Malta took not being mauled as a good sign, though she wondered why he was so immobile, so staring. Had Yisette truly schooled him that badly with her whip, or was he... planning something? No. Malta wanted to think the best of him, even if he was a deadly creature. He couldn't be that nasty. Only people were capable of that.
She was most of the way back when it happened. Malta's heart nearly leapt out of her chest as, suddenly, the janarim surged forward, a tidal wave of muscle and scale. She was sure he was going to eat her, then and there... until he stopped to pick up the bucket full of meat. With a mighty heave of his powerful neck, he flung the bucket at Malta, nearly hitting her with it. He did not miss with it's contents – meat chunks splattered over her and over the dirt of the field.
He roared at her and Malta ran for it, ducking under the fence and giving it a wide berth, gasping in terror even as she dripped with blood and muck. A self assessment reassured her that she was unharmed, and she became suddenly and keenly aware of Yisette and the man. They were laughing at her. She looked at them, eyes wide in horror.
“That was hilarious!” Yisette crowed, throwing in a few whip-cracks for good measure, “The look on your face... the bucket... ahahaha! I should make you feed him every day, get an audience to watch! Hahaha!”
“It was... interesting...” admitted Yosef, “I just hope you do not ruin my new beast, Yisette.”
“Don't worry.” Yisette cracked the whip again, “All right, girl, get out of here and get your filthy face washed up. You know what to do after that, don't you?”
Yes. Chores. Malta backed away and loped off to do just that before Yisette could strike her with her whip again.
As she fled from her guardian, she caught a glimpse of Janarim. He had taken up his place back in the center of the now meat-strewn range, glaring at her. He looked... amused? Was the Janarim amused? Malta had no way to tell, but the rage-filled defiance with which he watched her also carried something of satisfaction to it, and Malta felt... stupidly happy for it. There had been something she could do for him after all.
Posted: Fri Dec 02, 2016 9:31 am
Storms Class Affinity Solo Malta, Detraeus 1649 Words
The sky rumbled sullenly, darkening into a deep bruise-purple limned with grey. Malta looked up at the sky with misgiving at the roiling clouds before hastening into the barn with her heavy load of new hay. Rain pattered in her wake, and she breathed a sigh of relief at missing it's fall.
Lightning flashed through the barn windows, throwing the stalls into heavy relief. Thunder followed on it's tail. Malta stacked the bales of hay and did not flinch – she had, long ago, stopped fearing thunder and lighting. Yisette's animals, however, paced and wickered, unsettled by the invisible presence of the storm. They feared it.
Night fell, a grey darkness punctuated by rain pattering on the roof. Malta lit the lamps in the barn and scampered into her loft as the animals cried out in distress. Malta could sympathize with them – after all, she had feared it once, too. She'd learned that if she let herself melt into the other sounds, then the thunder stopped being so frightening. Occupying herself with a chore, reading aloud, or listening to one of Lenila's stories also had worked. In the end, though, she had learned to see the storm as a good thing, something that refreshed the air and helped plants grow. In the end, there were enough things to fear without it.
The animals did not understand the storm. It's loud noises and subtle pressure drove them into a half panic. Rain fell softly through the gaps in the thatching, stinging skin and hide with chilly water. I'll have to fix that... Malta said to herself. She'd have to learn how to thatch first, though, and Yisette didn't seem to want to teach her just yet. She'd have to learn on her own, and unless Yisette got the roof fixed some other way, the animals would just have to wait.
She peered out of the vent that connected her loft to the outside world, watching the animals outside huddle into their shelters. Their inadequate shelters – Malta could see many areas of them that could be improved. Yisette had said, too, that they needed to be repaired, but she'd spent the last week mostly drunk and hadn't brought anyone in to fix it. Another thing to fix Malta thought, sadly. She was no carpenter, but she could at least give the outdoor animals something rudimentary, safe, sheltering, and warm. Tomorrow. she promised them, so long as Yisette didn't make her do something else first.
