[FIN] [Yael] Voice of the Goddess [Naqenni | Nivalis]

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Voice of the Goddess
[ Elzira’s Blessing, My Sister ]

Since the day she had been old enough herself to inquire about her people — her sisters, her race, all of them bloomed behind her and growing by the day — Naqenni had sought for signs and blessings, and wanted a history. Or the beginnings of one. Elzira’s legacy had begun with her own blooming, the dawn of a race never before seen in these lands or any other, but like anything new, it had nothing to show for itself then.

Nothing but herself, and her two bloom sisters, Ceylinae and Ku.

But she wanted for more than that as soon as she had known how to want, and when she had asked: Who will write our history? Our legends? Who will tell my story? Not the story of the alkidike and the earthlings and their wars. Not the story of banishment. Not the pains and the losses that her cousins remorsed over and steeped themselves in when they had time to talk of things past. Not the story of lands lost and jungles gone which were not her homeland at all.

Lumikani had scolded her to have patience. That, she had said, was the task of a mystic. Her mystic, she would be when Elzira saw fit. The first of her kind, and thus historical in much the way Naqenni herself was. She felt entitled to this. The little sister that would embody their mother tree coming into her own strength and providing them with a beacon for their people beyond their cousins before them.

When a mystic’s bloom had been announced, Naqenni had rejoiced, bright with pride and satisfaction that this island could give them something. With her they would be able to make themselves their own. But of course, such things took time. Nivalis was but an infant, then, only just lifted from the petals of her bloom, and the growth of a child required years. Years Naqenni needed, too, for she still was a child in her own right, whether or not she had ever felt it, and in the earliest of those, she had had plenty to keep herself occupied with. Her own training. Her own growth.

As Nivalis came of age, however, Naqenni kept close watch. As the oldest of Nivalis’ true sisters, she felt that duty as sharply as any sister, and she paid visits to the growing mystic when opportunity permitted. Then, at sixteen and six, it was finally deemed time that she could announce herself as a bow instructor for her sister. There were alkidike, of course, who were older and would give their own lessons, but as the eldest of her own, Naqenni refused not to be a part of the girl’s learning.

Her sisters would be her soldiers, and Nivalis—Nivalis would be their speaker for the goddess. She would need to be in as close keeping with her as could be managed, if they were to bring their tribe to greatness. After pausing a moment outside of the tent the young mystic kept quarters in with their matron, she stepped in.  

[Fluffesu]

"Have patience, Nivalis. Sit. Be still. Listen."

The young mystic sat with her legs crossed, palms laying open on her thighs, eyes pinched shut, posture stiff, and lips puckered into a pout. The matron sat across from her, in a similar position, albeit more relaxed and significantly less irritated-looking. Of course, Niva's meditation sessions usually started with her in higher spirits, but as the morning wore on, being still and quiet and practicing her breathing tended to leave the Elaria child feeling annoyed, anxious, and bored. She knew how to sit and hear and breathe. Continued 'practice' at it seemed a waste of time. Nothing ever changed.

No one ever spoke to her in all the ways she wanted. And she wanted very badly to know the messages of her goddess and the earth and the universe. If that was why Niva had been born at all, it just seemed like surely Elzira might let her know she was headed in the right direction. Mothers should praise their daughters for progress, after all. Or even scold her if she wasn't doing well enough. Niva would accept and be pleased with anything at this point.

She fidgeted and cracked open an eye just barely enough to see through. "I am listening," she grumbled, hunching down just slightly while the Matron's eyes were closed. "But there's nothing to listen to. You keep saying I'm too young for Mother to speak to me, anyway..."

As much as she tried to take those words to heart, Nivalis couldn't help but suspect that her Alkidike cousin couldn't possibly have any idea what was in store for her. Maybe she was young in terms of Alkidike mystics, too young for Aisha to speak to, but Niva was neither Alkidike nor worshiping some far away sister-tree. Elzira had bloomed her and was ready for her, and since she'd never had anyone else to speak to, she should have much to say to Nivalis.

The mother goddess didn't, as far as Niva could tell, but she should.

