Snow
Solo
Words: 673
Solo
Words: 673
______________________________________________________
In Andile, snow was terrifying. As a child he had heard stories of the east… of how, in the uncultured and dark lands of Zena, water fell from the sky like rain, only to freeze on fallowed ground, empty from Aisha’s influence. Cursed. There, the ice earthlings lived in hovels built from dead trees instead of living ones, huddled around fires and spent all of their days killing trees so they could burn them, so desperate they were for some figment of warmth in their cold, empty hearts. Not that a fire was so strange in Andile, but somehow the prospect of felling a tree on purpose was utterly ridiculous. This was a story that was told with relish, and he was the punch line, for as soon as the horrors of such a pitiable place were recounted, all eyes would turn to him; those his age aghast, as if truly realizing just what his blue skin represented - his emptiness. He was untouched by Aisha - disconnected from her grace by his blood as well as his senses.
In Andile, the snow was proof of Aisha’s blessing. Then came the unnaturally cold winter, coinciding with war throughout the world - proof, it seemed, that the stories were true. Then came the extremists, claiming Aisha was calling for war, for blood.
In Zena… snow was peace. Snow gave life a meaning, even as surely as it brought death to those living under its influence. It was merciless and deadly, of that he had quickly learned… but it was as natural as breathing. It was the force that the people fought against, it was the drive for cooperation and trade, just as war and fighting had once been the driving force of unity for the Alkidike. When he first arrived in Zena, bundled in loaned furs, teeth chattering, he had cursed the cold and the land and wondered why, oh why, would anyone willingly settle and live here? Why would you go out and fell trees for wood; why would you subject yourself to this Aisha forsaken land?
And yet, over time… as Izuzue and Xansa accepted him into their home, he marvelled at the strange place they had built, with its logs packed together to keep out cold - not a living tree, but somehow just as comfortable, despite the weight of winter outside. He watched on in awe as the people around him cooperated with one another, trading one good for another, finding some sort of symbiosis with one another, and trading the excess with those outside their village. An old earthling kept a herd of roati, trading fur and meat and cheese - while a young woman ran a store where she traded vegetables and fruit. A fisherman visited weekly, paying for his goods with his catch.
Days slid into months, into years - but life had meaning, even if it was simply to succeed, to live. The snow brought the people together in away he had never felt before, even under Aisha’s boughs. Blasphemous though the thoughts were, somehow they rang true to him. If the snow one day melted away, would they still work together as closely? If the Alkidike had some sort of enemy, some unified threat to their survival that drove them to cooperate indefinitely, would they be as cooperative as the ice earthlings? Was this, after all this time, truly the reason the extremists had latched onto his kind - hybrids and outsiders- as a common threat?
Nimueh couldn’t help but sympathize, even if he despised the fact he was doing so. As just a child listening to Elsheba speak of them, Nimueh had thought the extremists to be bullies - those who longed for battle, wanting to sing old songs of Alkidike ancestors who were the terror of the earthling tribes. Now… having left Alkidike society behind him to live, despite Izuzue’s insistence, among earthling society, Nimueh thought maybe the extremists simply wanted that unifying force all this time. Maybe, after all his time, the Alkidike just wanted ‘snow’ for their people too.
In Andile, the snow was proof of Aisha’s blessing. Then came the unnaturally cold winter, coinciding with war throughout the world - proof, it seemed, that the stories were true. Then came the extremists, claiming Aisha was calling for war, for blood.
In Zena… snow was peace. Snow gave life a meaning, even as surely as it brought death to those living under its influence. It was merciless and deadly, of that he had quickly learned… but it was as natural as breathing. It was the force that the people fought against, it was the drive for cooperation and trade, just as war and fighting had once been the driving force of unity for the Alkidike. When he first arrived in Zena, bundled in loaned furs, teeth chattering, he had cursed the cold and the land and wondered why, oh why, would anyone willingly settle and live here? Why would you go out and fell trees for wood; why would you subject yourself to this Aisha forsaken land?
And yet, over time… as Izuzue and Xansa accepted him into their home, he marvelled at the strange place they had built, with its logs packed together to keep out cold - not a living tree, but somehow just as comfortable, despite the weight of winter outside. He watched on in awe as the people around him cooperated with one another, trading one good for another, finding some sort of symbiosis with one another, and trading the excess with those outside their village. An old earthling kept a herd of roati, trading fur and meat and cheese - while a young woman ran a store where she traded vegetables and fruit. A fisherman visited weekly, paying for his goods with his catch.
Days slid into months, into years - but life had meaning, even if it was simply to succeed, to live. The snow brought the people together in away he had never felt before, even under Aisha’s boughs. Blasphemous though the thoughts were, somehow they rang true to him. If the snow one day melted away, would they still work together as closely? If the Alkidike had some sort of enemy, some unified threat to their survival that drove them to cooperate indefinitely, would they be as cooperative as the ice earthlings? Was this, after all this time, truly the reason the extremists had latched onto his kind - hybrids and outsiders- as a common threat?
