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Childhood
Uquin was, presumably, born into a happy family in Isd. Presumably because, by the time he was old enough to remember, his father had died horribly, leaving him in the care of his mother, Iquis, and much older sister Isaya. From an early age, the boy was raised mainly by his sister, nearly fifteen years his senior, while his mother withdrew from them, becoming a silent shell of a person who spent months at a time in nearby settlements, or sleeping the hours away in their tree loft home, ignoring that she even had children in the first place.

Growing up, he knew that Iquis was his mother by birth, but he quickly came to see Isaya as his true mother, despite her actual lack of material softness. She was harsh, at times - blunt and to the point, and brutally tough with him, but she cared for him deeply and in his childhood he was well cared for. As the de facto head of the household, Isaya was often exhausted from working to support them, and so they two became incredibly close.

Isaya's selflessness and the resulting loneliness he saw in his sister instilled two very important traits in Uquin, from a young age: the desire to provide and care for those in need, so as to help lift their stress- and a detached reservation, so that his loved ones didn't worry about placing strain on him as they shared these burdens. By the time he had grown to adolescence, Uquin had taken over tending to the home, to the point of even providing support for other family of Isd by mending clothes, taking care of minor injuries, and collecting wild herbs and goods that he could trade to help support the family.

By the time Uquin was fourteen, Iquis slowly began to return back to the family. At first, Uquin was elated at the change. For the first time, his mother was eating dinners with them, not merely ignoring her children, and even showing pride and interest in his skills. For a short while, they even went about the town together, taking care of errands.

However soon, the good times ended. Iquis would often remark about how much he resembled his father, and by the time Uquin has turned fifteen he was rarely able to leave the house without his mother following him like a shadow, as if fearing he'd be snatched up right under her nose if she didn't keep a close eye on him. As time passed, her possessiveness grew, until Isaya and Iquis fought almost constantly over what was best for Uquin. Iquis forbade Isaya from coming into their family home, and Uquin was left alone with his mother for hours of the day, while Isaya hunted and stayed with her hunting friend.

Isaya insisted he become a warrior, like his father. Iquis decided that he should stay inside, where it was safe.

Ignoring any word he put in edgewise, neither woman seemed particularly impressed with his desire to become a physician.

Uquin was deeply uncomfortable with his mother's obsession, and while he never dreamed of abandoning his family normally, an incident one night made it clear that leaving was the best thing, for all of them.

In the middle of the night Uquin fled with all his tools, traveling with a group of pilgrims to settle in Yera.

Prentice: Wartime Adolescence
Chapter 4 - Arriving in Yera, the elders of the settlement allowed him to take up residence in an old, dilapidated treehouse along the outer edge of the village. It was sufficient for a young prentice, and he spent his days earning his keep by running small errands, collecting goods to mend with sewing, and trading gathered morsels for more substantial food. This was how he met Chimelu, another young prentice, as well as Yaholo, Samoset, and Kennet - who helped him feel welcome in Yera.

Despite this, Uquin felt lonesome and useless as a prentice in a new place. He longed to be recognized for his talents, and so when news of the battle in Jauhar reached Yera, he was among the volunteers eager to go to the battlefront. Specifically, he worked under Biroki and alongside another prentice, Mella, in the healer's tent. At the end of the battle, Uquin retreated carrying the wounded prentice Nuawahn on his back, and tended to him in Neued until the blonde had somewhat recovered.

His task finished, Uquin headed home - and it was traveling through a Jauhar settlement that he learned of a family struck down by a mysterious illness. Solving the mystery gave the prentice the push he needed to seek proper study, and through practicing magic and healing in the villages of Jauhar he achieved the rank of Healer.

S2 Finally Acknowledged
As a Healer, Uquin finally got a sense of the respect he had long dreamt of - but it was through this new responsibility that he came to realize how much he had yet to learn. Jauhar had given him what it could as far as learning the arts of healing - and he returned to Yera with tomes donated in hopes of learning more. On the way home, he once again ran into Mella, now an artist in her own right, and established a tentative friendship.

Back home, Uquin saved a wounded Aldabuck which soon became his companion, a loyal auburn creature he named Ishtu.

He took up study under Biroki, hoping to learn more about offensive magics.

