Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ataya ran his fingers through his hair, eyeing the image reflected back at him in the small hand mirror propped up against the foot of his bed with a concentrated frown. After a moment, he pursed his lips and turned away from it, gathering two books recently vested from the Taliuma library and strapping them together before starting out of his room. Due to Dysarrin’s increased unreliability as of late, Ataya travelled to his ‘spot’ with all things necessary to keep him fully engaged whether or not the wildboy chose to show up on that particular day. Some days, he even reneged on the venture himself — but not often. Little as he wanted to look ‘desperate’ for the other’s company, he had typically ventured out on his own well before Dysarrin ever disrupted the peace and solitude of it, and he saw no reason to let his friend’s whims interfere with that.

Besides, it wasn’t far of a walk.

As he made his way out of his room, down the hall and through the front door, however, his attention caught on the sound of splashing — and his sister’s laughter — mixed with Lyari’s enthusiastic trills. He paused in the doorway, lingering and watching for a moment in silent amusement as Akara guided along a floating ‘snake’ of water to chase and be chased by her bonded in what had likely started as a ‘magic lesson’ and gradually devolved into whatever it was now. The corner of his lip twitched, tempted upwards, and he stepped out onto the path leading out of the house and down, closer to the lake.

“Surely he’s a master by now, sister, after all your rigorous…training,” Ataya said, tilting his head as he eyed the rapidly growing — but still small — little orakoi. “Pray tell, though, what precisely are you teaching him at the moment?”

Ataya blinked, posture and expression shifting at his sister’s reaction, wholly unanticipated. “I was…” he said, frowning, “…but…you’ve always been welcome to join, and generally I didn’t even know you…”

He hesitated and glanced fleetingly up the path that would have lead him to his spot of study. Dysarrin had been coming in later, often, and on a number of occasions not at all. Was it even worth it to go up to study alone and work for hours on the chance that his friend might approach if Akara was missing him as she said? There was, after all, nothing stopping Dys from coming down to find him if he did show up and Ataya wasn’t there. He knew where their house was. At length, he looked back to his sister, huffing and resituating his books.

“If you wanted to do something together, you ought to have said something. You were my friend first, you know, and Dysarrin is dimwitted but he isn’t completely incapable. I’m sure he can find me if he really wanted.” Ataya glanced to the lake and then down to Lyari. “What say I give you this day, mm? And if he does show up and miss me, he can manage it how he will. If not, neither of us lose. Now…do you want to continue practicing magic, or something else? We could train Lyari together or go swimming or…”

Ataya relaxed as his sister’s expression brightened, pleased that it had been that simple. Dysarrin would certainly survive if he came passing, and he had not been for a good swim in quite some time. So, this decided, he moved off, setting his books safely far out of harm’s way and splashing distance before stooping to remove his boots and excess clothes.

In other environments — even to some extent in the safety of the shoreline by his uncles’ house — Ataya was more prone to heavy, growing self-consciousness when it came to stripping down into something acceptable for swimming in. A product of both his awkwardly developing teenage body and his mind’s irritating tendency to want to dwell on such things more often, something it never used to do half so much. He kept his tunic on often, now, when his uncles were about, even when he did intend to get wet, hyper-aware of how visible his ribs were without it, and how strange and knobbed his legs looked, his knees like large lumps connecting the disjointed twigs that were his thighs and calves.

Here, though, he had no judgement to fear. No passerby to anticipate with anxiety or stray concerned glance — other than from his sister, who didn’t count in the same way. And so, he removed everything but his undergarnments, shucking his tunic, belt, and leggings and leaving them folded beside his boots before approaching the lakebed. He fingered through his hair as he did, testing the water with a toe and debating. Loose, his hair fell to his waist now: black-purple and straight as a blade. He considered, briefly, fastening it back for neatness’s sake, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came and flashed his sister a fleeting hint of a grin before darting towards the looming tree that overhung the water.

Practice from as young of an age as his limbs would allow made up, mostly, for his innate clumsiness and physical ineptitude, allowing him to make quick time scaling the low branches and edging out onto the thick, sweeping limb that they — more his sister than he — often used as a diving platform. He crouched, drew a breath, leaned, and let go, tilting off the branch and sinking with a splash into the lake surface a moment later.

Ataya shut his eyes as he sank, holding himself in a ball as the water rushed past at first and then slowed, gradually, as he came to equilibrium. There, he let himself unfold, opening his eyes and squinting up through the blue-green towards the light of the surface, and then around him. Though he wasn’t peisio, having grown up with water and around water and having been exposed since infancy to it, water relaxed him in ways few things did. In it, he was suspended, weightless without all the effort of holding himself up in a heavy world, and things quieted when he was beneath it.

He shut his eyes again, holding himself still and listening to the impact of his sister’s splash — feeling the pulse of her magic as she cut, almost unnaturally smoothly, into it — the magic imprint almost more obvious than the physical ripple itself. He shook his head, hair teasing his scalp with the motion in the way that hair tended to become both weightless and more heavy in different ways when submerged, and then, he gave a light, lazy kick towards the surface. Wiping the water and hair from his face, he glanced over for his sister, tossing her a wet half-smile from beneath his hand.