"You're doing more speaking than listening. Inhale." Niva did as she was bid, straightening herself into a more proper sit and heaving in a breath. The matron's gaze flicked up as the tent flap parted and nodded n greeting at the young woman before her. "Exhale."

Nivalis huffed out an agitated breath and bent double to flop her head against the ground in a messy display of impatience and frustration. "This takes too long," she groused without managing to peel herself from the floor. "I'm ready to do something else."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Naqenni supposed she ought to have expected or hoped for ‘better’ behavior from their first mystic. More composed, perhaps. Regal despite her youth. ‘Wise beyond her years.’ Graceful, poised, fierce, serious, attentive, mature—

As the youngest in the room flopped forward drop her head to the ground face first from her sitting position, Naqenni felt the edge of her mouth twitch. And, instead of disappointment or irritation at the display of exasperation, amusement stirred in her chest. Her antennae coiled, the tendrils at her neck flicking. She moved to stand just inside the entryway, and then a step nearer, hands folding behind herself and catching at the wrist, legs shoulder width apart and shoulders back. Her eyes, though, studied her little sister.

“Is this a new meditating pose?” she asked. “I haven’t seen it before.”

On the one hand, she knew she oughtn’t encourage too much off-track behavior. Nivalis’ role on the island and to her race as a whole was too critical to be taken lightly. But she was also a child yet, and learning quickly, Naqenni was sure. Some flopping and rolling would not spell doom or failure for anyone.

Besides, Naqenni would be lying outright if she said she couldn’t relate to the young girl’s impatience with their alkidike ‘elders.’ One day, it would be Nivalis’ task to move above and beyond the matron now before her and carve a path with her true sisters all her own. There seemed to be little harm in a flare for independence early on, at least from her own perspective. But, while the girl was under the matron’s tutelage, Naqenni felt obliged to continue offering begrudging respect in that direction—for now. She turned her attention to the older woman.

“Am I early?”  

[Fluffesu]

Nivalis sat bolt upright with a short squeak of alarm. 'Listening' seemed like it might have come in more handy than expected, as she ought to have known when one of her sisters entered the tent at her back. In Niva's defense, it wasn't as though she was expecting anyone. It was one thing to flop foolishly in front of the woman that came as close to a guardian as Niva thought she would get, and another thing entirely to do so in front of another Elaria. Or anyone that was less familiar than the matron.

And Naqenni was the oldest of her sisters, likely the wisest and strongest and certainly the most experienced of every Elaria that had ever bloomed. If Niva wanted anyone's respect, she wanted Naqenni's. This was not likely the way to earn it.

She peered over her shoulder at the older girl, hoping that the color creeping to her cheeks wasn't too apparent, or if it was, that it didn't somehow make her appear more foolish and weak. But as she dared to glance up toward Naqenni's face, Nivalis thought she looked more amused than annoyed, so she hazarded an initially small smile at her older sister. "It's my meditation pose," she informed the older girl. "I can't be expected to follow the same trend of any others before me."

When the matron stood and moved toward the eldest Elaria, Niva decided to take that as an opportunity to do the same. She rose, stretched her arms high over her head, then dipped at the waist to touch her toes. Sitting still and stiff for so long was an uncomfortable process.

"No," the matron answered breezily. "Now is as good a time as any. Our focus dwindles at an alarming rate at this time of day."

She layered a hand to rest between Niva's coiled antenna, and the young Elaria beamed brightly. "Well, I didn't expect you," Nivalis retorted as she pulled from the matron's touch to lock her arms around Naq's legs. "But if you came to see me, Sister, than I am pleased."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

The squeak was unexpected—though perhaps it oughtn’t have been, on a girl so young. It simply was not the ever poised manner with which mystics were reputed to conduct themselves. But then, this was different, and Naqenni had no doubt the older, war-story-toting alkidikes glossed over the details when they had spoken of theirs and the ‘legacy’ that was a mystic in the course of history.

After all, if they were so grand and pivotal as stories liked to suggest, where were they now?

But that was neither here nor there, and Nivalis was—right here, and now, present before her. And turning an interesting shade of darkened pink-gray. “No,” Naqenni answered. “You cannot. You are something new.”