Then, shortly after returning home, Uquin participated in a festival celebrating the return of warriors from the battle - and during this festival he got uncharacteristically drunk and met, and slept with, Pahana. It wasn't until later that they realized that Uquin knew Pahana's brother, Yaholo. As luck would have it, their night together resulted in the birth of two daughters, Padma and Ujana. Despite having children together, Uquin and Pahana decided to not pursue a romance, though they remained close together for the sake of their daughters.

While Pahana was pregnant, Uquin traveled Jauhar to learn more healing skills, and was present at the Battle of Neued, though he escaped before the settlement fell. On the way back home he ran into a traveling group and met Rilind, establishing a somewhat tentative acquaintenceship. Once back home, while working with Biroki and Ikkio to heal the refugees from Jauhar, Uquin was injured by a patient, Ruelash, and suffered a knife blow to his face and eye. Uquin and Pahana traveled with their family to the Tale Camp, and were present during the final battle against Oba, where Uquin once again ran into Mella, and began to realize he had romantic feelings for her. With the battle won, Uquin finally resolved himself to have his injured eye removed, and sought someone to craft a prosthetic for him - settling on Viveka to craft an eye-spacer out of rock and stone.

S3 - Family Life
With the girls growing every day, and the war over, Uquin returned to Yera where he became a local healer of some renown - raising a garden of herbs as best he could. Before long, however, Pahana admitted that she wanted to move closer to Andile to be with her family. With neither parent able to imagine life without their children, they finally ask the girls to choose where they would like to remain. Ujana goes with her mother, while Padma stays with Uquin. They continue to write letters to one another, and even briefly visit when time allows.

For a time, Uquin and Mella discussed traveling with one another, when Padma was older, but ultimately Uquin was too worried about taking Padma out on the road for such an extended period of time, and their hopes were dashed, any hope of a relationship between one another shattered by his inactivity.

A few years later, the Alkidike Extremists (Chapter 7) march on Sauti, and Uquin takes Padma with him to flee the march, settling in Sauti to help defend against the attacks. In the wake of the battle, Pahana and Ujana, and their Alkidike relatives in Jauhar are missing - assumed dead, and Uquin's life falls apart.

For years, Uquin kept Padma close, training her in his skills and traveling due to his work. It was over a decade later, after a festival in Oba, that Uquin once again reunited with Ujana, who had survived the extremists' attack and lived in Oba for years. She lived with him and Padma briefly in Yera, where she became pregnant with her first child, Eurig. During this time she also introduced Uquin to her Alkidike lover, Ariya, and daughter Subira. Ujana moved to Jauhar, to start a tavern with Ariya - while Padma announced her plans to leave his side and travel.

Rather than feeling sorry for himself, Uquin reveled in his daughters growing up, even if he had mixed feelings about Ujana's Alkidike family, still unable to forgive the extremists for the pain they'd caused in separating Ujana from him. Even so, he was happy for his family. For a few years, he remained in Yera, traveling between Jauhar and Sauti to continue his healing practice, and to visit his daughter and his new grandchildren, Uja and Ujiri.

Soon... with his family grown up, Uquin turned his eyes towards distant lands, intent on exploring in his 'old' age, and learning new techniques in Belrea and Yael.

prentice

[ Solo ] | "Abandoned" | (Uquin)
[ PRP ] | "Hello, Old Home" | (Yaholo/Uquin/Samoset/Kennet)
[ PRP ] | "You're a Jem...Jam?" | (Uquin/Chimelu)
[ Solo ] | "A Healer's Trade | (Uquin)
[ Meta ] | "Invasion" | (Uquin)
[ Meta ] | "Preparing for the Worst" | (Uquin)
[ PRP ] | "The Road to Recovery" | (Uquin/Nuawahn)
[ Solo ] | "Loneliness" | (Uquin)
[ Quest ] | "Healer Quest" | (Uquin)