Nimueh couldn’t help but sympathize, even if he despised the fact he was doing so. As just a child listening to Elsheba speak of them, Nimueh had thought the extremists to be bullies - those who longed for battle, wanting to sing old songs of Alkidike ancestors who were the terror of the earthling tribes. Now… having left Alkidike society behind him to live, despite Izuzue’s insistence, among earthling society, Nimueh thought maybe the extremists simply wanted that unifying force all this time. Maybe, after all his time, the Alkidike just wanted ‘snow’ for their people too.
Class Affinity: Guard (Fortress)
Solo
Words: 2070
Solo
Words: 2070
______________________________________________________
Growing up in Zena, Nimueh made it a point to be incessantly helpful, sometimes to the point of annoyance to those around him - namely Buru. His new mothers, for their part, seemed infinitely patient with his clinging; allowing him to shadow their steps as they went about their days, allowing him to not only watch but to participate in their work. Still unacclimated to Zenan snowfall, the boy often ventured outdoors with Izuzue, nearly drowning in a cloak of furs, teeth chattering as she carried out a myriad of tasks, or oversaw the work of others. While he was still too young to hunt or gather resources himself, he watched with intrigue as his mother worked - as she showed him the many tasks that went into the running of a successful trading business. While the trading of furs was the main breadwinner here, there were dozens of tasks to attend to throughout a given day, and never a shortage of things to learn. What began as a clingy young boy hovering on the heels of his new family, quickly became an intent to learn anything and everything.
After days of watching her work, Izuzue finally looked down to him, offering him the hilt of a small bone-dagger. With his tiny hand closed around it, she settled behind him and, in a low and powerful voice, her hand guiding his own, taught him how to properly clean and tan animal hides. By Aisha, how he must have ruined so many pelts to the point of tatters, and yet she remained patient, allowing him the use of a tiny knife for practice. His tutoring didn’t end at the skinning of beasts, and the processing of pelts, however. As he followed her from task to task, he prodded at her and hovered until she gave in, judging there to be enough time in a busy day to teach him one skill or other. One week, while she deftly shucked the skin from a fresh kill, and processed the meat into edible portions, Nimueh sat to the side, listening as she explained her work, scraping leftover globs of fat or chunks of flesh that had been left behind from her finished pelts. The next week Izuzue showed him the proper way to care for a Roati, or the best way to process a felled tree into a polished plank for construction. When the young boy grew tired of physical labor, as children often do, he would instead stay indoors, following his adopted sister around until she grew tired of being underfoot, and dismissed him from her company.
A few months into his stay in Zena, Izuzue announced that she would be leaving for a month or so, taking a shipment to Sauti. “Can’t I come too?” Nimueh begged, clutching at her knees and peering up at her, but she simply smiled and gently knelt infront of him, kissing his forehead and nodding towards her wife, Xansa. “But if you come, you’ll miss your new lessons!”
“Lessons?” He echoed, eyes wide as he looked towards his second new mother. They hadn’t had much interaction, until now - both uncertain as to where they stood with the other. But here she stood, regal and beautiful and smiling as sweetly as could be, reaching to take his hand and lead him to one of the warm rooms of their home, which he knew to be her office. “I think it’s about time you learned your letters, isn’t that so?”
From then on, Nimueh began his schooling. Initially his mothers offered only the topics he seemed to take an interest in… but quickly, as time passed, they realized that he voraciously learned whatever they taught him without complaint. He wasn’t the best at reading, and the reading of accounts for the business made his eyes glaze over in boredom. But he still insisted on learning it nonetheless, and his mothers obliged. In what little spare time he allowed himself, Nimueh went off to play in nearby caves - gathering the glittering crystals, and dark shades of rock that intrigued him so, bringing them home to collect and arrange in little piles, stringing them together into crude, beaded necklaces.
Soon, as he grew from youngling to adolescent, he was deemed old enough to learn other skills - skills that, he came to realize, focused more on the type of trade his mothers did than they used to. Nimueh was allowed to go on shorter trips to other settlements, closer to Sauti. Wherever he went, Nimueh made notes about the nearby natural formations, the type of earth and crystals that appeared in certain places. Plucking stones and crystals, bones and discolored wood from wherever he found them, Nimueh finally asked to learn officially about the crafting of necklaces and bracelets, the refining of stones and polishing of wood and bone.