While in years past, Naqenni had occasionally been scolded — not by her mothers, but others more bitter among the tribe — for her quickness to scoff at the past, go against its grain, and act to set herself apart, she found more freedom to do so now, in her mid-and-growing teens. To say any such thing before the matron herself might have been ‘pushing’ it. But the words were true, and she was not feeling more than civily deferential.

Her gaze did rise, though, when the matron did, and she gave a dip of a nod with her chin. All but immediately, however, Nivalis retook focus, darting forward to wrap about her legs, and Naqenni’s good humor — so rare as it was, generally speaking — stirred back to life, just edging into the corners of her expression again.

“Good,” she said aloud. “Because I did. We’re going to speak about bows, and your training.” In a moment of uncharacteristic hesitance, she eyed her sister, hands still locked behind her in a loose, soldierly at ease before she released them, hovering near to but not quite touching any part of the mystic clinging to her. Physical holding had not been much a part of her own upbringing, and though she felt that perhaps she ought, she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. So she spoke instead. “Do you prefer to sit here? Or, if you have sat enough, we may walk.”  

[Fluffesu]

Perhaps Nivais wasn't the most dignified specimen to ever grace Yael's soil. But neither was she trying to be. Or rather, it wasn't exactly a concern of hers. Other things were: her training, her sisters, her future. Their future. As long as she was still working toward that goal of being what she was destined to be, what did the finer points of how she actually behaved really matter? She wasn't doing anything offensive or against mystic rules, and there was hardly anyone who would scold her for it if she was.

Maybe her older sister wasn't the scolding type, but Niva had a feeling she would find out very quickly if she did something Naqenni disapproved of. It didn't seem likely to come after agreeing with her, though. Nivalis beamed. Yes. She was something new, and new things were grand, always. Much better than old things. The other Elaria girl must surely agree with her, as she looked to be in good spirits, herself.

And there were clearly good things in store for today, if her sister had come to see her specifically and talk to her specifically and want to be with her specifically and without the matron hovering nearby.

Niva dislodged herself from around Naqenni's legs to peer excitedly back at the old Alkidike woman. It sounded planned by everyone except Niva herself, and they clearly weren't making progress in the area of meditation. She expected this portion of the day's lessons were as good as over. "I can go for a walk with Naqenni?"

The matron dipped her head. "You may."

Beaming, Niva wrapped her fingers around Naqenni's wrist and stepped back toward the tent's entrance, tugging excitedly as she did. "It feels like I've been sitting for a very long time," she admitted in her quick, eager tone. "But it probably hadn't been that long. Still, if we may, I would like to go for a walk. It is a good day for it." Most were, in Niva's opinion.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

I would like to go for a walk.

Something in Naqenni’s posture relaxed, and she allowed herself to be satisfied. While it didn’t feel quite appropriate — even by her standards — to say so directly in front of the matron, she rather preferred the idea of speaking with Nivalis on her own, in private without the constant presence of listening ears. On the one hand, it wasn’t as though she suspected the subject matter of their conversation would stray into ‘objectionable’ territory so far as the subtle undercurrent of tension between her own race and their alkidike cousins was concerned, she still appreciated the freedom that came with unburdened conversation.

And she wanted time to herself with this particular little sister. The matron, an alkidike, had her always, day in and day out morning to night, and with that, all the influence that came with being a pivotal figure in a youngling’s life. Naqenni felt entitled to some time of her own.

Thus, when Nivalis’ fingers clasped around her wrist, Naqenni’s satisfied smile cemented itself, and she moved with the younger girl’s pull.

“It is,” she said as they stepped out of the tent and into the morning, damp and cool with the after-effects of a fresh rain that had only recently dispersed, leaving the air crisp in the rainfall’s absence. But to Naqenni, most days were apt for walking in—ever better than sitting, in any case, which she rarely personally had the patience for. Once they had made it far enough out that she trusted her words would be for their ears only, she spoke. “I know you’ve been working with Layeta on archery…but you are grown enough now, and an Elaria, not an alkidike — as your eldest sister, I will begin giving you lessons of your own. I do not know if you have a preference yet…but as a mystic, you should have a familiarity with all the weapons your sisters use, not just the one you favor.”