healer
[ PRP ] | "Healer's view, Painters view" | (Uquin/Mella)
[ Solo ] | "An Exception" (Uquin)
[ PRP ] | "Festival Frolics" (Uquin/Pahana)
[ PRP ] | "Why I Dont Drink" (Uquin/Pahana)
[ Solo ] | "The Battle of Neued" (Uquin)
[ PRP ] | "Another Lost Battle" (Uquin/Rilind)
[ Meta ] | "Alliance: Tale Camp" | (Uquin)
[ Solo ] | "Half Sight" | (Uquin)
[ PRP ] | "I really like this" | (Uquin/Mella)
[ Battle ] | "Takoda vs Uquin" - Finished
[ Battle ] | "Biroki vs Uquin" - Finished

monk
[PRP] "Little Miscreant" | (Ujana)
[Solo] | "Lost Letters" | (Uquin)
[Event] | "Remembering the Past"
[Solo] | "Alike"
[PRP] "Faces" | ( Ujana)
[PRP] "Airbound" | (Maritza)
[PRP] "Skylines" | (Maritza)
[PRP] "Teatime" | (Maritza)
[PRP] "Three Strikes" | (Maritza)
[Solo] "Life Moves On"
[Adventure] Sticky Fingers
[PRP] "Sharing Firsts" | (Maritza)
[Growth Solo] "Stage 3 to 4"

soul linker
[PRP] Setting the Rules | Isaia
[PRP] "Beach Day" | Maritza, Uquin, Isaia, Ujana, Zadia
[PRP] | All This Time | Maritza
[PRP] | True Kinda Love | Maritza
[PRP] | Rite of Passage | Maritza
[PRP] | Grumps | Ujiri
[PRP] | Building Memories | Ujana Eujanie Ika
[PRP] | Stay Strong | Lioe
[PRP] | Search | Zadia
[PRP] | For Better | Maritza
[PRP] | Proper Reunions | Vaani Isaia Zadia

legendary
https://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=25668912
https://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?page=1&t=25637868

Prentice | Stage 2 | Stage 3

Monk

Uquin woke with a start to the sound of padding footsteps, the crinkle of grass underfoot loud in the quiet of night, somehow, despite the croak and chirps of thick forest life. His eyes snapped open, and as he shot to sit up he realized he was soaked with sweat, despite the chill of the nighttime air. He had no supplies to speak of, so he had conceded to sleeping uncovered, unlike the other members of the caravan who slept covered in thick blankets, nestled together like anyone would expect family to. Well, most people.

Still shuddering from his sudden return to consciousness, Uquin turned his head towards the source of the noise and found it was only a mother leading her youngling away from camp to make water, her hand holding a pudgy arm in a gentle touch. His eyes followed them as they stepped into the foliage, and he only relaxed once they left his eyesight, letting out a tense breath and leaning back once again against the hard pack he had been given as a makeshift support, his arms settling around him, the sweat at his brow chilling in the nighttime air, leaving him shivering for a different reason than before.

A nightmare? He couldn’t remember the particulars of it, but the pounding of his pulse in his ears, and the general shakes of his body made it clear this was the case. He never used to have nightmares… no, compared to other horrors he had heard about, he had no just cause to have them. Disgusted with his weakness, Uquin peeked across the camp, taking in the shapes of his sleeping saviours - saviours whom he was coming to trust more and more, and even had started to become fond of. Most of them were Taleans, not unlike himself, a group that had come to his small home in Isd often and whose faces he was somewhat familiar with. They weren’t traders, in the normal sense, but they were pilgrims - people who traveled the lengths of Tale, inspired in ‘philosophy’ by the Wind Earthlings - family of ‘kooks’ as his sister had often hissed derisively.

He’d grown up being told stories of this group. In his home… OLD home, that is, there were stories told to the children of how one wicked Talean had a bride who was incredibly foolish, and how he had fooled her into allowing him a second wife, then a third, when he created some cult based off the family units of the people of Sauti. All his life he’d come to see this group, who came to Isd with trinkets and smiles, as some terrifying cult that would steal children into the night and turn them into wives and pack mules.

This was why he’d chosen this caravan - chosen this group that his hometown found so strange as his salvation. No one would expect him to willingly leave with them. And it had been difficult convincing them, a young prentice in the dead of night trying to steal away with them, to let him tag along. They weren’t offering him a family - nor were they offering to let him join them for a long while, but in the few weeks he’d been traveling with them, as they moved from Isd south to Vers, and eventually back to the north and west towards Yera he had come to almost regret vowing he wouldn’t try and join their family.