The janarim, Detraeus, had it the worst of them all. She could see him from her window, pacing uneasily. He was a desert creature, she knew. What must he think of the rain? It was clear that he didn't like it. He flinched away from the raindrops and shivered at the thunder. She could hear him growling, even from here. Poor thing, she thought, He's scared too. His shelter was the worst of all – it was just a corner with a roof, and barely that.
She pulled out her blankets and made herself a cozy nest against the storm's chill. She huddled into it, chewing on a piece of hard fruit that she'd stored away in her loft for later. The leftover scraps and gruel that had formed her meal had long ago been digested. She was thankful that Lenila had taught her how to take a little extra and how to hide it for later, away from prying eyes.
”Just in case” she'd said.
Malta had encountered a lot of 'just in case' moments in recent days. She wondered, briefly, if she should steal food from the feed room to supplement herself. Some of it was edible by humans, and a good number of it could be edible if cooked. The stealing itself wasn't the issue – it was who she would be stealing it from: The animals. Her friends. They didn't deserve to be stolen from.
They didn't deserve to be afraid, either.
Malta unwrapped herself from her blankets and climbed quickly down the ladder. “Shh, shhh...” she murmured softly to the beasts, going from stall to stall. She stroked any that would take comfort from her hand, and attempted to stroke even the animals that attempted to attack her through the bars. She avoided their frantic, panicked strikes, and gave them a smile. “It'll be all right.” she said, tossing blanket nests into dry corners for those animals that seemed to need it.
She opened the door a crack and peered out into the rain, wrinkling her nose. It was coming down hard – she didn't think she could make it to the store to comfort the animals in their cages, or the animals outside. And – she listened to the whimpers echoing through the barn – it was clear that her current efforts were not enough here. She closed the door against the wet breeze, thinking. What could she do that would soothe them more? That would soothe even the ones who cowered in a corner, away from all comfort?
Well, what helped me? she wondered, searching in her own past to find an answer. She'd listened to stories, she'd huddled into blankets, she'd...
She had read.
She scurried back up her ladder and grabbed her favorite book, dog eared and foxed from frequent reading: the Creatures of Tendaji. Written by an explorer from long ago, it was her constant companion and guide to the beasts that Yisette kept. Sometimes, it was incomplete, but for the most part it served her well. She opened it up and began to read in a clear, calm, level voice. She knew it's passages by heart, of course, but it was still pleasant to hold a book in her hands, to open it and read its words out loud, to bring the pages to life.
She read about the vast mainland plains where colorful birds dwelt and frolicked, and the harsh mountains that bit at the sky. She read of the flying beasts that lay delicious eggs, and how to carry those eggs back and hatch them. She read of monster and meekling, brute and imp, and slowly, around her, the animals began to calm.
It's working! she exclaimed happily to herself. She read for a little while more, and was about to close the book when she heard, on the tail of a rumble of thunder, an anguished howl. Poor Detraeus... she thought... and then an idea occurred to her. What if reading could help him, too? Wouldn't that be lovely?
“I could give it a try.” she said out loud, picking up her ratty cloak and draping it over herself and the book. After a moment of hesitation she left the book inside. After all, she didn't want to get it wet, and she didn't actually need it.
She ran through the rain to his pen, approaching as close as she dared to the fence where he paced and shook. “Hello.” she said, receiving a glance and a growl in return, “I thought you might be lonely?” He continued to pace and growl, ignoring her for the most part. “Well, even if you aren't, I didn't want to leave you completely alone. Sorry.” she apologized. She drew a little closer, “I'm going to... read... to you, okay?” Obviously, without the book, but in her mind she could see it – clear as day. Perhaps she had a passage that would soothe him. She sat in the mud and took a deep breath.
“The Janarim,” she began, “Is a great beast of the sands. Though bred for battle, it also runs wild – taller than a man and as big as a limbara, the janarim is a massive predator. It can kill with a simple swipe of it's claws, and it's bite can easily break bone. It is a fearsome creature, but not a lonely one...” she began. Initially, she was ignored. Eventually, however, as she delved into descriptions (slightly stumbled through) of the habitat and habits of janarim packs, she saw, out of the corner of her eyes, a difference in attitude. She watched as his pacing slowed, gradually being replaced with wary interest.