Saying it aloud gave Naqenni pause, for — though the words came from her mouth — it felt like her caretaker mother, Kasama, speaking through her, having said such similar things to her in the past. You are the first of your kind, and should know every weapon backwards and forwards, whatever your preferences. The thought, though, drew to mind her ailing mother in the days before her death—and Naqenni promptly pushed the idea from her mind, tucking it away. Now was not the time.

“Does Elzira speak to you yet?” Perhaps it was too soon to ask, but the question would be on Naqenni’s mind until the answer was yes, and in this case, it left her tongue before she thought better of it. She didn’t bother looking regretful—as soon as their mother tree did begin speaking with the young mystic after all, she wanted to know of it.  

[Fluffesu]

Stretching her legs felt so nice after hours of sitting still and listening to nothing and breathing. Not that she didn't want to breathe, but it was a practice she'd mastered some six years ago. The young Elaria beamed as the first breath of crisp wind tickled the ends of her antenna. The outside air was nice and cool, a bit muggy, but still much better for physical exercise, rather than stationary ones. Nivalis had no idea yet how she'd manage to meditate in the cold months, when sitting still and quiet and alone would be just plain unreasonable and torturous.

Maybe Mother would only speak to her during the summer months, when the heat of the day inspired an overwhelming sense of lethargy and calm. When she had anything to say at all, of course.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful, Sister," Niva beamed as she pranced a quick pace ahead, not far enough to free Naq's still-captured appendage, but enough to twist about and peer back at her. "You must be a wonderful teacher, with experience in helping all of our sisters' skills develop. I haven't had much practice with any of our weapons, yet, so I'm probably not very good..." But that would change, and it wasn't an especially concerning point at this time. She had years to learn, after all.

"But I like all of them!" Niva piped a moment later. "I've watched our cousins spar with blades before. They're the prettiest, I think." She swayed just a bit. "They make it look like a perfect balance between delicate and lethal. It is nice to watch them. Layeta says bowmanship requires a mastery of patience, perseverance, and precision. I'm already having many lessons in patience. They would probably go well together."

Perhaps she didn't have a preference. Nivalis hardly had practice with any of her tribe's chosen weaponry, let alone time to get to know each specifically and determine which she shold devote her time to excel at. Nevermind that she needed to be able to use one in conjunction with her still blossoming magical abilities. Very few of her cousins could teach her that. For now, it was pleasing enough that Naqenni was interested in teaching her this. She was surely more suited than any of the Alkidike. Naq would understand her needs better than most. Niva was hopeful.

The feeling was dashed almost immediately at her older sister's next words. Niva's fingers pinched in around Naqenni's wrist, nails unintentionally biting lightly into the skin there. But... "No," she muttered after a long pause.

But that was maybe inaccurate? "Rather, I'm not sure," she admitted. "The matron says Mother has a funny way of talking. In dreams and raindrops and gusts of wind." The corners of her lips edged down, her antenna drooped, and her shoulders hunched. "If our goddess has been speaking to me, I have not heard it."

"But I can learn," she assured quickly. "It could take a while, I suppose, but I will learn."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Fluffesu

Happy.

It was the first and only word Naqenni could initially think to describe her younger sister and her behavior in those first moments that they left the enclosure of the matron’s tent. Bubbling with energy and enthusiasm for the world — with, to Naqenni’s surprise, some degree of grounded realism, I haven't had much practice with any of our weapons, yet, so I'm probably not very good… — and physically bouncing with it, all of which seemed to lighten the air around her.

It was an unusual feeling in Naqenni’s repertoire.

The moment she voiced her latter question, however, she knew she had made a mistake—at least, in terms of appealing to Nivalis’ positive mood.

“Elzira is young yet,” she said almost the instant Nivalis finished—too quick perhaps to be a smooth reassurance, but intended as one just the same. “As you are. She chose and created you by her design as her first mystic, just as she designed and created me and my first bloom sisters, Ku and Ceylinae, to be her first daughters and the first of our kind. Everything we are is her intention…” Naqenni considered for a moment before admitting, “I do not know what year the mystics on the foreign isle of traitors begin to hear from or speak with their mother tree, Aisha. But Elzira is her improved rebirth, and she chose you as the first to speak for her. Whenever you hear from her will be the right time and not a moment before then.”