These people were kind - much kinder than the superstitious and suspicious people he had left in Isd. Part of their philosophy, ‘kooky’ though it was, was that family and friends were the most important units in one’s life. During the days, as Uquin walked along with them, he watched the children play and the women sew as they walked. They knew the best path between the settlements, and yet casually veered from it - knowing where small pockets of foods were, and just when to happen upon them so they would be found in bloom. Along the road they would bump into other travelers and traders, and would collect foreign knick knacks - some of which they freely gave to Uquin. Handfuls of Sauti nuts, traded meat and bulbs. They would laugh as they walked, and whenever a problem hit a head the people worked together to solve it.

It felt much more like home than Uquin had felt in his previous years of living - and even if none of these people allowed themselves to get close, since he wasn’t a permanent member of their group, they still treated him kindly. One elderly woman would even stroke his hair back and tie it so the long, auburn strands didn’t dirty with sweat as they traveled. She would then give him a somewhat toothless smile and pat the top of his head. And it warmed him.

And yet at night he was alone again, and under the stars he realized how truly tired he was. ‘Once I’m in Yera, it will be better.’ Uquin told himself, pressing a hand against his chest and feeling as his skittering heart finally calmed, the pounding of his pulse finally lifting from his ears. And yet everywhere he looked, in the dark, he thought he saw movement - shapes. Closing his eyes tightly, to force away the images, Uquin shuffled down to sleep again, wishing he wasn’t so scared. Now, at this moment, he yearned for the wrinkled touch of the old woman, or even a small hand curled on his own - something to tell him he wasn’t so completely and utterly alone. And in the dead of night, as he forced himself to drift back off, he almost believed the lies he told himself, that come morning someone, anyone, would look upon him as worth something - as family. And with one hand curled awkwardly in the grip of the other, pretending to be the hand of someone else, Uquin almost believed himself.

Almost.




The people of Yera had gathered at the base of their trees, where the market was usually erected, their voices a loud hum in the afternoon air. Stalls had been closed, goods were being carried out and set in a growing pile in the center of the main road, and somewhere in the crowd Uquin could hear a child sniffling and crying, followed by the cajoling, but somewhat pained laugh of what must have been the child’s father. Word had come in the early morning, while the majority of the residents still slept - but the merchants, who set up market once a week and had been awake early to move their products down to their stalls, had met the messenger. A Shifter, shaking and covered in sweat from running, had stumbled into the town, drinking water gratefully from an offered skin, telling the assembled townspeople his message.

Oba was coming. They would meet at the Fairgrounds - the place which, only months before, had been a joyous place, where the people had first learned of the Oban-threat. Uquin knew little of the actual event - but he had heard whispers, words of general unease about the strange people even before his journey to Yera. Even now, as he helped carry what supplies could be spared to the middle of town, Uquin felt numb. War. People would fight - people would die. He took a furtive glance into the many faces around him - none of which were especially dear to him, but all familiar, faces he recognized, and had experiences with.

His hands slowly pulled away from the pack - which he had settled down, his eyes ducking to look at it. It was a large bag - filled with herbs, many of which he recognized. Had used. He didn’t know magic yet - he had little experience in it. Where other prentices would have found someone to teach them a trade, Uquin didn’t have such a luxury - there were healers here, yes, but he lived alone and no one in Yera was about to give him charity. That they’d already allowed him to stay in a run-down, but well-secured house in one of the trees meant enough. If he wanted to eat, he needed to get it himself.

And yet all his life he had wanted this - to become a healer, to be able to see someone ailing and help them. Uquin could have been of some USE in this war, but instead his own selfishness had denied someone the chance to live.

Uquin’s brow furrowed and he shook his head, so minutely that he barely noticed he had done it. Standing, he stepped back, away from the pile, his arms bracing across his chest, half-holding himself, even if the poise was usually one of strength - he felt weak.

No. If he had stayed home, he would be no closer to being a healer. In his mind’s eye he could imagine it. He could almost feel the leather hilt of a sword pressed into his hands, clumsy and unusual - could feel his sister’s bright eyes on his face, ‘We are WARRIORS - we will fight to defend our home. You are no coward mage, Uquin, you fight with your hands.’ He could imagine her touch, as she curled his fingers around the hilt, the sword heavy in his grip.

