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 Posted: Thu Aug 26, 2010 3:21 pm
----
Please, Mr. Postman
----
with
Aysel Vartanian (Celestriakle) and Coyotl (Hedjrebl)
on
a somewhat bleak and rainy day, at around noon
in
Shyregoed.
--------------------- It was noon, and seemingly all of Shyregoed's skies were blanketed with the same uniform layer of grey. It had rained recently, and perhaps it would rain again soon, but for now, the clouds lay still overhead, and so the people of one town had gotten back to their daily routine, albeit with a bit more squelching of mud underfoot. At least, as one man had mused to his wife, it wasn't very cold. The temperature had remained fairly moderate all day, all things considered, and save for the occasional breath of wind bringing a slight n** to the air, it showed no signs of dropping lower.
For a native Shyregoedian, then, it was comfortable; for a letter-carrier from Imisus, it may as well have been a frozen tundra. Coyotl shivered. Where is that house?!
As soon as he had crossed the border from Imisus, he could have sworn the air around him had grown instantly colder. Of course it was only his imagination, but imagination or not, it didn't stop him from feeling as though he was slowly turning into a man-shaped block of ice. At least at that time, he'd managed to get a ride on the back of a mail caravan-- or at least, something that called itself a caravan. What it was was something more like a single glorified vegetable-cart carrying a jumble of letters and packages, covered with a moth-eaten canvas and pulled by two perpetually aggravated horses. Coyotl had suspected that they felt just about as put-upon as he did. But a moth-eaten canvas was better than nothing, and anything was better than being stranded in Shyregoed, alone, with no idea of where he was, holding a letter adressed to a family that seemed to have done a fine job of convincing the entire region that it did not exist.
This letter must be delivered personally to the Vartanian home, by request of the sender, he had been told, after the postmaster general in Imisus had handed him the envelope, which was of a thick, heavy paper, stuffed fat with what Coyotl assumed were various letters and secured with twine. You can catch a ride on the caravan into the nearest town to the address, but from there, you're to carry it on foot.
Those were his instructions, and he'd done his best to follow them. After reaching town, he'd wormed his way out of the cart, immediately tugging his shabby scarf up over his head and swearing under his breath. Not only was it cold, but it was raining, too. Perfect. Ignoring the curious looks and smirks from passerby at the multiple layers of clothing he wore- to them, this must have seemed like overkill, but for Coyotl it was a necessity- he'd ducked into the nearest market stall, presenting an envelope from his coat pocket and asking if anyone knew where to find the address that was written on it. No one did. Several more attempts yielded the same result, but finally, someone seemed to recognize the family name, and gave him a vague set of directions that would take him several miles out of town, at least.
Now, tromping through the mud and gazing hopelessly around for any sign of life, Coyotl wished he had sought out a second opinion on those directions. What sort of recluse would live this far away from town? Perhaps he ought to turn back; there was no way he could be headed in the right direction. It had been ages since he'd seen so much as another traveler on the road. But just as he had made up his mind to head back towards town before he became truly lost, he caught sight of a light streak across the gloomy sky; a finger of smoke beginning to rise through the trees, most likely from a chimney, and probably less than a mile away. Even if that wasn't the home of the Vartanians, perhaps they'd be able to point him in the right direction-- or tell him whether he was the butt of an insanely far-reaching practical joke. With a heavy sigh, Coyotl shivered once more and trudged onward.
At least it had stopped raining.
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 3:14 am
Even before he could see so much as an inch of the property, the noisy shrieks and screams of small children reached him. The closer he got, the more sounds arrived: the twang of a bow, the thud of an arrow hitting its target. The boisterous laughter of men in a good mood and the squelch of feet in the mud. At last, the single-story log cabin came into view. It stood as a proud piece of local carpentry; stumps still decorated the nearby land to prove it. Alas, the cabin wasn't flawless: Amateur shutters had been stuck awkwardly over windows that weren't exactly perfect rectangles. The door, on the other hand, had fared much better: It swung smoothly, and from that open doorway came the scents of smoke and stew. The scenery around the house differed little from the scenery he had been passing for the extent of his trek; there were no markers to determine the boundaries of the family's land. A small garden was being attempted on the other side of the house and it seemed to be fairing alright... if barely. A chicken coop could be hear clucking away somewhere out of sight.