Naqenni looked forward, eyeing the treeline as they walked and considering her words before continuing.

“So long as we follow with her will, we will not repeat the failures of our cousins before us. Our mother does not make mistakes.”  

[Fluffesu]

They always said that. Niva's lips stretched to a thin line, and her antenna dipped and coiled close in distaste. 'Elzira is young. You are young. These things will come with time and practice.' Or some variant of it, anyway. Nivalis didn't question the wisdom of her peers and elders, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it. It felt, to her, like she ought to be doing more than waiting and 'practicing.' There should be something relevant that she could do now. But there really weren't many places where a six-year-old girl was needed.

And being around for 'show' wasn't as rewarding as one might think.

Nivalis grimaced and glanced sidelong. It seemed like very few of her sisters were well-versed in the feelings department, but there was no denying that Naqenni had at least tried, despite her commentary being mostly unwelcome. As her eldest sibling was a bit more abrupt than most, the effort didn't go unnoticed, and Niva certainly didn't want to be offended at her.

"Yes," she hummed after a quiet pause, focusing ahead once more. "We will do whatever is asked of us. Or... whatever it seems like is being asked of us." Her gaze lifted to Naqenni again. "The Matron says her messages aren't always especially clear. That part is... well, I'm scared about that part too. It sounds like there's a chance to be wrong about them. I don't really want to be wrong."  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

It was, again, immediately clear that Naqenni had not struck quite the chord she’d aimed for as Nivalis’ expression pinched and her antennae slunk with displeasure. Children were more complicated than she had anticipated. But, given even a moment’s thought she supposed that oughtn’t have been unexpected. This was not simply any child. And she, too, had been — and was, from time to time — itching and impatient. For answers, for progress, for purpose beyond the same overworn phrases and promises of grandeur. Nivalis had seemed like a sign from her goddess at the turn of a crossroads for Naqenni, convincing her to stay when all forward progress otherwise felt stalled.

But, Nivalis had been given no such sign yet, and Naqenni was not so old she had forgotten her own feelings at that age entirely.

“You won’t be,” she said. “But even if you are, you will have all of your sisters at your back to follow you, to protect you, and to help, in whatever way we may, if you need it, until the path is found again.” She hesitated, debating before speaking plainly. “When I had seen only six summers on this island, I was ready to fight, I thought. To lead my sisters in battle and avenge the wrongs against our cousins. Or, if not that, then to at least begin and know all of the island I lived on. But I couldn’t. My body was not grown and neither was my mind. It was maddening to wait for both, and it has been years, and all is still not ready.”

She glanced to her little sister.

“Things often take much more time than we might like, and sometimes feel as though no matter what we do, we are still treading the same ground without progress. I have wanted before to change everything in a night and felt that if I only became strong enough, if I were only angry enough, and-” She frowned. This was perhaps not the best direction to take the conversation with a child. Even the mystic. She exhaled. “What I mean to say…is that now is the time to make mistakes and have no fear,” she said. “The task before you is more complicated than most and I do not know what it may become, but one day there will be real dangers to fear and your mistakes could be the lives of our sisters. At this moment…the only task upon you is to learn and become stronger until our goddess is ready to test you.”

Realizing that this was not necessarily the most uplifting of notes to end on, Naqenni frowned again, and opted for a redirect to a topic and task she at least understood and felt confident in managing: “Would you like to shoot something?”  

[Fluffesu]

Nivalis' minty eyes pinched into a squint, her nose crinkled up, and her lips swished to one side as she peered up at Naqenni at her words. Practice and patience was all she could do for now, but the Matron had also repeatedly informed her that one day her decisions could affect her tribe and her sisters. It was a message gifted to her repeatedly, persistently, and she'd hoped that Naqenni, the eldest of the Elaria blooms, might have something... better for her. Niva wondered, then, if all and her elders and sisters came together as a unit to discuss and decide upon what were the most appropriate topics of conversations and phrases to use when Nivalis happened to have a listening ear.