He was finally taught how to hunt and how to fish. Fishing with a net had been normal, back home in Jauhar, but here it was much more natural to fish with a spear, or even by hand, through a hole in the ice. While he wasn’t the best with a bow, he took to tracking with ease, and was adept at hunting with a spear. “You will make a skilled Blade, Nim!” Izuzue once said, elbowing him playfully after bringing down a kill. Then she puffed out a foggy breathe and pointed to the wound his spear had made, the killing blow, “But we will have to cut the pelt around the this mark - you need more finesse for this, like with your necklaces!” After all, what use is a pelt when it is marred by a deep slash in its side? Bows were better for this type of hunting. Nim tried not to betray his disappointment. His skill at bringing down a mark made little improvement over time - his approach too utilitarian, focusing on bringing down the beast through any means necessary - a bow was much better for it, or a dagger.
Soon, he was given more tasks related with the actual trading of furs and resources - but he didn’t have much affinity for it either. He did alright with numbers, but didn’t have the natural flair for it that his parents did, or Buru. Growing more and more distraught as time passed, Nimueh felt the growing feeling that he was a total fraud; that somehow his mothers had gotten the idea he was much more skilled than he truly was. On one trip, Izuzue entrusted him with an entire load of carefully carved wooden planks - and when it came time to sell it, he faltered. What was he supposed to trade this for, exactly? His mothers were trusting him to understand the price, given how freakishly cold this last winter had been - wood was in short supply, and it wasn’t until after he’d made the trade and returned to his mother that he realized he had undersold it, and badly.
“Aisha, I’m so sorry.” He gasped, seeing the brief, unreadable expression that crossed her features. Clutching at his necklaces, fingers trembling, Nimueh took a deep, shaking breath and shook his head, helplessly. “I just - don’t have the mind for it, mother, I’m sorry - I know you wanted--” He took a sharp breath than pressed his lips together, staring at her somewhat sheepishly as she gave him a hard look at his words. “I wanted what?” She pressed, but he shook his head, quickly. “Nimueh.”
Goddess, but she was intimidating. “I know you and mom wanted me to be a merchant, like you, but I just… I can’t--”
“You can, Nimueh - but you don’t have to.” Izuzue rushed to interrupt, setting her hands on his shoulders. “Is that what this has been? You think we wanted you to be a merchant, so you had to be?” Nimueh turned purple in the cheeks and ducked his head, but she tilted her body to follow his averted eyes. “You just… always had so many questions about everything, we both just thought…”
She trailed off, then shook her head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Your profession is your decision. I sort of thought you’d always be an artist anyway - what with all this.” She gestured to his necklaces, then smiled, patting him on the shoulder as she drew away. “You have all the time in the world to figure this all out.”
All the time in the world, and yet still he pondered on it now. That night, lying under the stars on their way home, Nimueh was deep in thought.
Despite being taught many a craft, Nimueh couldn’t fathom the freedom of choosing his own profession. His first mother… Elsheba had always made it very clear that he was expected to be a hunter - or, at least, to offer aid as much as he could to the household. Adopting him had cost her; disapproval from her own mother meant she was now responsible for putting food on the table for the both of them. She was the sole supporter; and so despite her desire for him to become a hunter, like herself, she begged off by saying she had little opportunity to actually teach him. Hunting was her escape from home… from him.
Moving to stand, Nimueh silently crept towards the cart of traded goods, reaching to draw out the weapons that had been traded - all newly crafted, and wrapped in soft leather, swords that were well oiled, mauls that were perfect for crushing, shining knives and beautifully curved, unstrung bows. A half-dozen spears, their points made form sharp, shining crystals, sat bundled together by leather cords. There were stranger things still - beads, runes carved from bones, and even a staff, although it looked old, like it had been traded around for years without an owner. Picking it up, he instantly huffed out a laugh at how ridiculous it was. He was no mage, and certainly wasn’t a healer - he had no magic. Putting it back, his hand hovered over the spears, before drawing into a loose fist.
Nimueh couldn’t recall enjoying a fight in his life; when he fought, it was more defensive, trying to either take down a beast he was hunting, or defending others while they gave the killing blow. A spear, to him, wasn’t a weapon, but a tool -a tool he used for hunting and fishing. The idea of wielding it in any other setting was just strange to him. He thought of his Alkidike sisters, back in Jauhar, and how they hefted their spears into battle, and instantly he pulled his hand away, shaking his head mutely at the very idea of it.
What about what Izuzue had suggested? His crafting? For barely a moment he considered it, before shaking his head once more. While he did enjoy crafting his necklaces… what his mother suggested was wrong. He didn’t want to sell them, this was simply an intimate joy of his, a passion, but not a profession.
What was it that really called to Nim? Nothing in particular, it was true - but it all centered around one thing. He wanted to take care of his family; and while it was true that Izuzue and Xansa, and even Buru, didn’t need taking care of, he still felt fulfilled just in accomplishing tasks with them… going about the daily business. He wanted to be someone his loved ones could rely on, be their rock during hard times. He never wanted to be what he had been, unwittingly, as a child - a mouth to feed, someone who had to be taken care of.