Thunder growled, and he twitched, looking up with his teeth bared, his whole body tense. She continued. “Grown Janarim cannot be tamed when captured from the wild, though wild bulls are occasionally encouraged to breed with captive females to produce superior offspring. Janarim cubs, however, can be trained from the wild. Janarim intended for companions are generally preferred to have been bred for it. When bred in captivity, they are trained from birth to be companions, mounts, and beasts of war...” she paused, “I wonder which you are?” she said to Detraeus, “Was your sire a wild janarim? Were you?” He glared at her. “You probably don't know what I'm saying.” she admitted, chuckling, “You definitely don't know. Why should you?” He growled, low and quiet, staring at her intensely. “What?” she asked him, “Do you want me to stop? I can stop. I'm sorry, I thought it was helping you...” He growled again. “Do you want me to keep going?” He growled again. “No? Yes?” She studied his body language, and determined that she had no idea what the beast was thinking. “All right,” she said, erring on the side of what she wanted to do herself, “I'll keep going.” she said, reciting something different, a story that Lenila had told her one dark and stormy night, full of adventure and bravery, as they often were.
Detraeus quieted, seeming to listen. Malta couldn't help but smile, proud of herself for having guessed correctly. She spoke to him until the storm lightened and her voice grew hoarse, then stood to leave. He made a sound – not as malicious as his sounds of before. Almost... querulous. “Sure.” she said, giggling, “I'll read to you again sometime!”
It was not huge, but the way it carried it's weight made it seem larger than the few feet that made up its length. With the massive bulging hump on its back and its fleshy feet, it should, in Malta's opinion, look ungainly. Yet the lines of its legs and its sturdy stance quashed all sense of strangeness. It was a beast that knew what it was, and was confident in what it could do.
It glowered passively at the ranch hands that dragged it along, idly dawdling until its rope was pulled taut in front of it. "Stubborn thing!" one of them said, impressed. "Its a strong one, thats for sure."
Malta dumped her bucket in a nearby trough, filling it with clean water as the beast passed languidly by. "Um, excuse me..." she said, hesitantly.
"Hey runt." one of them greeted her, "Look at this critter! The boss just got it in."
"Y-yes. What is it?" Curiousity kept her from backing down – the workers were intimidating, even the kinder ones.
"It's some kind of... mountain critter. A pack beast, or something. But look at them horns!"
"Seems like all mainland animals have weapons of some sort. Claws... talons... but can you really blame 'em?" remarked the other one, "'tis the mainland, after all."
"Mm!" Malta said. Now that she thought about it, all creatures from the mainland had some kind of natural weapon. Though this one was placid, she was sure it could be dangerous if it needed to be. Were the mainlanders truly so dangerous that even the most peaceful of beasts needed to defend themselves? From her book, it certainly seemed that way. "But... what is it?"
"No idea. You're the one who knows everything. Isn't it in that little book of yours?" they taunted. Malta shrank back.
"I... I don't know! Maybe!" she said, backing away a little.
"Maybe, she says!" the other one scoffed, "Maybe if she spent more time doing her chores instead of looking in books, she'd actually be worth something..."
"Hey, that's not fair. Books make you smart."
"Whatever you say."
Malta took their bickering as an opportunity to escape from them, her mind racing through the memorized pages of the book. But no description she could summon up compared to the strangeness of the creature she had seen. Maybe if she took another look...?
---
The creature took up residence in the barn - her barn. She had started thinking of it as that after a few weeks of sleeping there. Yisette had probably not been intending to do something nice for her - the loft was drafty and tiny and smelled of hay, and she wouldn't have to roll far to fall and break her neck. But it was safe enough, and full of animals.
When night fell and all was quiet, she took a 'borrowed' candle stump, lit it with equally borrowed flint, and scurried down her ladder. It was a juggle to carry the book and the candle at the same time - a lamp would have been better - but she'd been repremanded for using the oil before, and her light spell left much to be desired.