“You land like you’re part of the water,” he said. “Do you want to race?”

Ataya hummed, sinking beneath the surface again and slipping out of the way as Lyari made his entrance. After diving several feet under, he kicked stiffly, propelling himself to the nearest shore and then waiting for his sister to arrive before gesturing to the opposite side. “There and back, mm?” he said and then glanced to Lyri. “You can be the judge. And, erm, ‘count’ us off, hm?”

It didn't seem fair.

Dysarrin lay on his back, head tipped toward the place where he continually expected Ata would appear. For each second that ticked by, he felt increasing amounts of annoyance, irritation, and a pitiful urge to mope that may be aptly described as 'disappointment.' Disgusting and completely unwanted. And it was, really and truly, all Ataya's fault. What right did stupid Best Pet have to not be here after throwing such a spoiled, hissy tantrum just the other day? While Dysarrin, being incredibly loyal, honest, and the best samaritan this plane had to offer, dutifully fulfilled his promise to try and make it out to the Spot with more regularity.

So here he was. And here Ataya was not. Did this make even one iota of sense? No. Dys bemoaned this injustice by groaning aloud, tipping his head back far enough that the top curve of his horns scraped and dug into the ground. Ataya should be here. It was his sole purpose; being here, at the Spot, when Dysarrin wanted him.

A scuttling off behind him had the wild hybrid immediately rolling to all fours, snarling out an expectant "Who told you to-" And then his luminous green gaze landed on the immediately stilled frame of a bouken. It stared at him, wide-eyed and completely rigid, one paw hovering in the air as if it no more expected to see him than he expected to see it. Somehow this bouken had the gall to not be Ataya and then sit there staring at him like it was important.

Dysarrin yowled.

He launched himself forward at the unsuspecting creature. Its tiny body bunched, and it spun around, suddenly desperate for escape. Unfortunately, its hesitance cost it. Before it made it more than a step, Dys was on it, slamming the flat of his palm against the squishy body and sending a very startled bouken careening back against the rocks with a squeak. He didn't waste his time to see if it dared rise again.

With a burst of agitated flames leaping from his curled fists, Dys rose, sauntering off in the direction where Ataya kept his 'house.' If he was going to be late (or even worse; have the foolish degree of bravery required to not show up at all), Best Pet would have to be punished. It seemed perfectly fair and reasonable, and Ata would learn better from it, anyway. The Firani satisfied himself with thoughts of an incoming apology upon his arrival. Maybe it'd even be accompanied by a suitably ashamed and exceptionally pitiful promise to always be in the Spot waiting for him, like Dys expected.

What he didn't expect to hear, as he picked his way ever-closer to the territory Ataya and his family had laid claim to was the jovial, high-pitched sounds echoing up the mountainside. Didn't sound like any of the squawking sounds Ata made around him. And as Dys loomed within line-of-sight of the nearby pond, he realized probably because Ataya wasn't making them. The actual culprit; a colorful reptile, small in stature, bouncing delightedly on the side of the lake.

Dys tipped his head at it and slunk down toward the ground again, prowling across the green grass until he was close enough to give the chirpy thing aprod to the back of its neck.

Lyari’s tail swished, back and forth through the grass, as he watched the race and mentally cheered on Akara. So intent was he, on watching the two of them swim, he didn't hear someone approaching him from behind until it was too late. As soon as his neck was touched, Lyari jumped, yelping in surprise and jerking around to face whatever had touched him. In his haste, his clawed feet slipped on the muddy bank and all he saw, before tumbling back into the water, were large horns and green glowing eyes. He yelped as he hit water and flailed until he was back upright, treading water as he narrowed his eyes at the intruder.

Kara felt Lyari’s panic and with a last burst of energy she was closing the last bit of distance and propelling herself out of the water and to the bank, ready to face whatever had scared her friend. When her eyes fell on Dysarrin, her brows pinched together. “Dysarrin…” She hesitated, mentally sighing as she realized that her alone time with her brother was officially over. Kara gave him another look as Lyari climbed out of the water and nudged at Kara’s hand. “You shouldn't sneak up on others like that.” She scratched absently at Lyari’s head and glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing in on her brother as he made his way over to them.

Ataya took his time — or, such was probably the appearance of things, anyway, though he didn’t purposefully go especially slow — and by the time he arrived, coming upon the opposite shore and wading his way out, soaked, he blinked at the narrow-eyed look his sister was giving him, and frowned. “What?” he insisted. Had he not just stayed here for her? Swam with her? Thrown a race for her? She was supposed to be pleased with him on this day, and Dysarrin…

Ataya turned to Dys, ringing his hands through his hair to tease out at least some great brulk of the dampness there before tilting his head, and smiling amusedly. “I see you found the house again,” he said, privately relieved as he watched the two interact that his friend didn’t seem to have any immediate issue with Lyari, which had been a largely unspoken concern since his sister had bonded to the small khehora. “Would you like to join us in swimming? The water’s quite warm. And clean.”