Perhaps that was no true profession… but as he dwelled on the thoughts, Nimueh felt such a huge sense of relief that he didn’t care. This feeling may not have a name, but that hardly mattered. The roiling anxiety from earlier in the day had disappeared, and as he looked once more over the cart, he felt drawn to one item in particular: a shield. Sure, he didn’t know how to use it, but it wasn’t the shield itself that drew him, as of yet - it was what it symbolized to him. One day, maybe, he would be the fortress that his family could take shelter in - but for now, he would simply do his best to protect them, in what small ways he could, and by working hard.
And for now, that would be enough.
After days of watching her work, Izuzue finally looked down to him, offering him the hilt of a small bone-dagger. With his tiny hand closed around it, she settled behind him and, in a low and powerful voice, her hand guiding his own, taught him how to properly clean and tan animal hides. By Aisha, how he must have ruined so many pelts to the point of tatters, and yet she remained patient, allowing him the use of a tiny knife for practice. His tutoring didn’t end at the skinning of beasts, and the processing of pelts, however. As he followed her from task to task, he prodded at her and hovered until she gave in, judging there to be enough time in a busy day to teach him one skill or other. One week, while she deftly shucked the skin from a fresh kill, and processed the meat into edible portions, Nimueh sat to the side, listening as she explained her work, scraping leftover globs of fat or chunks of flesh that had been left behind from her finished pelts. The next week Izuzue showed him the proper way to care for a Roati, or the best way to process a felled tree into a polished plank for construction. When the young boy grew tired of physical labor, as children often do, he would instead stay indoors, following his adopted sister around until she grew tired of being underfoot, and dismissed him from her company.
A few months into his stay in Zena, Izuzue announced that she would be leaving for a month or so, taking a shipment to Sauti. “Can’t I come too?” Nimueh begged, clutching at her knees and peering up at her, but she simply smiled and gently knelt infront of him, kissing his forehead and nodding towards her wife, Xansa. “But if you come, you’ll miss your new lessons!”
“Lessons?” He echoed, eyes wide as he looked towards his second new mother. They hadn’t had much interaction, until now - both uncertain as to where they stood with the other. But here she stood, regal and beautiful and smiling as sweetly as could be, reaching to take his hand and lead him to one of the warm rooms of their home, which he knew to be her office. “I think it’s about time you learned your letters, isn’t that so?”
From then on, Nimueh began his schooling. Initially his mothers offered only the topics he seemed to take an interest in… but quickly, as time passed, they realized that he voraciously learned whatever they taught him without complaint. He wasn’t the best at reading, and the reading of accounts for the business made his eyes glaze over in boredom. But he still insisted on learning it nonetheless, and his mothers obliged. In what little spare time he allowed himself, Nimueh went off to play in nearby caves - gathering the glittering crystals, and dark shades of rock that intrigued him so, bringing them home to collect and arrange in little piles, stringing them together into crude, beaded necklaces.
Soon, as he grew from youngling to adolescent, he was deemed old enough to learn other skills - skills that, he came to realize, focused more on the type of trade his mothers did than they used to. Nimueh was allowed to go on shorter trips to other settlements, closer to Sauti. Wherever he went, Nimueh made notes about the nearby natural formations, the type of earth and crystals that appeared in certain places. Plucking stones and crystals, bones and discolored wood from wherever he found them, Nimueh finally asked to learn officially about the crafting of necklaces and bracelets, the refining of stones and polishing of wood and bone.
He was finally taught how to hunt and how to fish. Fishing with a net had been normal, back home in Jauhar, but here it was much more natural to fish with a spear, or even by hand, through a hole in the ice. While he wasn’t the best with a bow, he took to tracking with ease, and was adept at hunting with a spear. “You will make a skilled Blade, Nim!” Izuzue once said, elbowing him playfully after bringing down a kill. Then she puffed out a foggy breathe and pointed to the wound his spear had made, the killing blow, “But we will have to cut the pelt around the this mark - you need more finesse for this, like with your necklaces!” After all, what use is a pelt when it is marred by a deep slash in its side? Bows were better for this type of hunting. Nim tried not to betray his disappointment. His skill at bringing down a mark made little improvement over time - his approach too utilitarian, focusing on bringing down the beast through any means necessary - a bow was much better for it, or a dagger.
Soon, he was given more tasks related with the actual trading of furs and resources - but he didn’t have much affinity for it either. He did alright with numbers, but didn’t have the natural flair for it that his parents did, or Buru. Growing more and more distraught as time passed, Nimueh felt the growing feeling that he was a total fraud; that somehow his mothers had gotten the idea he was much more skilled than he truly was. On one trip, Izuzue entrusted him with an entire load of carefully carved wooden planks - and when it came time to sell it, he faltered. What was he supposed to trade this for, exactly? His mothers were trusting him to understand the price, given how freakishly cold this last winter had been - wood was in short supply, and it wasn’t until after he’d made the trade and returned to his mother that he realized he had undersold it, and badly.