So, until the oil stocks were replentished, she had to observe the new creature by candlelight. It seemed to be settling in well, eating its foot with gusto and apparently being contented. "What are you?" she said, once she'd taken the unlit candle from her mouth. It tasted horrible, but it was the best way to carry it. She lit the candle and shone it into the stall. "What are you?"
Horns. Hump. Fleshy hooves. Mountains. That was the clue she'd need. She flipped the well-worn pages of the book to the section on Sauti and Zena. This, she determined, was not a sermal or a drund. It was too bulky to be feline, and too soft to be a stone-beast. It was too big to be a roati, though it had horns and hooves... Ah!
She flipped to the page and pointed at the description excitedly. "Broad of shoulder and strong of back, this humped creature bears large curling horns and coarse fur. It is called a capramel, or a capra, and it is herded by the mainlanders of Sauti for meat, milk, and fur." She squinted at the strange creature in the candlelight. "That sounds like you." she said to it.
It did. Apparently, they were herbivores, and able to survive harsh conditions with the hump on its back, which contained food reserves. They reminded her (and the explorer) of a Quiristine, but - perhaps - more passive and tame. And apparently, they were important - there were several pages worth of information on the creatures - their colors, their habits, the care and feeding, rituals that the explorer had observed... "Huh! I wonder why I didn't think of it before." but Malta already knew. Reading about a creature was not the same as seeing it, after all. She'd learned that with the Janarim, Detraeus, and with the other exotic beasts she saw on the ranch. But now she knew - this was a capramel, and there was no need to fear it.
"Well then, hello capramel!" Malta said, "Nice to meet you."
The capramel huffed. Malta took that as acceptance.
Posted: Tue Apr 25, 2017 10:21 pm
It Was Eating Scandalous Things Solo Malta, Capramel 940 Words
Malta always relished a chance to shelter in the barn during hard rains. Often, she didn't have a choice – the rains caught her out in the fields and paddocks, and she had to endure the rains... or find what shelter she could in the debatable safety of the tree line. Or, at night, Detraeus called her forth to sit by him and she could not in good conscience refuse despite ending up being drenched at the end.
Today, though, her duties involved guarding personal shipments in the barn - Yisette had ordered items from a trader in the city, and those items, she had said, were to be guarded with Malta's life.
Malta had no idea why she, specifically, had been asked to do this, though it occurred to her that her position as Yisette's 'personal' help could actually mean this, instead of 'that orphan she can hit with impunity'. This was the first time that it had been so, however.
The items took the form of a wrapped parcel, waterproofed to protect it from the rain. Malta touched it tentatively - it gave. It was soft, cloth perhaps? She wasn't sure - it was too wrapped up to tell, and she certainly was not doing more than touching it.
She was alone in the barn, save for the beasts. Most of them would have been out if not for the rain, but the capramel held her attention - she (it was a confirmed female at this point) had been lethargic lately. Malta felt that maybe a walk would be good for her, but the other night, when she'd snuck in with a rope leash to try to lead her around a little, the capramel hadn't seemed interested.
Malta hoped she wasn't sick. She didn't like it when the beasts were ill - they seemed so miserable and there was so little she could do for them. Less, almost, than what would be done for her if she was sick. People might not care about her, but they'd at least be able to understand her. Beasts did not have that luxury.
Because the capramel was tame, Malta had been able to touch her, at least. She wasn't hot, which meant no fever. She was eating and drinking, which was also a good sign - mostly, animals went off their feed when they were ill. Still, she clearly did not want to move around. Even now, in the middle of day, as the rains poured against the ceiling, she seemed to be content in her little corner. Yet before, she'd been willing to move around. In fact, that was a capramel's natural state, according to her books - to move, from place to place, chewing hard, tough grasses as they went.
"Lets see if I can't find out what's wrong with you now..." she said to the capramel, slipping off to get her book of animal ailments. She'd purchased it with what little allowance she was allowed in a bookstore, a book to add to her hidden library. She took out the ratty piece of scrap leather that served as a bookmark. "Ah, we left off here..."she exclaimed, adjusting her glasses as she began to read again.