But at length, that seemed unlikely. As a former Alkidike mystic, the Matron had likely had some role in the upbringing of younger Alkidike, and Naqenni's guardians were surely nowhere near the practically ancient state of the elder mystic. They'd had time to learn from the old woman in her prime, and whatever knowledge they'd gained from her, they'd likely given to Naqenni, and now to Niva as well.

She puffed out a sigh. "You sound like the Matron."

But it was nice to know that she wasn't the only one eager for her role in the future, and Naqenni had managed to wait a full decade longer with scarcely any of her sisters to keep her company in her younger years. At least Nivalis could count on the guidance of other Elaria. She smiled then, and looped an arm up to hook around Naq's elbow. "I suppose... that we can't force our destinies to come to us. And I could stand to be grateful for this time of peace with you, my sister." Nivalis beamed and leaned, touching the side of her head to Naqenni's hip as they walked.

"You will teach me how?" She prompted at the idea of 'shooting something.' "Can I use your bow?"  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

You sound like the Matron.

Naqenni blinked. She couldn’t say it was something she’d ever been accused of—told?—before, and couldn’t decide immediately whether to take it positively or otherwise. She didn’t think she wanted to sound like the old crone. Not for the most part. The woman was wizened by her years and experience, certainly, and Naqenni had a tacit respect for that. No one in the tribe knew all that she did or had seen half as much in their lifetimes, and she had lead them here.

But she was old, and—so far as Naqenni saw it—a living relic of their history. Too ‘patient.’ Too slow and restrictive. Too alkidike to indefinitely lead their rebirth. When Nivalis came of age, change would be upon them. But, until that time, Naqenni supposed that if some of what she had to say overlapped with the Matron’s wisdom, that wasn’t in itself a bad thing.

Fortunately, Nivalis didn’t seem particularly bothered either. Though it had sounded vaguely in the realm of a complaint at first, she was leaning in the next moment, bumping to her—and smiling again. A pinch of pleased heat warmed her cheeks.

“Yes,” she answered. “And…” Her expression was very slightly more leery on the second portion, but, “ …yes…though we will be very careful.”

Nivalis had, to her knowledge, some of her most basic training with weapons underway already, and at least with her present and supervising, it seemed unlikely she’d damage anything by working with Naqenni’s bow. No other youngling would have been afforded such leeway, but it wasn’t the first special exception the mystic had been privy to Naq was sure. She lead the way, passing by her tent to gather her weapon before taking them just outside of camp to a small clearing. The space was familiar, a circle of jungle devoid mostly of trees but for a massive fallen trunk at the west side, and a number of bulbous hives, some growing out from or nested against trunks and others hanging from the overhang branches.

As a small girl, her mother Kasama had taken her often for practice. Taking an arrow between her fingers, she raised and strung her bow, debating before settling on a hive mound growing up from the fallen trunk, nocking, and loosing. The instant her arrow met its mark, a sea of activity erupted: fluttering insect wings in a discombobulated swarm, black, purple, and blue. They were harmless, graceless fliers, easily stirred into confusion, most just large enough to take aim for—though, as a child it had always been most satisfying to stir the initial outburst.

‘When you can hit ten without missing, come home.’

Naqenni waited until they had dispersed more evenly, flitting about the clearing like small, clumsy birds, occasionally alighting on various perches before taking off again, active and glimmering with phosphorescent wings now that their peace had been disturbed. She turned to Niva, holding out her bow.  

[Fluffesu]

'Careful' wasn't something Nivalis initially thought to acquaint with her older sister, and her first impulse response of 'You don't need to be careful with me. I want to be able to handle anything you can,' bubbled to the tip of her tongue. But she swallowed it back. She did want to train in the same ways as Naqenni did- the same ways as she did now and not when she'd been Niva's age- but that seemed like a recipe for failure, and the thought that she even could possibly match Naqenni in any of her skills sounded like an insult to the other Elaria. Nivalis wanted to prove she had some talent, but this was probably not the way.