On the other side, he knew he’d never have gone to war if he remained at home. That sword may have been placed in his hand, but his mother would have gripped his wrist - he could almost feel her sharp nails digging into his wrist, wresting the sword from his hand, then gripping his face and hair, tugging him close so he couldn’t move. ‘You’ll stay with me forever.’ Mother would whisper, her voice quavering with madness. She’d rather slit his throat than let him leave for war - he had no proof of this, but he knew it. He knew her.

‘Then this is it? I am doomed to uselessness, to sit and watch people die?’ He thought, and for a moment he felt weighed down by utter helplessness.

No, not useless. Never useless. His hands dropped, clenching at his sides, and Uquin raised his chin, staring ahead. 'I don’t know magic. I never learned or studied, but that is a lost cause now - I can’t moan about what may have been. I’m alive, and that is what is important.’

But his other skills were better than most. Back home, before he left, he had singlehandedly saved the life of a man who had been hunted down by a pack of Witu. How many babies had been born in Isd thanks to his hands? He had set broken bones with ease, had correctly pinpointed the poison a man suffered from, and saved him properly. His failures were his own to carry - one day, he would have magic and could help everyone, even those untouched by herbs or a firm, sure hand.

Uquin may not be a healer yet, but he had the soul of one - he WOULD be a healer. And not one that relied on magic - one who knew when it was needed, but could set bones naturally, could help the bleeding and sick. In the future there would be a day when he knew that a person who died only did so because every other alternative had been tried - not because they’d been left to their pain. Even Uquin could have a use.

Around him, warriors who had decided long ago that they would leave for war were breaking away from their families, moving to pick up the assembled supplies - the fighters were moving out. Uquin had no one to say farewell to - no parting kisses to give. And yet, for once in his life, Uquin didn’t care - because he felt pride in himself when he stepped forward and picked up the bag of herbs, settling them against his shoulder and raising his eyes. He was going to war. He may not come back. Death may win, against his patients … or ultimately against him. But Uquin would know it had been fought, tooth and nail, every step of the way.

And that was what being a Healer meant.

Someday, Uquin would stop being surprised at finding himself back in Jauhar during his wonderings. Life, back home, was getting... chaotic, and he had felt something in him long for travel. He was sure that disappearing in the middle of the night was unlikely to win him any points with Pahana, whom he was... what... wooing? He didn't even know, himself, what his relationship with the woman was becoming.

But he needed to move - and for him Jauhar was the best place to go, to feel useful. It was where he had learned his art, and so he hoped that he could offer some help there. He hadn't expected his thoughts to be that accurate.

With Ishtu's pack filled with supplies and bandages, Uquin neared the town of Neued, blinking in surprise as it appeared swollen with people, despite the apparent destruction around the struggling settlement. Charred wood was scattered throughout the jungle, as if there was fear of the hunks of charcoal lifting and reassembling itself - and in the town he saw the ruined remains of buildings, hollow eyes, and exhausted faces.

"I had thought most would have left after the previous battle." Uquin questioned a wind tribesman, who held a spear and stared outside the borders of the town as if suspicious. "They did! But... but the Obans are moving. They've come closer and closer to Neued recently, and... they fear an attack soon enough."

"An attack?" Uquin responded, aghast. He... he thought maybe sickness, injuries - but another battle? The first had been chaotic, and they'd had... the strength of Tendaji behind them. A simple glance around the settlement revealed a hearty contingent of defenders, but nowhere near their previous numbers. Most had retreated to their homelands, no doubt hoping the invasion would stop in Jauhar. He could see that fear in the faces of the shifters that stood, tense and nervous, at the bases of their trees, chattering with the outsiders who had assembled.

Neued was along the borders of Oba and Jauhar. It had taken months for the Obans to advance this far - and surely they would push further into Jauhar first. What would happen if Jauhar was taken? Maybe they'd take the Alkidike homeland, or... or they'd head east, to Tale. To Yera. This battle, defending Neued, it was pointless - Pahana was at home, with the risk of pregnancy, and here he was stretching his neck, for what? What if he fell here, at this battle, and the rest of Tendaji gathered their forces after Neued into a true battle, and he had fallen HERE at this battle, which was sure to be a massacre if Oba had any intentions of killing. And why wouldn't they, right?