It was dense stuff. Malta's own mind worked against her as it tried to tackle the monumental task of remembering every single detail. Progress through the book was achingly slow. "Well, you don't have that." she said, flipping past a passage on 'dung disorders'. Thankfully, the capramel's dung was normal... and she would know, given that she mucked out the stall every day.
The capramel huffed. "And you haven't injured yourself, have you...?" she gave the capramel a look over. No injuries. No signs of infection. That was good, but... “So what could it be?!”
A few more long pages, a long stretch of rain so loud it was like a roar... and the sound of chewing and tearing cloth. Malta looked up, absentmindedly pondering one of the diseases.
"H-hey!" she said, rushing in to intervene between the capramel's powerful teeth and the packages wrappings, "No! N-no! Don't! Stop!" she scolded them, pushing at their nose... but the damage was done.
Malta put the package where the capramel couldn't reach it, flailing anxiously as she assessed the damage. "Nonono!" the wrapping had been chewed through, and something inside had been chewed up, "Oh nooo..." she whimpered, slipping it out to take a look.
It was a piece of delicate cloth, dyed a dark muddy crimson. As she unfolded it, Malta was stunned by the intricate lacework and fine-quality softness of it. It was also unnervingly lewd - a scandalous article, now missing a large chunk of it's clothwork.
Could someone really wear such a thing? Malta bshook her head in horror. It... it wouldn't fit me... she thought incredulously, face rosy red, It wouldn't fit me at all.... It was Yisettes. Could Yisette really wear it? Would she? Somehow, the thought made her uncomfortable.
The rest of the contents of the package were worse, save for a small seashell necklace. She hoped it was not intended to be worn in public. It... it can't be worn in private with that, uh, bite in it... she thought, blushing furiously as she inspected the bite. In a garnment as fragile as this, that one bit of damage made all of the difference.
She would get the blame. She was doomed. She hurriedly repacked it, retying the package to make it look as though it was undamaged. She hated lying, but in this situation, she knew she had to. It was the only way to survive.
Malta was surprised she wasn't dead after that fiasco in the barn. When Yisette had found out, Malta had been immediately blamed. Lying was not something she had ever been good at, and it took only a few smacks to the face for her to spill that no, those... articles of clothing... hadn't come with that chunk missing, and yes, she had re-wrapped it. Her body ached from the beating she had received in exchange, but she was alive and she wasn't being shoved into the wilderness to fend for herself. That, she determined, was very good.
She wondered if her survival had anything to do with her last second, panic-fuelled revelation – the capramel was pregnant. The lethargy, the appetite, the steady gain in weight – it all made sense. She wondered if the leniency of her punishment had to do with a pregnant capramel being highly valuable - probably not. But maybe so.
"I'm sorry." she said to the capramel as she limped by it's paddock. She didn't know why she was apologizing when the beast was the one that had caused her so much trouble, and when it was clearly not perturbed, but there it was. An apology.
She couldn't be upset at the beast. After all, a baby beast was on it's way. How long until there would be a little capramel, the first baby of its kind born on Yaeli soil? Even exhausted, the thought was exciting. It would probably be some time yet, but she would be - hopefully - alive to see it. It was more than she had expected from the affair.
She thanked the gods for the chance.
---
Living in the barn as Malta did, she could keep a watch on the capramel, even at night. Tame as it was, the capramel let her touch and stroke it, merely grunting in achknowledgement. The beast was growing bigger – noticeably bigger – the bulge in its stomach beginning to rival the hump on its back.
It was marvelous, and it cut the sting of the past few weeks nicely. Yisette had taken to teasing her with the chewed undergarments, delighting in the girl's awkwardness. She had even worn them around her, showing... all kinds of things... just to see Malta squirm.
“At least she isn't making me wear them!” Malta said awkwardly to the capramel, slipping the beast a piece of protein-rich feed. She'd made it herself on a whim, and she thought it might help the growing baby inside. Or babies... how many young did capramel have at once?
“When are you due...?” she asked the creature, trying to eyeball it as best she could. It was no use – she simply did not know enough. Likely, she'll be due at the least opportune time! Malta thought, giggling quietly. Yes. That seemed likely. .
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