[Sauti] Backtracking and wasting time [Shea/Ozzrick]

[Heras Box]

The Only Black Uke

Just when he thought he could leave the blasted wind territories behind him he was right back in them. The red haired youth gave a frustrated sigh. He could for-go the large market and continue his search if he thought it would do him any good, but as it was the place was highly talked about and many people were making the trek there now. So there was a chance that Shea might be able to find his Uncle or even his cousins. Of course now he was more focused on looking for his female cousins than he was their worthless father. He knew of Uquin. Knew what he did for a living. But his cousins? He knew nothing of them except a name. Shea wanted to know more about them. They were much more worthy of his time.

At least that was how he saw it. Shea's green eyes looked around at the road he was on and marveled at how different it was now. The last he'd taken it he had been the only one traversing it's rocky path and now there were people almost everywhere. They were spread out, mind, but he could still see them. All in all it was a much more lively journey than the last. "Well, at least I won't be bored." He said to himself as he reached one hand back to fluff his hair. Since he had taken to wearing it in a ponytail recently he was unused to the bits that hung down and tickled his neck.
 

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Heras Box

Unbeknownst to both himself and the man whose path he had not quite yet crossed, Ozzrick was in a similar situation—at least with regard to an itching impatient eagerness to be through the wind territories and out, onto other things. But Ozzrick’s purposes were not nearly so driven or noble as tracking down family. One mother was enough blood relation for Oz to handle and it seemed like the perfect amount. Everyone else that became family earned the title—through actual dedication, trust, and shared circumstances.

To Ozzrick — whose family consisted of gypsies, a good portion of whom, like him, could identify one or fewer persons to call ‘parent’ by blood, and had since formed their own bonds with each other — that was a far more critical factor than precisely who had put what into whom in the process that lead to his or anyone else’s making.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind as he came darting around a street corner and—

—casually aligning himself with the fellow leaf boy he found there, taking up stride to his left as though he’d always been there, the fruits of his most recent labor tucked safely out of sight under his belt sash. Someone had been chasing him, and though he might have managed to ditch their trail already, it was certainly possible they were still trying, and there was no harm in capitalizing on the fact that to many Sautians (and even more true of the more distant foreigners here) ‘all leaflings looked alike.’ He unwrapped a strip of cloth at his waist which, as it turned out, was a vest he shrugged into that moment, and then proceeded to fasten his hair up.

With a few small differences, it was sometimes laughably easy to become ‘someone else’ to a stranger’s eyes. Speaking of, though, for the first time Oz put his full attention on his new ‘company’ and flashed a grin.

“Afternoon.”