His eyes turned back into the jungle, and he could've sworn the wind boy was watching him, eyes hopeless and defeated. And yet Uquin didn't, no... couldn't move.

He was frozen in his place, Uquin couldn't imagine turning around and leaving - fleeing back to Yera. The idea made him feel murderous at himself for even considering it. No - he had to stay here, had to, and if he didn't he'd never let himself live it down. So he heaved a deep sigh, then looked up at the wind tribesman. "Where can a Healer set up?"




Uquin didn't consider himself a vain person. He could count the times, on one hand, that he had gazed into a clear surface and recognized the face there, beyond the general hairstyle he chose to adopt. It didn't matter to him if his face was scarred, plain, chiseled, grizzled, or babyfaced - what mattered was that he could work at his best. That was why, he told himself, the loss of his eye had hit him more than he would have expected. During the course of the war, he could distract himself from the wound - saying that it wasn't festering, that infection could be kept at bay as he worked, but the war ended. The Obans had retreated to the newly proposed outpost at the border of Jauhar... and the fresh faces of Matori pilgrims, coming to see where their freedom had been won, could only distract him for so long.

He had his eye removed on something of a whim one day, as he sat in the tent where, once, there had been a throng of injured Obans to tend to. An empty tent where he and two other healers sat, tapping their fingertips against their laps. "Welp..." An older healer sighed, smacking his hand against his thigh before pushing himself to stand with a grunt of exertion, cracking his knuckles and turning to Uquin. "It's about time to change the compress on that eye." Tugging the bandages off, the older man's lips pressed firmly into a grim expression, but Uq knew he wouldn't press - wouldn't insist on the eye coming out. Uquin had refused each time it was offered. But this time, he took a deep breath and gestured, roughly, towards his face with one hand. "If there's nothing better for you to do, I suppose you could..."

A look of relief was tossed his way, and suddenly the bored healers went to work - crushing dried roots and reducing them into a water concoction, resulting in a milky white consistency. A kinfa bone, the marrow long scraped away, was held with a finger pressed against the opening as the mixture was carefully poured inside, and Uquin was made to lean back, his wounded eye held open by his fingers as the milky substance dropped from the end of the bone into his eye. It's purpose was simple - to deaden it as best they could. Even that, he feared, wouldn't be quite enough, and admitting his concerns won him a handful of wet, waxy plants, which he chewed and chewed until... he was reduced to a loopy, forgetful mess. He probably screamed at one point, but if he did he couldn't remember it... all Uquin knew was that the next morning he awoke with less pain than he’d felt in weeks, but a strange soreness instead. Rolling to his side, Uquin cracked open his eye (the other was wrapped with a compress and bandage), and saw, infront of him, his reflection in a small square left on the ground of the hut, propped up against a small satchel.

The mirror was an import from Oba - pressurized sand fired by mages and ground by workmen (or slaves...?) until smooth and contoured in just a way that a reflection was sent back at him, to look. It was a strange thing, but something the healers had found a use for - catching difficult angles while attending their duties. And in that reflection Uquin saw a man, thin, his hair messily splayed across his face, chin and cheeks grown with auburn fuzz from a few days of hard work and no time for hygiene. Drawing his hand with a wince across his rough cheeks, Uquin sat up, hesitated, then leaned to reach for the mirror - ignoring the sense of vertigo that slammed him in the belly as he did so.

He'd tied such compresses on wounds before, but doing from this angle, on himself, had been strange at first. By now he was more used to it. As the bandage was drawn away this time, however, he didn't see the bloody cut he'd become used to. It was gone - just as he knew it would be, and yet seeing it still forced a shaking breath from his lungs. The socket was now hollow, somewhat swollen from the intrusion, but not as badly as it could have been - thanks to a small amount of lightning magic that was sometimes used to promote circulation.

And yet, what didn't come was the spark of misery he'd almost feared. Would he be the one that cried at realizing a limb was missing, he had wondered in the past, the one hit by the realization only when the limb is gone, and ghost vision or pains haunt you?