Outside, two small girls, four and five respectively, were giggling insatiably as they peeked out from behind the tree they hid behind. Suddenly, from the forest, burst forth a boy or seven, roaring as he chased the girls. They shrieked in delight and ran, but the trio stopped dead when they noticed the postman. Wide-eyed, the two girls just stared, but the boy was a bit more defensive; perhaps he was irritated his game had been ruined. "Who are you?" he demanded to know. Maybe he just wanted to be the man of the house. To the fortune of the rest of the residents, the men of the house were in clear view: Several yards behind the children were two men, one in his early thirties the other in his late twenties. Each held a bow, one with an arrow notched in. A ways away from them, a few arrows were burrowed into two trees, all within close range of each other. They had been smiling and chatting before, but upon the silence of the children, their attention had been directed away and bows lowered. They were not near as threatened as the boy, merely curious. Since he had done the talking, they said nothing.
Everyone present appeared to be related at some point or another, with the exception of the younger man. They all shared the same dark hair. In the older man and the youngest girl it appeared more of a jet black, but in the boy and other girl, it seemed a little more like a brown. All their eyes displayed a slightly different shade of brown. Each of their skins held deepened color, despite their frigid surroundings. The Uquese glimmered in all of their features, but variations crossed the board when it came to build, hair style and type, and everything else not covered. The older girl had freckles, and the circles under the boy's eyes were a permanent feature, existent regardless of his sleeping habits. The younger girl had skin lighter than all of the rest, whereas the older man's was darker than the others. To all of this, the younger man was the only exception. His skin was white, native Panymese. His tousled hair was shaded a pleasant, medium brown, and he watched curiously with his bright green eyes. His build was a bit slim as compared to his bulkier partner. The children were all barefoot and dressed in styles that appeared to be some sort of mock up of the noble's fashions from some amount of years ago. The men wore gear more appropriate to their roles as hunters: leather pants, boots, cotton shirts, gloves, a vest, and a quiver full of arrows.
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 9:56 pm
Following the smoke, Coyotl's pace quickened as he began to hear the sounds of children playing ahead, and various other noises that indicated he was nearing a home of some sort. When he came within view of the cabin, though, he slowed his steps to a more moderate pace, feeling that it would be awkward to approach the clearing at a rush, and to give himself a few moments to assess his surroundings. Cleared tree stumps, the smells of food cooking, and what sounded like domestic fowl not too far away-- it was all very rustic, very charming. He supposed that he could see the appeal of living in such a place. (But the cold...!)
As his eyes flicked over the yard and its occupants, his expression turned to one of surprise. Whatever he'd been expecting of the Vartanian home, this wasn't it. The children, a boy and two little girls playing near the doorway, were one thing; not exactly what he'd pictured of a secluded place in the middle of the Shyregoedian forests, but not patently bizarre either. What surprised him were their features. There was one young man among the five people in the front yard who clearly had native Panymian ancestry, but the children and other man- unless Coyotl was very much mistaken- were Uquese. That was unexpected. And in Shyregoed, no less... The strangeness of it gave him pause. It had been quite a long time since he'd met anyone with ties to the Southwestern continent. He'd always assumed that most Uquese immigrants made their homes in Mishkan, since that was where the majority of them had first arrived before the effective quarantine of Panymium. He had only ever met one or two in Imisus, his current home. Shyregoed seemed like the least likely place he could think of to meet someone from Uque. But then again, he thought, the children were certainly too young to be first-generation Uquese; by birth, then, they were Panymese. This family must have made its home on this continent long before he had-- probably before he was born. Certainly, it had had time to spread.
Coyotl's fingers fidgeted in his coat pockets. Thinking of home always made him feel anxious, uncomfortable. Guilty, even. But he couldn't allow that to distract him: he had a job to do.
"Who are you?"