“Aisha, I’m so sorry.” He gasped, seeing the brief, unreadable expression that crossed her features. Clutching at his necklaces, fingers trembling, Nimueh took a deep, shaking breath and shook his head, helplessly. “I just - don’t have the mind for it, mother, I’m sorry - I know you wanted--” He took a sharp breath than pressed his lips together, staring at her somewhat sheepishly as she gave him a hard look at his words. “I wanted what?” She pressed, but he shook his head, quickly. “Nimueh.”
Goddess, but she was intimidating. “I know you and mom wanted me to be a merchant, like you, but I just… I can’t--”
“You can, Nimueh - but you don’t have to.” Izuzue rushed to interrupt, setting her hands on his shoulders. “Is that what this has been? You think we wanted you to be a merchant, so you had to be?” Nimueh turned purple in the cheeks and ducked his head, but she tilted her body to follow his averted eyes. “You just… always had so many questions about everything, we both just thought…”
She trailed off, then shook her head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Your profession is your decision. I sort of thought you’d always be an artist anyway - what with all this.” She gestured to his necklaces, then smiled, patting him on the shoulder as she drew away. “You have all the time in the world to figure this all out.”
All the time in the world, and yet still he pondered on it now. That night, lying under the stars on their way home, Nimueh was deep in thought.
Despite being taught many a craft, Nimueh couldn’t fathom the freedom of choosing his own profession. His first mother… Elsheba had always made it very clear that he was expected to be a hunter - or, at least, to offer aid as much as he could to the household. Adopting him had cost her; disapproval from her own mother meant she was now responsible for putting food on the table for the both of them. She was the sole supporter; and so despite her desire for him to become a hunter, like herself, she begged off by saying she had little opportunity to actually teach him. Hunting was her escape from home… from him.
Moving to stand, Nimueh silently crept towards the cart of traded goods, reaching to draw out the weapons that had been traded - all newly crafted, and wrapped in soft leather, swords that were well oiled, mauls that were perfect for crushing, shining knives and beautifully curved, unstrung bows. A half-dozen spears, their points made form sharp, shining crystals, sat bundled together by leather cords. There were stranger things still - beads, runes carved from bones, and even a staff, although it looked old, like it had been traded around for years without an owner. Picking it up, he instantly huffed out a laugh at how ridiculous it was. He was no mage, and certainly wasn’t a healer - he had no magic. Putting it back, his hand hovered over the spears, before drawing into a loose fist.
Nimueh couldn’t recall enjoying a fight in his life; when he fought, it was more defensive, trying to either take down a beast he was hunting, or defending others while they gave the killing blow. A spear, to him, wasn’t a weapon, but a tool -a tool he used for hunting and fishing. The idea of wielding it in any other setting was just strange to him. He thought of his Alkidike sisters, back in Jauhar, and how they hefted their spears into battle, and instantly he pulled his hand away, shaking his head mutely at the very idea of it.
What about what Izuzue had suggested? His crafting? For barely a moment he considered it, before shaking his head once more. While he did enjoy crafting his necklaces… what his mother suggested was wrong. He didn’t want to sell them, this was simply an intimate joy of his, a passion, but not a profession.
What was it that really called to Nim? Nothing in particular, it was true - but it all centered around one thing. He wanted to take care of his family; and while it was true that Izuzue and Xansa, and even Buru, didn’t need taking care of, he still felt fulfilled just in accomplishing tasks with them… going about the daily business. He wanted to be someone his loved ones could rely on, be their rock during hard times. He never wanted to be what he had been, unwittingly, as a child - a mouth to feed, someone who had to be taken care of.
Perhaps that was no true profession… but as he dwelled on the thoughts, Nimueh felt such a huge sense of relief that he didn’t care. This feeling may not have a name, but that hardly mattered. The roiling anxiety from earlier in the day had disappeared, and as he looked once more over the cart, he felt drawn to one item in particular: a shield. Sure, he didn’t know how to use it, but it wasn’t the shield itself that drew him, as of yet - it was what it symbolized to him. One day, maybe, he would be the fortress that his family could take shelter in - but for now, he would simply do his best to protect them, in what small ways he could, and by working hard.
And for now, that would be enough.
Monsters?
Event Solo - 1 VP
Words:
Event Solo - 1 VP
Words:
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After almost two weeks in the Sauti wilderness, Nimueh was ridiculously pleased to see some sign of civilization again; even if that sign of civilization was a small group of pitched tents next to a lake. Spotting it just as the sun was setting, the young hybrid had turned excitedly to his traveling companion, Callum, all but dragging to the group of tents, and gaggle of wary Sauti travelers. With blankets drawn around his shoulders, and a baked clay bowl of soup warming his hands, Nimueh felt contentedly sleepy as he sat, hunched, around the fire, Callum sitting next to him - all felt right in the world at this moment. Once Callum had finished his bowl, Nimueh silently passed over his own, nudging at him until the older hybrid finally consented, then sat back so he could watch the other wind earthlings. A few of the older women continued to bustle about, refilling bowls until everyone seemed happy and contented - and only then did they, too, settle by the fire, sagging in exhaustion after a long day.
