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Character || Hijil
Stage || Massif
Crafting || Bracelet
Crafting Stat || 19+2
Difficulty || 4
Roll Needed || 50-100
Rolled || 85
Outcome || Success
Experience earned ||
4+20=24 exp

Hijil always felt safest in trees. In Jauhar, in general, the understory was where the danger was. In the canopy, also, it was easier to hide. Between those two reasons, Hijil generally stayed high. She built high. If she'd been left to her own devices, and if her gathering didn't involve gifts from the ground (or the ocean) she would live, entirely, in the trees.

While watching Ishida, She still preferred to be up high and hidden, even when her children were playing on the ground. She could be down there with them. She could be in the bushes. She preferred to be hidden and stealthy from on high, however, even when her daughter stayed close to home. It just felt odd, otherwise. It was, like her sleeping in the day, a habit long engrained into her and, subsequently, a hard habit to beat.

She watched her children, calm despite the dangers inherent in their homeland. The area was safe – from up in the tree, she could see beyond some of the brush, and she knew that they were not being stalked by predators or about to be discovered by vicious Alkidike bands that might hurt them. Ishida and Korin were both behaving and not getting in trouble. All was well – the children liked to play without supervision, and Hijil was happy to stay hidden in her tree, a watchful guardian, ready to swoop in and save them from danger. They came up with such interesting games - It was always nice to watch them play. It was sweet... Delightful, even.

Ah, that word, delight – such a pleasant word. So fitting, too, for what her children meant to her, her little delights. Hijil hadn't understood what 'treasure' had meant until she'd found them. No gaudy thing of jewels, no heirloom of intricate work, nothing traditionally treasure-like could ever compare to her children... except perhaps her wife, but was that not all part of the same idea? Her family was her treasure. Her love was her treasure, one that she both gave and took. It was beautiful.

She threaded beads onto silken reed-string – blue and green, just like her own necklace. They were some of the most common crystals in Jauhar, though, she had seen whites and silvers around as well. Perhaps she would make some with those colors as well for her children. Would they like reds? Purples? She could do those too. This was more traditional treasure, something tangible and sparkly, but it was, to Hijil, just a means to an end. That end was giving it to her children and watching them enjoy the gift. That end was giving Bhima a matching set of beads to commemorate their marriage – had it really been several rain seasons since they'd found each other again? For Hijil it was like a mere moment... and also an eternity, all of joy.

That end, too, was selling the beads. Of course. Selling. It was how their family got by and traded for goods. Hijil would sell her beaded accessories... When she made her way into town, that was. It was so harrowing, to leave the trees and walk – walk! - into such a populated area, seen and exposed. But, at the same time, it was needed, so she did it. Hijil knew she had to get used to it, and her children had to be used to it. They could not hide like she did – hiding was not their path... clearly not the path of Ishida, her wandering daughter.

Who was, for the time being, staying in the safe area with her brother, thank the stars.

Bead to thread, bead to thread, knot so that none would fall off, bead to thread... Life certainly went forward, didn't it, building up as inexorably as beads on a thread.

Her mother's death. Her wanderings in the jungle. Sauron teaching her how to truly fend for herself. Finding Bhima again. The battle. Their house. Their love. Their children... One after the other, beads slid onto the thread, until they made a necklace, and the pattern in the beads was revealed. Hijil's own necklace lay heavy against her skin, it's smooth crystals a reminder of all that had come before and all that could come after, if she let it.

Her children were already threading their own beads in life – who knew what patterns they would create? Hijil was sure one would form soon, but would it be the final pattern? Were these things settled in childhood, or grown through long adulthood? Was she finished with her pattern, or was it still unfurling?

Ishida and Korin were used to her hiding nearby. So used, in fact, that they knew to call for her if they wanted her... which they did, right then. Hijil knotted the thread and revealed herself from the shadows, smiling down at them benevolently as they waved. Nothing was wrong – they only wanted to see her. All was well.

Hijil tucked her beading away and moved down to a lower branch so that they could join her if they wished, up above the world, where they could see so much – the bushes, the other branches, the ocean (if they were close enough). But not their future.

Not yet.