The boy was speaking to him. Coyotl raised both eyebrows and glanced tentatively at the two men some yards away; they knew he was there, so he returned his gaze to the boy in front of him, who had a bit of a truculent look on his face-- probably resentful of a stranger disrupting his play. May as well humor him. He cleared his throat slightly before addressing the child, making sure to speak loudly enough so that the adults could hear him as well.
"Is this the, uh..." Coyotl paused to make a show of pulling the letter out of the inside of his jacket, as if to make it clear that he wasn't simply a damp, disoriented vagrant staggering out of the woods. "... Vartanian household?" He had to guess a bit at the pronunciation of the surname. "I have a delivery. A letter," he added, somewhat stupidly.
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 11:17 pm
All other emotions the boy had felt dropped away in the wake of wonder and the girls had followed suite. They looked at him with wide eyes; he may as well have been Santy Claws. "A..." the boy began, but the older girl finished, "...mailman?" As the realization sunk in, all three screeched and shouted in joy and ran to him. To these children, the mailman was the Santy Claws that came several times a year. Each girl latched onto one of his legs, and the boy jumped up in front of him, making grabs for the letter. The younger girl cried, "I bet it's from my mommy; it has to be!"
"No way! It's definitely Granpa Mana..ssesses!" countered the other girl, stumbling over the name and waving her hand towards the letter, despite having zero chance of reaching it.
Both men laughed at the scene as they approached, but it was the older man who spoke for the group. "Please excuse the children; they seemed to have forgotten their manners!" He gave the boy a light thwap on the head before taking the letter as the other man attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to remove the girls. "But yes, we are the Vartanians..." He glanced down at the letters and addresses in his hand, then shouted towards the house, "Sevda, Mala, Zhen! The postman has come!" There was only one name he didn't call: Aysel. He thought of her with a bit of sadness; she was never interested in the letters when they came. In her words, they were 'too depressing'. She didn't want to know who else she had lost. Yet so often good things were mixed in with the bad... He worried feverently about that girl; she had changed so much, especially since her mother had caught the disease. It appeared to him that she had lost the resilience that had so defined her as a child. But he quickly shook off such negative thinking; with a welcoming smile, he put an arm around the postman and guided him towards the door, inviting the him in, "Please, come in, rest a while! You must have had a hard journey!"
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Posted: Tue Aug 31, 2010 10:47 pm
When the children exploded into a flurry of noise and motion, Coyotl was afraid he'd said something wrong- what it was, he couldn't imagine- but he soon realized that they were rushing at him in excitement, rather than running away. In fact, he barely had the chance to brace himself before the two girls crashed into his legs; he stayed standing, but was effectively rooted to the spot as the boy attempted to relieve him of the mail he carried. "Wh-- augh!" Amid the confusion, he instinctively raised the letter above his head, staring wide-eyed at the children in a mixture of alarm and amusement as they yammered in excitement and continued to make futile grabs for the letter. What was all the fuss about?!
Thankfully, the two men standing in the yard soon came, laughing, to pry the children away and receive the letter. Coyotl was vaguely aware that one of them was making an apology for the little ones' behavior, though he was a bit preoccupied with trying to jiggle his leg loose from the littlest girl's grip. "Not to worry," he replied distractedly, giving a bemused half-smile as he gave his leg one last little shake, then decided it wasn't worth the trouble. "This isn't the worst welcome I've ever gotten." That was certainly true. Seldom did he find that anyone was particularly glad to see him when he made his rounds for the post; it was a sign of the times, he guessed. News of death, debts, and other grim tidings were the most common topics of the letters he delivered nowadays. To be greeted with something other than a scowl or a heavy sigh- or worse yet, tears- was a welcome change.
When he found himself being ushered inside, on top of this already warm reception from the children, Coyotl nearly went weak-kneed with relief. "Oh, that'd be much appreciated, sir," he blurted, sincere gratitude making his speech rather uncharacteristically polite. "I'll be out of your way soon, but I wouldn't mind the chance to dry off a bit, just to warm my bones. I-it's the rain 'n' wet, I think, making it so cold," he added hurriedly, finding himself embarrassed for the first time by his own lack of resistance to the weather. With a too-large overcoat and two layers of pants, he must have looked a real sight.
