Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ataya’s gaze jerked sharply to his sister at her whimper, tense and ready to act. Had the thing hurt her? But then, no, it seemed only to be sniffing her, and granted, he couldn’t precisely blame her for being uncomfortable; he had been unnerved by the thing just yesterday. Still was, to some extent, but his curiosity had won out over his anxiety or disgust. He felt a duty, though, to comfort her. Somehow.

“He’s not being mean, Kara — see? He just wants to smell you. Like the hastar do, sometimes. I think maybe he is part…something else. Like baowi. Or—er…”

He trailed off, frowning and distracted as the boy thing moved back in front of him and clawed at his shirt. Was it…trying to undress him? No, Ataya decided. Just pulling oddly, like it wanted him to move down to its crouched level. He wasn’t sure he wanted to sit, but on the other hand, the act wasn’t violent and he did want to communicate. Thus, in the interest of peace, he cooperated, stooping to a crouch before the thing and made an effort to explain himself, since it looked confused. Again.

He touched his hands to his own chest. “Me, Ataya.” He pointed to his sister. “That, Akara.” He reached out, tentatively touching his fingertips to the boy thing’s shoulders, not wanting to get too much of it on him. “You…? Dragoro?” He tapped again, eyes locked on the boy thing’s. “Dragoro.”

A grumble slipped out of him as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. Yes, he knew 'Ataya' and he may vaguely recall having 'Akara' mentioned to him as well. Unimportant things. The other words- Dys scowled. Why did pureblood boy feel the need to tap- Was it an insult? He said it again. Stared at Dys even as he said it. The hybrid tipped his head to the side, rumbling in discontent. Was it- It-

Was it a name?

What? Why? Calling him such a strange word. He snapped his head to the side in a harsh shake of his head. "No," Dysarrin informed Ataya tartly. "Nooo," he repeated, drawing out the word in case pureblood boy was hard of understanding. He prodded the other child's shoulder with a finger. "Ataya," he mimicked in the most civilized, enunciated way he could muster before jerking his hand back at himself. "Dysarrin. Not 'dragurro.' Get it?"

Kara’s brows pinched together as the thing — Dysarrin — spoke. It could talk. What did that make it? Some kind of hybrid, maybe? She chewed at her bottom lip as Ata stood and spoke to Dysarrin. Home? He wanted to go home? Relief flood through her at the thought of getting away from the creature. But then Ata kept talking, telling Dysarrin that he wanted to see him again, meet up with him in this same spot.

When Ata moved over to where she was standing, Kara frowned. “Ata…” She hesitated for a moment, knowing that he likely wouldn’t listen to her no matter what but she had to try. “We should tell mommy and daddy about this.” She eyed him closely. “And you shouldn’t come back here by yourself. He hasn’t hurt you yet but you don’t know him. You don’t know what he might do. What if there are others like him...only mean and nasty?”

Ataya’s gaze snapped to his sister at the words. “Tell?” He shook his head. “No, Kara, you can’t — Daddy’d never let me keep him! If there are others they’re a long ways away…” He frowned. “You don’t have to come back. I know you don’t like him…but I’m going to. I found him, so he’s mine, and anyway, this is my spot and if I never came back, then he’d steal it, so I’ve got to. If anything happens, I’ll—”

When Dysarrin approached again, poking the ground and speaking, Ataya glanced over to him.

“Here,” he agreed in spite of his sister’s look. “Next day. I promise.” When he looked back to Akara, his expression was half stubborn, half pleading. “I’m coming back…I showed him to you because I like him, but you can’t tell Daddy. Please. I’ll be careful,” he said as he started down the mountain with her, glance lingering back over his shoulder. “He won’t hurt me. You’ll see. I’ll train him to be good. And to talk more…you’ll see,” he repeated.

Akara needed more convincing. The two of them argued the full of the walk home, Ataya insisting that he needed his practice space, that Father would scold him otherwise, that he would lose all his books and never be permitted out of the house again if she told. He emphasized that he’d trusted her and she couldn’t just turn on him; Father would never understand. When it wound up with Kara in tears, however, insisting that if she didn’t tell and something happened to him, she could never forgive herself, Ataya’s brain went to work, skimming through possibilities.

Eventually, he brought a compromise before her: he’d read of a spell (somewhere, he couldn’t remember where) that involved casting twin spells on two pebbles — ‘warning stones.’ Once cast, a rune lie dormant on each, and if activated, the opposite stone — no matter how distant, theoretically — would heat up and glow, alerting the holder to trouble. Basic seeking spells could locate the pulse of magic from the stone-holder in distress.

At seven, he wasn’t perfectly confident in his ability to cast such a spell successfully, nor was he precisely sure where he’d even read of it, other than that it had been somewhere in Uncle Lithian’s library, but the promise placated his sister, regardless. Together, they found two smooth pebbles along the lakeside in front of their house, and Ataya spent a portion of the night playing with runic magic, attempting to at least get the stones to light up on command. The spell he eventually succeeded at wasn’t quite so dramatic as what he’d hoped or promised, but it looked convincing enough, and he was fairly certain it would work at least over short distances.

He promised himself to improve the spell later, exchanged stones with his sister, and fell asleep that night to thoughts of wild things and adventures amidst the mountains.