Apparently not. Instead, he almost felt a sense of wonder - leaning in towards the mirror and drawing his hand carefully against his eyelid. The result was soreness, but nothing like the agony of keeping the eye all this time. The thought brought a smile of triumph to his face; having confirmation that removing the damaged piece was better, overall, was a relief given the amount of wounded pieces he'd had to liberate from people the past few months. During the battle, he'd gotten embarassed by his injury - he'd been primping. In retrospect, Uquin realized, he hadn't quite minded other than the sentimental thoughts towards his daughters, until he'd run into Mella. The moment he saw her, he'd felt shamed by his injury, a reluctance to show her the results or speak overly about it. How she'd inadvertently elicited such vain thoughts in him he didn't know, but now ... he felt amused by his behavior. Once he'd finally settled on WHY he reacted to her the way he did... it was easier to understand. And easier to wave his actions off as a lovestruck fool.

A prosthetic, at least. He decided, tying the compress bandage over his eye once more.

If there was anything that Uquin had learned from his family’s sordid history, it was that sometimes … you just had to let go. It had been what drove him away from his own mother, so many years ago - what had driven Ujana to stay in Oba with her adopted family out of fear of his reaction to her, what had kept Padma unhappily chained to his side for most of her life. Maybe, in many ways, his and Maritza’s ending had been a foregone conclusion, one he saw in the sharp flash of her beautiful violet eyes the moment he revealed he had been dosing her with contraceptive tea all those months ago without her knowledge. Whatever grace had allowed her to look at the skinny old man in her bunk and see someone worth her time and affection had begun to wane, even then… and time had only whittled that impression down until all she saw was … well. Him.

If she was here, Ujana might call him out on his train of thought - might roll her eyes, a hand on her hip (just like her mother) as she told him to stop throwing himself a pity party, but it was true.

Away from her work, Maritza was like a confined sermal, pacing along the confines of its cage - eyes dulling without mental stimulation, brimming with feral, powerful energy and danger that Uquin feared would lash out at anyone, including herself. Whatever amusement she had once gained from him was gone, and any solace he’d afforded her in the past quickly faded.

The first few months, Uquin sought to keep Maritza’s keen mind active in what ways he could. He was no mechanic or engineer, but once she had asked him to teach her about healing… and so when he came back from his classes, exhausted though he often was, he would offer to talk to her about what he had learned. She agreed… At first- but before long a sour, dark look would flash in her eyes, and Uquin realized how cruel it must be to rub in her face how his own life was continuing as normal, despite how drastically everything had changed for her. He continued his studies, but he stopped offering to teach her.

Spirits, but she was a sight… She was always skinny, and she ate as much as could be expected, but even then pregnancy took its toll on her - he rubbed salves on her belly to try and ease the pain of it stretching, and rubbed her legs and back whenever she complained, but little seemed to abate her discomfort. And at night, when her body radiated heat because of her condition, he obediently gave her space, only leaving on a hand lightly resting on the nape of her neck as he slept to hopefully remind her she wasn’t alone.

He was no mind healer, but Uquin felt it was impossible to miss the complicated feelings she had about the pregnancy.

He had memories of Pahana, hand fondly cradling her belly as sun spilled over her glowing skin, smiling as she told stories of places she would take her children, people she couldn’t wait for them to meet. She told them stories, sang them songs, and when Uquin told her condescendingly one day that the babes wouldn’t be able to hear her, she’d rolled her eyes and nudged him with her foot, and said ‘No, but they’ll know my voice, at least!’

Uquin didn’t know if he ever saw Maritza talk about the children, during her pregnancy. And… when she described her condition, the words she used to describe herself were often … cruel, uncomfortable words. That her stomach was ‘bloated’, distended, swollen. He could only assume it was because of how sick and terrible she felt - it was a hard pregnancy after all, he knew that, and yet he could only feel more guilty when such memories and comparisons to Pahana entered his head. Maybe Maritza knew. Sometimes, he could see this look in her eyes, as if measuring his worth, measuring whether or not she truly needed him anymore. The first night he tried to rest his hand on her neck again and she shrugged him off, he silently rolled to face the other direction, and tried to take what comfort he could from the heat seeping into his back. Because that was just it, wasn’t it? He was the one stealing comfort from her - Maritza had never gained a thing from this relationship - nothing but a painful pregnancy, the loss of her work, and the presence of an older man who, if her brother was to be believed, would have lost his novelty soon enough anyway. Being able to soothe her when she cried, the day she’d found out about her pregnancy, had been a fluke - perhaps anyone would have been able to comfort her then. But now?