He remembered a bit belatedly that he still had a lumpy woolen scarf pulled up over his head; in the interest of looking at least halfway presentable, he pushed it back with one hand and ran his fingers through his hair once or twice in an effort to smooth it down a bit. Still a bit musty overall, but it would have to do. Coyotl followed where he was led, mindful not to tread on any little toes.
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Posted: Wed Sep 01, 2010 12:35 am
Once they had begun moving, the girls let go and the three children followed a step behind the men, at least until they reached the doorway, where they ran and cut in front, escaping into the house. Inside, three more members of the family were revealed to the postman: a boy, a girl, and a woman, all with a touch of Uquese as well.
The boy sat on the pelt of a bear in front of an enormous hearth big enough to light the giant room and warm every member of the family. It could be troublesome to keep going, but luckily there was no shortage of wood around to burn. The boy himself, a thirteen-year old, was unique amongst the strangeness around him. Not only was he partially Uquese, but Yiruian blood flowed powerfully in his veins. Thin, straight, ink black hair framed eyes so dark that the pupil was near impossible to find. His skin tone was more Uquese, but his sharp facial features leaned a little more towards the Yiruian side. He watched the fire with a look somewhere between boredom and just enough entertainment to keep him there when Coyotl entered. His gaze snapped up and he broke out into a smile, moving aside slightly to make room for the people he knew were coming.
Both woman and girl were attending to tonight's dinner in the section that served as the kitchen. In essence, it was simply a line of counters and cabinets built into the wall, ending in a smaller fireplace for cooking. Within it, the stew he had smelled earlier bubbled. On the other end of the line waited the dining table with its benches of halved tree. When the children prefaced the men to come, the woman went to get a bowl from a cabinet, but the girl was there to see him. A ten year old, she looked like she would very soon be a pretty little thing, if it weren't for the one incredibly rare aspect of her: She was heterochromatic. Her black hair, which reached her lower back, had been carefully plaited as to not taint the food, but even then could still be seen for its beauty. She maintained a petite figure, and her features were gentle. But her eyes were hardened and sharp. One icy blue, the other permafrost brown, they demanded order and discipline, but for the mailman, they softened. Smiling, she went to join the boy on the pelt. Both boy and girl were dressed in similar styles as the small children.
As they entered, the man nodded empathetically. As he spoke, the three little ones dove into the growing crowd upon the fur in front of the fire. So did the men, but much more calmly. The littlest girl wormed her way into his lap, and the boy from outside did the same to the other man "It takes some getting used to. You see, we used to live in the marshes of Imisus, our entire clan, but when the plague came, many of us were killed... We figured that we would have a better chance of survival if we scattered all across the continent. And someone had to go to Shyregoed."
At that moment, the woman approached Coyotl, offering him a bowl of the stew and a spoon. "Please, eat. It's venison stew," she said graciously before joining the rest of her family. Her black hair was tied tight in a bun, and like the rest of her family, her eyes were brown. The fact that she worked too long and too hard showed in every stringy feature, but it was also perfectly clear that despite all of her duties and worries, she had found herself a niche of real happiness. Like the men, her clothes fit her work: a simple and durable dress with an apron to go over it.
"Let us introduce ourselves. I am Yosif," said the man who had been doing all the speaking. He put a hand on the girl in his lap. "This is Pomona." Gesturing towards the other man, "He is Lucius." Towards the boy in Lucius's lap, "That's Matteo." The woman who had given him the food, "Sevda, my sister." The Yiruian crossbreed, "Zhen." The other small girl, "Regina." The heterochromatic girl, "Mala." He finished with, "My other sister, Semiha, and her daughter also reside here, but they are... not present." He chose his words carefully. "Tell us, what is your name?"