Instead, she nodded in agreement. "We will be careful," she repeated and followed the other female as they made their way through camp.

More important than that, though, was the chance to peer inside Naqenni's living quarters, for however briefly. As her sister stepped inside to collect her bow, Niva poked her head in behind her and cast her gaze around. She was back outside by the time Naq retreated and beaming brightly. "Do you live by yourself?" She prompted as they moved from camp. "I suppose you're old enough to, but not by very much, I would think. But I guess a lot of the older Elaria would rather live by themselves than with their Alkidike guardians... I think Ku lives by herself too, doesn't she? Does it not get lonely sometimes?"

"I don't think I'll have to worry about being lonely for a long time. I don't know if the Matron will ever leave the mystic tent. She's so old, she'll probably just die there." Not that Niva would begrudge her that. The old woman was an Alkidike and occasionally repetitive and annoying, but she had planted Elzira's seed. So if she wanted to pass while beneath her branches, that seemed her right. "I don't mind, though. I'll always have our Mother's company there, but she doesn't speak very much, so the Matron will have to do, for now."

Naqenni's clearing was a land yet unexplored to Nivalis. Most of her early practices took place in camp, near to where she could be tended to if something unfortunate did befall her, and much of her endurance training outside of camp didn't leave time for enjoying the sights.

When Naqenni's arrow thunked into a hive and resulted in an explosion of many tiny bodies, Nivalis offered up a soft, "Oooh," of wonder and watched the creatures scatter amongst themselves. Briefly she thought they might retaliate in some form because why wouldn't they (and it wouldn't have surprised her for her sisters to have dangerous training regimens where the danger of being eaten by insects was a very real one). But that didn't seem to be keeping with Naqenni's want for 'careful,' and after a moment, the nervous tension holding Niva stiff relaxed.

It took her a beat too long to realize what the actual goal of the disturbance had been, and by the time she snatched her sister's bow from her fingers, Nivalis was flushing faintly in embarrassment.

"Mmm, okay, let's see..." There were many lazily buzzing targets to choose from. Or, more accurately, many distractions from whichever one she did make a target out of. Nevermind that Naqenni's bow was heavier and larger than anything Nivalis had practiced with, and just pulling back an arrow was proving to be more of a task that she could handle.

Her minty gaze flicked quickly to her sister, than back to the bow, where another tussle with the weight and string was about to ensue. But she wasn't about to be the one to ask for 'help.'  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

“I live with my caretaker mother, Izari,” Naqenni answered, “though it is mostly me that tends to affairs now. She has become…” Naqenni debated on which word to use to describe the woman now, “…weak since her mate, who also raised me, returned to the earth. Kasama was my battle instructor.”

As she spoke, she watched Nivalis, studying her reactions as she watched the display, noting the moment it occurred to her what their purpose was, and then waiting as she took up the bow and began to experiment with it. It was of course too large for her with a draw weight beyond her small arms. This was Kasama’s bow, which Naqenni hadn’t taken up until after her death, and had still taken some adjusting to at the time—longer and harder to nock than any Naqenni had hunted with up to that point.

But Naq had always hated it when her instructors informed her of what she wasn’t capable of before allowing her to try and find out for herself what her limits were. In certain instances of course, it was necessary—in some cases, things had to be off-limits to secure her safety. In others, however, it would have been perfectly fine to allow her to test and discover her own limits rather than being denied from the outset.

Thus, it wasn’t until Nivalis had explored her options and glanced up that Naqenni stepped closer and knelt at her side, just behind her. Reaching around, she layered her hands over Niva’s, both at the grip and the nocking point at the tail of her arrow. Then, with Niva, she studied their options, picked her target, nocked, and loosed. The arrow struck, burying itself in the wood of a far trunk something like an exaggeratedly large stick-pinned-butterfly ready to be added to some collection.

“A bow grows with the archer,” Naq said. “The best bow for us is one suited to our strength and stature, so that a smaller, lighter bow may be more dangerous in younger hands than a more powerful one that she cannot pull.” After a pause to let the message rest, she tapped Nivalis’ fingers on the bowstring lightly. “Pull it to as far as you can hold it at. Let me see your draw.”