For a time, the groups talked among themselves, and Nimueh felt himself dozing off, soothed by the soft buzz of conversation around him, leaning so he was half slumped against Callum’s shoulder, his chin settled against his own chest, dreads hanging into his eyes - until the gentle, comfortable conversation was no more. Instead, as the adults finished their meals and the younger members of the group were shooed to bed, conversation grew quiet - and a sense of unease descended on the camp. The change in atmosphere was enough to stir him from his rest, blinking blearily as they spoke. Some looked at him almost expectantly, leaning forward where they sat. “What do your people think of the these rumors from the Yaeli?” One man asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Nimueh blinked, wondering what this man meant by ‘his people’ - and even more confused by these new rumors. “I know the Yaeli are those … skittish islanders. The ones with ink black crystals - what are they saying?” He quietly pried, furrowing his brows and looking at Callum, confused. His lack of knowledge was a disappointment - but as they explained, Nimueh could see why. They thought, with his Alkidike blood, he had come traveling from the west - but having been in Zena for the past decade or so, he was less than experienced in current events back ‘home’.
“Ah, a shame. We heard there were monsters on the island - even worse than those damned extremists.” The man spat on the ground, but the mere mention of them froze Nimueh where he sat. Stiffening, Nimueh hoped Callum hadn’t noticed - and shrinked back somewhat, eyes ducking down to his lap, where his hands clenched against the furred fabric of his trousers. “Some dark, oiled monsters- tearing up from the ground like foul spirits, stealing into the night and carrying off the Yaeli. Strange as those islanders are, they seem pretty harmless - it’s a shame.” The man shook his head. “IF there really are monsters on the island, I wish they’d carry off those extremists - make a good meal of ‘em.”
“Excuse me.” Nimueh murmured, shooting to stand, stumbling as he fled the warmth of the fire. Once at the outskirts of the camp, he pinched his eyes closed, trying to push the traitorous thoughts from his mind. The extremists deserved what they got - they deserved banishment. ...Right? His memories of that whole event were… foggy. They wanted to expand the Alkidike territory, but also despised hybrids. They felt that the Alkidike had a claim to the land, because of Aisha. All for Aisha. It was because of the extremists that he was sent away from home - he should hate them. But after all this time, he realized that their actions had turned his fate in a better direction - it had brought him to his new mothers - let him meet Callum, both times. Maybe, despite all the suffering that had occurred, the extremists WERE doing as Aisha instructed? This was the same goddess who demanded her daughters conquer the land in her name - the same goddess who had killed his birth parents for the sheer gall of wanting him to live. He tried not to think about it, but now… imagining those monsters there, hunting on people- maybe even his Alkidike sisters... Was Lumi okay?
How scared was she, on that island with no home to return to, haunted by these monsters, all because she thought she was doing what Aisha wanted? Bringing glory to her sisters? What about his other aunts, back home - would the monsters spread ? Would they leave their island home, as the Yaeli were, hunting for blood across the coast? For the first time in along time, he thought of Elsheba - and yet here he was, on a treasure hunt across the Sauti countryside. He felt shame deep inside him at the thought. But… were there really monsters? Maybe… maybe the Yaeli were simply being superstitious, as they were rumored to be. Some strange creature in the shadows, and they were sent screaming across the sea to Jauhar shores?
No… no, if they feared the mainland as he had heard, then something must really be happening. Letting out a deep breath, Nimueh gazed back towards the camp, stomach churning. … He had no proof that anything was really going on - and even if he went back to Jauhar, he wouldn’t help anything. He didn’t even know how hybrids were being treated there, now. … It would be better to continue his travels, and listen for more news of these mysterious creatures. Now calmed, and his course decided, Nimueh turned and approached the camp, even as his mind remained stuck in a cloud of uncertainty.
For a time, the groups talked among themselves, and Nimueh felt himself dozing off, soothed by the soft buzz of conversation around him, leaning so he was half slumped against Callum’s shoulder, his chin settled against his own chest, dreads hanging into his eyes - until the gentle, comfortable conversation was no more. Instead, as the adults finished their meals and the younger members of the group were shooed to bed, conversation grew quiet - and a sense of unease descended on the camp. The change in atmosphere was enough to stir him from his rest, blinking blearily as they spoke. Some looked at him almost expectantly, leaning forward where they sat. “What do your people think of the these rumors from the Yaeli?” One man asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Nimueh blinked, wondering what this man meant by ‘his people’ - and even more confused by these new rumors. “I know the Yaeli are those … skittish islanders. The ones with ink black crystals - what are they saying?” He quietly pried, furrowing his brows and looking at Callum, confused. His lack of knowledge was a disappointment - but as they explained, Nimueh could see why. They thought, with his Alkidike blood, he had come traveling from the west - but having been in Zena for the past decade or so, he was less than experienced in current events back ‘home’.