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Posted: Thu Sep 02, 2010 5:18 pm
The warmth of the house hit Coyotl immediately as he entered, and his shoulders sagged a bit as it did. The hardest thing would be convincing himself to go back outside when the time came; for now, he would enjoy the heat. There were even more children in the house, he noticed, as well as a woman tending to a bubbling pot over the kitchen hearth. "'Evening, ma'am," he greeted her, inclining his head slightly. He wasn't sure if it was actually evening yet, or just afternoon, but the weather being what it was, it had felt like evening all day. He repeated the gesture for each of the children-- noticing, as he did, that the girl had odd-colored eyes. Strange, he thought idly, but nothing more; he had seen much queerer things in his time.
Listening to the man explaining how the Vartanians had come to live in such a place, Coyotl's demeanor became much more serious, almost somber, and he found himself nodding along. "Someone had to go to Shyregoed." It made sense, he thought, now wondering how large the family had been before it had split itself up. To those fleeing under threat of the Plague, even the cold expanse of the North would seem a welcoming place to escape to. That much, at least, he understood very well.
By the time the aproned woman presented him with a bowl of stew and bade him eat, he found that he'd become quite hungry without realizing it, probably as a result of the smells of cooking that wafted through the cabin. "Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said, accepting the bowl with a grateful smile and enjoying the warmth of it against his hands. "It smells delicious, I can tell you." Without waiting to be invited, he sought out a clear spot in front of the hearth and sat, careful not to spill any of the bowl's contents. "S'cuse me, pardon..." Sitting with his legs crossed, Coyotl glanced around while blowing on the stew to cool it, and hoped he looked at least halfway attentive as one of the men began introducing the family; with any luck, he wouldn't need to address any of the children by name, because there was no way on Earth or in Heaven that he was going to remember all of them. He kept up until 'Sevda', the woman who had been cooking, then gave up entirely, deciding he would just have to fudge it if it came up later. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you, an' thank you again for having me." He wasn't used to being this formal when meeting others- not that basic politeness constituted formality for most people- but so far, he was doing all right.
Somewhere along the way, though, he forgot that it was customary to give one's own name during an introduction, as well, and had to be prompted for it. "Oh, it's Coyotl," he replied without much thought. It seemed that since Yosif had been so forthcoming about his own family's history, it would be appropriate for him to share a bit of his own background as well... but the idea of it prompted a little twist in the pit of his stomach. Ignoring it, he continued, "I came from Uque about... twelve years ago? Thirteen, maybe. Then I lived in Mishkan for a couple years before-- ...um, spending a while in Auvinus. Traveling. Y'know." For anyone listening who could do simple addition, why he had left Mishkan when he did would be simple to guess, but he seemed dead-set on skimming over the subject, and hoped that no one would care. What difference would it make to them, either way? "Imisus seemed like a fair enough place to settle, so I found work carrying mail, and that's what I've been doing for five years now." There. Easy enough. Nothing to it.
rattatatatat, rattatat, rattatata tat tat, rattatat...
The sound of his own nails tapping nervously away at the side of the bowl in his hands surprised him. How long had he been doing that? Coyotl stopped abruptly. "Ah... Oh!" He'd almost forgotten. Setting the bowl aside for the moment, he shucked one arm out of the overcoat he was still wearing, and made a face despite himself at the feeling of wet cloth; the coat would take forever to dry if it wasn't aired out somewhere. "Can-- is there a place I can hang this?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 05, 2010 12:56 am
Each greeting was returned with a smile and a polite hello, and when he joined them on the mat, they all huddled together to allow him space. Sevda smiled, pleased that he approved, and shot a smug look to her family as she said, "I'm glad you like it." Yosif suppressed the urge to smirk and roll his eyes; instead, he answered. "It's our pleasure." He didn't really expect Coyotl to remember all of their names, so long as he had at least some vague idea of whose house he was in. So long as he knew that, they were not strangers. He preferred as few people to be strangers as possible.
When it came to story time, the kids listened intently; the adults less so. "What was it like there?" Regina asked in an awed whisper, ignoring his request. She knew what her heritage was--she had had some of the traditions described to her--but no one had been able to give firsthand descriptions for at least two generations. The others waited for the answer at well. Yosif frowned slightly at them, then returned to his calm and pleasant demeanor as he whispered in Pomona's ear. "Yes, she will take care of it for you." The little girl reached for the jacket.