Now, he could almost see the flash of disdain any time she saw him, the set of her jaw, the tension in her already painfully tight shoulders.

And then the babies came. And Maritza…

Gods, she almost died didn’t she? There was so much blood - more than he was even used to, and was it because she was his-- because the babies were-- ? Was that why he was panicking? Suddenly, he was painfully thankful he wasn’t the healer handling her birth, that he was here as the father and … and… whatever he was to Maritza, now. And spirits but she looked so pale she was almost grey, in those first few hours, and when he carefully touched her cheek and forehead she was clammy and cool to the touch, her lips so pale they looked like wax, and if she was awake she’d never have let him touch her like this, and if he cried none of the healers seemed to care. The babies definitely didn’t.

Their children were beautiful, painful mixes of the two of them. Their daughter had his hair and Maritza’s gorgeous eyes, and Isaia had stolen an eye from the both of them, but Lioe ...had his eyes, but Maritza’s forehead crystals. Uquin held Maritza’s slack hand so tight as he kissed his son’s forehead, eyes tightly closed.

… Hours later, when Maritza awoke, Uquin watched as she met their children for the first time. She was hurting so badly, anyone with eyes could see it, but Uquin couldn’t help her - no matter what he tried, he only seemed to make it worse. And… he wasn’t perfect - after the first time he’d found Maritza ‘checked out’ while Zadia lay, red faced and bawling, in her little bed, potentially ignored, he had yelled right back at her - said words he shouldn’t have.

‘What is wrong with you?’

Two weeks after nearly losing her the first time, she ended it. She ended it and, guiltily, Uquin thought briefly of Pahana. He and Pahana had never been lovers, not really… they’d slept together the night of a drunken festival, and remained friends after. Splitting apart after the birth had been simple, painless.

It wasn’t the same, with Maritza.

Uquin let her say her piece, his own temper rising with every accusation, every barbed comment and word.

Oh, congratulations, would you like a medal for letting me see our children?

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Thank you, for that reminder, as if I didn’t realize our relationship was temporary before, thanks so much.

Given up because of me? Last I checked, we were both there when this happened, it isn’t *all* my fault--

‘I shouldn’t have to settle for less than happiness in any way.’

… That… was true. Any anger inside Uquin leaked out, and as they stared at one another, he was overcome with the strong, painful urge to hold her face like he used to, to kiss her eyelids and forehead crystals and murmur that this could work, that it would get better, that this depression would lift and she would smile again and it would be okay-

But instead, he tried to remember his own history, and he… let go. Uquin merely nodded and gathered his things, pausing to stoop down to kiss each little infant’s face instead, gently telling them he would see them soon (just to hear the sound of his voice, you know they don’t understand you-).

When, a week later, Maritza first saw him stepping out of an apartment a flight down, her cheeks went so red he almost expected them to scream at one another all over again.

But… after that last fight, life… moved on.

After the birth of their children, Uquin had to make a choice. Continuing to study in Belrea was… almost a lost cause, unless he fully gave up on supporting his children (and Maritza, since she still couldn’t work and Rivyn couldn’t support four extra mouths alone) - which he could never do. … He could return to Tendaji, and send coin back… but that would mean giving up having an actual presence in their lives until they were older. Alternatively, he could convince Maritza to let him take them to Tendaji - which somehow he couldn’t fathom asking, not now.

"You're not leaving, right? You said you wouldn't."

Uquin didn’t have the experience to be a healer, not here in this land with advanced mechanics and medicines. … But he had the temperament and enough practical training and experience to be an assistant. It was… embarrassing, to be in the same position he had been when he was 17 working in tents on the Oban war - holding patients down, setting limbs, listening to a healer half his age handle patients. But each week he received enough pay to make the sting a bit less, and when he went home and could bring his little ones home, and see bits of Maritza in his childrens’ faces, it didn’t hurt so much.