“Ah, a shame. We heard there were monsters on the island - even worse than those damned extremists.” The man spat on the ground, but the mere mention of them froze Nimueh where he sat. Stiffening, Nimueh hoped Callum hadn’t noticed - and shrinked back somewhat, eyes ducking down to his lap, where his hands clenched against the furred fabric of his trousers. “Some dark, oiled monsters- tearing up from the ground like foul spirits, stealing into the night and carrying off the Yaeli. Strange as those islanders are, they seem pretty harmless - it’s a shame.” The man shook his head. “IF there really are monsters on the island, I wish they’d carry off those extremists - make a good meal of ‘em.”
“Excuse me.” Nimueh murmured, shooting to stand, stumbling as he fled the warmth of the fire. Once at the outskirts of the camp, he pinched his eyes closed, trying to push the traitorous thoughts from his mind. The extremists deserved what they got - they deserved banishment. ...Right? His memories of that whole event were… foggy. They wanted to expand the Alkidike territory, but also despised hybrids. They felt that the Alkidike had a claim to the land, because of Aisha. All for Aisha. It was because of the extremists that he was sent away from home - he should hate them. But after all this time, he realized that their actions had turned his fate in a better direction - it had brought him to his new mothers - let him meet Callum, both times. Maybe, despite all the suffering that had occurred, the extremists WERE doing as Aisha instructed? This was the same goddess who demanded her daughters conquer the land in her name - the same goddess who had killed his birth parents for the sheer gall of wanting him to live. He tried not to think about it, but now… imagining those monsters there, hunting on people- maybe even his Alkidike sisters... Was Lumi okay?
How scared was she, on that island with no home to return to, haunted by these monsters, all because she thought she was doing what Aisha wanted? Bringing glory to her sisters? What about his other aunts, back home - would the monsters spread ? Would they leave their island home, as the Yaeli were, hunting for blood across the coast? For the first time in along time, he thought of Elsheba - and yet here he was, on a treasure hunt across the Sauti countryside. He felt shame deep inside him at the thought. But… were there really monsters? Maybe… maybe the Yaeli were simply being superstitious, as they were rumored to be. Some strange creature in the shadows, and they were sent screaming across the sea to Jauhar shores?
No… no, if they feared the mainland as he had heard, then something must really be happening. Letting out a deep breath, Nimueh gazed back towards the camp, stomach churning. … He had no proof that anything was really going on - and even if he went back to Jauhar, he wouldn’t help anything. He didn’t even know how hybrids were being treated there, now. … It would be better to continue his travels, and listen for more news of these mysterious creatures. Now calmed, and his course decided, Nimueh turned and approached the camp, even as his mind remained stuck in a cloud of uncertainty.
Choices
Solo
Words: 856
Solo
Words: 856
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Even though Nimueh was being raised by an Alkidike, the fact of the matter was that he was as far removed from the Chibale Isle as he could ever be. For the first time in his life, he was free... really free of the overwhelming societal expectations of his mother's people. It was difficult to be fond of a place that had made him feel so wholly disappointing, so disconnected from what he was supposed to be that it felt simply foolish to try and fit in. Nimueh's first sin was to be born at all, mixed and imperfect - his coloring so far removed from the norm that even at first glance, he couldn't pass as Alkidike. Here, in Zena, if he closed his eyes and sat in the midst of the settlement, he could pass as an extremely large Zenan - and it was only the strange look of his eyes, and the markings on his skin that colored him as different. Where could he find such acceptance among his sisters?
Nimueh's second sin was to be born male - and while he hadn't realized the particular details of his unfortunate state as a toddler, he had still known he was different. Once in Zena, growing through adolescence, it became clear to him just how different he really was, and even here among loved ones Nimueh felt the touch of his people's disdain for his kind. Izuzue loved him and was kind and caring, but even she had her own feelings about the subject, feelings that were shaped by her growing up Alkidike. Males were unnecessary for her people, a being that had no functional reason to exist in Alkidike society. His sex was an aberration, one that marked him as different. If he had grown up among his sisters, if he had grown ... would anyone have given him a look, would anyone have considered him a worthy partner? Halfbreed, and male, his genetics were undesirable - and 'blind' because he had no antennae to speak of. Someone may have pitied him and allowed him to live among them, but would any Alkidike have really reached for him as a mate? Would he have trusted them, even if they had?