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Posted: Tue Sep 07, 2010 10:56 pm
"Uh..." Coyotl hadn't counted on being asked to describe his homeland, but it shouldn't have surprised him. For all he knew, it could have been the children's first time meeting someone outside of their own family who shared a similar heritage; he could hardly blame them for being curious, but he could feel himself instinctively clamming up all the same. What was there to say? It wasn't as though he'd forgotten where he came from, but after years of trying to shut away all thoughts of his home village, he could scarcely tell what was worth mentioning and what wasn't.
Like it or not, though, he would have to come up with something. Start with simple things, the basics.
"Well, I grew up in a village called Xiuhtototl. It was named after a kind of bird, you know. It was as far north as you could go without getting your feet wet, but it was very very hot, not cold, like it is here in the North. Most people fished for a living, or traded, and everyone lived and worked very close to each other. Like a family."
By that point, Coyotl had almost forgotten that he only had one arm out of his coat, and when Pomona reached for it, he wriggled out of the other sleeve quickly, murmuring a thank-you and noting with satisfaction that the room seemed even warmer now that the heat from the fire no longer had to work its way through a layer of sogginess to reach him. He used this slight distraction as an excuse to stop and think, rubbing his face with his right hand. The thumbnail on that hand found its way into his mouth, and he chewed it between his canines for a moment. A description of how the people of his village had lived might be interesting to a historian or cultural scholar, but he wasn't sure it would be particularly entertaining to a child. There had to be something that would amuse them.
"You know, I think," he continued eventually, "that the birds in Uque are probably the most beautiful in the whole world. Here in Shyregoed you have these sparrows and things, little brown and grey birds, and those are fine, but have you ever heard of a quetzal? They live in the mountains, not near the sea, but I saw them sometimes, when I went hunting with the other boys. But quetzals are so beautiful, no one's allowed to hunt them. They have bright green and red feathers, and the green feathers are almost blue, like... like the water in a pond, or a lake, or something like that." It was the only comparison he could think of, being that he had no real sense of poetic simile or figurative language. "And they have the longest tails you can imagine for a bird-- much longer than a cat's tail! All together, they're about so long-" Coyotl held his palms roughly three feet apart, then, for effect, gestured at the girl who had asked him about Uque to begin with. "Bigger than you, probably. But that's mostly the tail." Youngsters loved being told that things were bigger than them, he reflected, pausing to let the comparison sink in as well as to scarf down a few bites of stew, since he'd been neglecting the bowl. Even though the kids weren't even that big, so being bigger than one of them wasn't saying an awful lot.
Still, a bird that size might be enough to impress them.
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Posted: Tue Sep 14, 2010 11:46 pm
When he mentioned the way the people worked together, Matteo interrupted, "Oh! That's what it used to be like when all of us lived together!" He was scolded for it by Lucius, but felt instant justification when Coyotl stopped anyways. Pomona took the coat, and, by standing on her tip-toes and holding it as low as she could, she was just able to hang it on the rack by the door. As fast as she could, she ran back and dove into her uncle's lap, right as explanations began again. The smaller children sat back, imagining what such a bird would look like with similar images running through the heads of the rest of the family. Pomona, though, was the first to snap back and provide a response, "There were really tall birds back in our marsh! But they were all white and tall, not long."
"Quetzals sound really pretty..." Regina added dreamily, still imagining.
Yosif smiled softly, then stroked the letters balancing on his leg as the children spoke. "You wouldn't have happened to see who wrote these, would you?" he asked.
He was not the only one awaiting an answer to this question. If Coyotl had been paying attention, he might note that the interior of the home wasn't as wide as it appeared on the outside, and there was a very distinct reason for that: On each side of the fireplace, there was a door. The further one was known to the children as the 'forbidden room'; it was the place where the adults slept and kept everything they didn't want the children to touch: weaponry, money, anything potentially hazardous. The other, closer to the door, had a single, constant occupant: Aysel's plague-ridden mother. And she was not alone. Aysel hadn't wandered out into the forest; she was here. She sat up close against the door, her ear pressed to the wood. If nothing else, she--though she told herself it was her mother--wanted to hear what the postman had to say.
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Posted: Fri Sep 17, 2010 12:11 am
Coyotl was pleased to see that the children were amused by his description; kids weren't so bad, really, as long as they were kept entertained. "Oh, there're marsh birds in Uque too," he told Pomona with an air of imparting somewhat confidential information, "but in Uque, some of them are pink. It's true, swear it on my eyes."
When Yosif asked him about the writer of the letter, it took only a moment of thought before he shook his head, shrugging with his palms displayed in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry, but most people who come around dropping letters off, I never see." It was true; his job was made up almost entirely of footwork, not clerical duties. He'd stop by in the morning, pick up a day's worth of scheduled deliveries, and return later in the evening to confirm them all, or return any that came back undeliverable. All in all, he probably spent less than a half-hour a day at the postal center. "If it helps, though," he offered, "these letters came to our building straight from the sender, they weren't forwarded from any other town. So they'd be from someone who lives in Imisus, near the southeastern shore."
After all, he thought with a bit of sourness, it was the sender themselves who had personally left specific instructions for the letters to be delivered by a postman from their division. Coyotl guessed this was because of previous incidents of mail getting lost on the way to the Vartanians; if it happened again, having the home letter-carriers handle it would allow someone to be held directly accountable. In this case, him. But that was all water under the bridge now, he figured. He'd done his job; all that was left was to wait for the next mail cart heading into Imisus to bring him home again.
But if Yosif wanted to know who had written the letters, why didn't he simply read them to find out? Perhaps he didn't want to read their contents aloud to the children just yet, in case they carried grim tidings. None of my business, anyway, Coyotl thought. The man surely had his reasons.
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Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2010 11:54 pm
Pomona leaned in with eyes like saucers. "Pink? Woaahhh... Do the people color them that way?" she asked. Her little mind could barely comprehend such an absolutely foreign idea; she had only seen the color pink on clothes and in food, never on anything that lived on land. That the coloring was unnatural, like that of clothes, was much easier to understand. Her mind's eye was stuck with the image of some kind of pale pink seagull.
Yosif nodded, understanding. That was the answer he most often heard. Coyotl's attempt for comfort did him no good; it wasn't what he was looking to know. Who was something easy to discover, but he knew quite well that the letters he received never told the whole story. Generally, each sect of the family consistently had one person write the letters, and whoever this person was rarely mentioned things about themselves. I am good, was a line often heard, said even if such was not the case. A couple of times, such a message had been consistently repeated, then the writer had suddenly changed, most often with the explanation, I'm sorry to say [name] has (fallen ill/passed away) with the (plague/some other disease). To know a description of the sender could sometimes give the information that lacked. "Well... we truly appreciate you coming all the way out here; I know finding us can be a little difficult. We thank you."
Aysel leaned away from the door and walked to her sleeping mother's side. It sounded as if things were wrapping up out there; it was probably time for her to go. Gently touching the woman's forehead and brushing back a couple of strands of hair, she spoke tenderly, "No new news yet. Did you know there are pink birds in Uque?" She kissed her forehead, then withdrew her not-so-little black book and charcoal pencil from their hiding place beneath the bed and returned to the door. She had to wait to make sure that it was really over. She didn't want to get caught up in their little party; if she was wrong, she knew she would.
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Posted: Wed Sep 22, 2010 11:12 pm
"Of course they don't!" Coyotl snorted upon hearing Pomona's question, though it wasn't a sound of derision; he'd simply been struck by the absurd mental image of someone pinning down one of the large, long-necked wading birds, properly called tlauhquecholli but more commonly just quecholli, while another person slathered dye over its feathers with a huge brush. "Someone told me the color is from the food they eat, but I think that's a load of--" In a rare display of forethought, he stopped himself before making a reference he wasn't entirely sure the children's parents would be pleased with. Instead, he sucked his lips between his teeth for a moment before choosing a different phrase. "... I mean, it sounds stupid to me. If that was true, why, I eat so many potatoes that I should be white as a sheet by now." He was no scientist, but Coyotl was pretty sure he knew an earful of bunk when he heard it.