Nimueh’s third sin was, perhaps, growing into a fluid sexuality.In Zena, life wasn't as simple as it was in Chibale; you could settle down with someone of the same sex, or a different one. As a pre-teen, sometimes working with his sister at the tavern she worked at, he saw plenty of interactions - not just women with women. Men and women, too - how strange! But in earthling society, it had its own strange sense - their bodies allowed them to create life, in exchange for the discomfort of 'pregnancy', and the risk of death upon 'childbirth'. How terrifying! Even if Nimueh found the sight of women alluring and welcome, he couldn't help but cringe back from the idea of bringing forth a family in such a way. His own genetics were wasteful, and he felt horrified at the idea of being partly responsible for such a terrifying condition as pregnancy... Although, with the realization that his people lacked the ability to experience pregnancy, he came to wonder if he even had the same function that allowed earthling men to father children. For all he knew, he was sterile, and that was actually a reassurance. Over time, at the tavern, he realized a third type of pair existed - two men together, romantically. It had no functional purpose as far as reproduction went, as without Aisha to aid them, two men would never be able to bring life on their own.
Assuming that he truly was sterile, Nimueh seeking the company of women or men alike had little functional difference. But, even with his own feelings on the subject sorted, there were a few... issues. A potential partner had to have similar expectations, man or woman alike. Second, there were few Zenan men that he found as alluring as women. Maybe it was a part of him that found effeminate qualities attractive because he had been raised among Alkidike, but perhaps it was his preference altogether. Third, if he found a man to share his life with, what would his family say? Izuzue was an Alkidike in all senses of the word, and his sister Buru had been raised with similar sensibilities and beliefs. Perhaps Xansa would understand, since she had opted to marry a woman herself ?
But all of this was simple theorizing - wondering about the qualities of a person who didn't exist was a waste of time. Maybe, someday, there'd be a reason to dwell on such topic, but not now. While it was true that Nimueh longed for Callum's companionship, he had already been rejected once, and so it was better not to focus on such fantasies. Maybe, some day, he could find someone to call a spouse, but he was still too young to latch onto the idea - he had his whole life ahead of him. The point was, that here in Zena, away from the expectations of back home, he at least had a choice.
Nimueh's second sin was to be born male - and while he hadn't realized the particular details of his unfortunate state as a toddler, he had still known he was different. Once in Zena, growing through adolescence, it became clear to him just how different he really was, and even here among loved ones Nimueh felt the touch of his people's disdain for his kind. Izuzue loved him and was kind and caring, but even she had her own feelings about the subject, feelings that were shaped by her growing up Alkidike. Males were unnecessary for her people, a being that had no functional reason to exist in Alkidike society. His sex was an aberration, one that marked him as different. If he had grown up among his sisters, if he had grown ... would anyone have given him a look, would anyone have considered him a worthy partner? Halfbreed, and male, his genetics were undesirable - and 'blind' because he had no antennae to speak of. Someone may have pitied him and allowed him to live among them, but would any Alkidike have really reached for him as a mate? Would he have trusted them, even if they had?
Nimueh’s third sin was, perhaps, growing into a fluid sexuality.In Zena, life wasn't as simple as it was in Chibale; you could settle down with someone of the same sex, or a different one. As a pre-teen, sometimes working with his sister at the tavern she worked at, he saw plenty of interactions - not just women with women. Men and women, too - how strange! But in earthling society, it had its own strange sense - their bodies allowed them to create life, in exchange for the discomfort of 'pregnancy', and the risk of death upon 'childbirth'. How terrifying! Even if Nimueh found the sight of women alluring and welcome, he couldn't help but cringe back from the idea of bringing forth a family in such a way. His own genetics were wasteful, and he felt horrified at the idea of being partly responsible for such a terrifying condition as pregnancy... Although, with the realization that his people lacked the ability to experience pregnancy, he came to wonder if he even had the same function that allowed earthling men to father children. For all he knew, he was sterile, and that was actually a reassurance. Over time, at the tavern, he realized a third type of pair existed - two men together, romantically. It had no functional purpose as far as reproduction went, as without Aisha to aid them, two men would never be able to bring life on their own.
Assuming that he truly was sterile, Nimueh seeking the company of women or men alike had little functional difference. But, even with his own feelings on the subject sorted, there were a few... issues. A potential partner had to have similar expectations, man or woman alike. Second, there were few Zenan men that he found as alluring as women. Maybe it was a part of him that found effeminate qualities attractive because he had been raised among Alkidike, but perhaps it was his preference altogether. Third, if he found a man to share his life with, what would his family say? Izuzue was an Alkidike in all senses of the word, and his sister Buru had been raised with similar sensibilities and beliefs. Perhaps Xansa would understand, since she had opted to marry a woman herself ?
But all of this was simple theorizing - wondering about the qualities of a person who didn't exist was a waste of time. Maybe, someday, there'd be a reason to dwell on such topic, but not now. While it was true that Nimueh longed for Callum's companionship, he had already been rejected once, and so it was better not to focus on such fantasies. Maybe, some day, he could find someone to call a spouse, but he was still too young to latch onto the idea - he had his whole life ahead of him. The point was, that here in Zena, away from the expectations of back home, he at least had a choice.