He could also tell that Yosif was disappointed by his answer, though he could only guess at why. But again, it really wasn't his business; there was just no pleasing some people. "Just doing my job," he said to Yosif, dipping his head in acknowledgment of his thanks. "You all have been mighty hospitable, and I'm grateful." Having said that, he rested his palms on his legs, then levered himself up into a standing position, making a face as his knees gave a couple of small pops. "But I don't want to overstay my welcome, and I ought to get back to town and find an inn. There might be a cart coming through town in the morning headed into Imisus; I aim to catch it if I can. The sooner I get back home, the better. I've got to check on... err... something." He couldn't help frowning to himself as he caught himself just before finishing his sentence. For some reason, he felt odd about mentioning his fish to other people, even though there wasn't anything patently strange about it-- well, besides the obvious question of why a letter-carrier would own a fish, arguably a luxury item and certainly not something he would have bought for himself. But beyond that, the very particular nature of that fish- its seeming lack of a need to feed regularly, for instance, and the gooey black ball it seemed so possessive of- made him cautious about mentioning it.
Which was ridiculous, he reminded himself, especially considering who he was talking to-- sakes, these people didn't even live in the same part of the continent as he did, let alone close enough for anything he could possibly mention to them to spread around and start rumors!
For that matter... It was a very strange thing to ask someone about, but it was worth a try, at least; Coyotl had wanted to seek out some sort of information on his fish for some time, to try and figure out just what sort of animal it really was, but had never gotten the nerve to bring it up in conversation with anyone. There was no real reason he could see that the Vartanians would have any insight, though perhaps some branch of their scattered family had encountered something like it before and had written about it in a letter. And who better to ask than someone he was sure never to see again? Recognizing full well how foolish he was about to sound, Coyotl cleared his throat slightly. "While I'm thinking of it... Not that I'd think you would, but... D'you know anything about... uh, fish? The pet kind, I mean."
The question sounded just as stupid coming out of his mouth as he had expected it to.
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Posted: Sat Sep 25, 2010 12:53 am
Pomona blinked a couple of times, looking at her own skin and thinking of the color of the things that she eats--shortly followed by Regina and even, briefly, Matteo--and he earned an approving look from the adults for the catch of his phrase. "...I'd look like mud!" she finally decided as the older ones gave placid smiles of farewell, though those faded into an expression of confusion when he lost the certainty of what exactly he planned to do. For them, his question wasn't as stupid-sounding as it was just plain random and confusing. The children waited upon answers from the adults, who thought back. His discomfort only served to trouble and distract his audience, who pondered why this was so awkward for him. Yosif answered first, but he spoke slowly, uncertainly, "No... We know fish, but none of the pet sort."
"Actually, that's not entirely true... As a young child, my family had some pet fish..." Lucius interjected, seeming to slip back to his normal demeanor, though he was still slightly suspicious. "I might not be able to answer all your questions, but what did you need to know?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 7:04 pm
"It's not that important," Coyotl said hurriedly, squelching his nervousness with a reminder that he'd probably never meet these people again. There was nothing to worry about. "It's just-- I found this fish a few years ago, see, and I kept it," he continued, barreling on despite the seemingly nonsensical start to his explanation (how does one simply 'find' a fish?) "It doesn't look sick, but there's something in the water with it, and I can never seem to fish it out. It's round like a marble, but it looks... slimy, sort of." He held up his index finger and thumb a few centimeters apart, moving them back and forth as if rolling a tiny ball between his fingertips. "There's goop trailing off of it. Like some kind of black mud, or ink, or something."
That was all he'd mention, he decided; he didn't see the need to bring up the circumstances under which he'd "found" the fish, or its hardiness after being left in filthy water without food for days, maybe weeks on end. "I've never seen anything else like it myself. So I wondered if you've ever heard of anything similar. Maybe it's a kind of algae or something, but that's not what it looks like to me." Coyotl furrowed his eyebrows. Even thinking about that blob of whatever-it-was made him a little uneasy. "It's so black."
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