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 Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 6:57 pm
*~Friendship's Feathers: Tuaria~*
Name: Tuaria
Nickname: None.
Gender: Female
Tribe: Harpy
Age: Egg
Personality: -
Likes: -
Dislikes: -
Crushes: -
Dreams: -
Other: Harpy who lives in the Harpy city, mostly isolated from other taur. Won in an rp contest, in which her story was told. Met Lyco, Fritzi, and Iryl in the incident. Name means 'young eagle', and though most harpies don't go by names, was called Tuaria by her mother, and now the other taur.
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Posted: Wed Aug 23, 2006 7:21 pm
*~Tuaria's Story~* Tymiko the Pirate Girl Gaia Name: Tymiko the Pirate Girl
Harpy #:4
Prompt: D- You are being trained in the use of herbs. One day while alone in the forest collecting herbs you come across a land going taur doing the same. Do you run/hide/talk? What happens next?
Entry: A brilliant streak of light sailed across the night sky. It was a falling star, I realized, though too late to make a wish. Not that it mattered; I was content. I couldn't have thought of a good wish if I had a week.
Well...maybe to make a few friends. I was okay on my own, but some company every now and then would have been nice. It wasn't as if I kept myself isolated from the others in our flock; in fact, I attempted to socialize so often that I think the others tired of me. I really didn't mean to be obnoxious, but I seemed to have this extra energy that kept me going long after the others decided to settle down. On flights, they'd tell me I was always too far ahead, and in conversations I was constantly chastised to slow down or repeat something. When being spoken to, I couldn't ever keep still. It could be quite a hassle to communicate over a simple topic.
In the end, I always wondered if I was meant to live life alone. However, I never liked the sound of it and the thought always dampened my spirits for the rest of the day. I remained with my flock because I couldn't stand the idea of no one around. It was too lonely!
That night was a special night for me. Special, but not very entertaining. Since I was the apprentice of our flock's healer, it was my task that evening to go into the woods, away from the safety of our city, and collect the herbs necessary to help cure excessive feather molting. There were three problems I had with this: one being that I had never been so far from the city in my life, two - the fact that most of the plants I sought grew on the ground where I always felt uneasy, and three - that I was to complete the task without any help from fellow harpies. It was going to be a very long, difficult night, though special nonetheless, as long as I didn’t come back in failure.
To prove myself, I was required to work alone, and I could not enter the city at any time for anything. This rule in particular troubled me as I felt exiled by it. What had I done to deserve being thrown out? I had plenty of energy since I had slept the whole day in preparation, but it didn’t matter. All the energy in the world couldn’t have helped me with my misson. The vegetation I sought was best gathered at night under the full moon. It was a wonder I saw any stars at all with its light casting everything in such an eerie, bluish glow. I could hardly tell my own golden feathers apart from the leafy green ferns I crash-landed into.
Peering into the darkness, I could see a shaft of moonbeam through the trees just ahead. It was more or less where I had intended to land. Just beyond was a meadow clearing through which flowed a little brook. After taking a moment to gather my courage, I awkwardly hopped through the dense underbrush, hoping for the first time since I set out that I was truly alone. And yet, despite my hopes, I could practically feel the presence of strangers. Though I frequently glanced about, nothing peculiar came to my attention as I entered the clearing and approached the brook.
At last I managed to rid myself of my suspicions and turned to the task at hand. After a few minutes of searching through the moonlit meadow, I finally spotted what I had come for. On the banks of the brook, at the crest of the tallest hill, grew the smallest patch of wild thyme. It was a meager supply, but it would be more than enough. I bent to gather a few sprigs with some difficulty. Harpy hands with their sharp talons were never particularly made to collect vegetation, and my wings kept brushing against the ground.
Normally I wouldn’t have minded so much, but with water so close I could hear it gurgling and bubbling downhill, I feared my feathers would be drenched. Wet wings were the last thing I needed at the moment. With all the crawling, dragging, and hopping I had done that evening, it was no wonder my feathers felt heavy with the dust and dirt weighing them down. Still, dirt was still lighter than water, and soaked feathers was something I could not afford at the moment. I was ready to be out of there as fast as I could, and with water weighing me down, I’d have no chance of escape. I wasn’t even a very good hopper.
“Got it!” I whispered proudly to myself, holding up the thyme in triumph. Now all I needed was dandelion and then I – what was that?! In sudden terror, I froze. A strange metallic sound rang in my ears, though much more musical and softer than the metallic clicking of talons. I hadn’t even heard the faintest rustle of feathers. Whatever it was wasn’t one of my own kind. Deciding I had imagined it, I slowly, cautiously turned around. The sight that met my eyes made my jaw drop in shock and my knees suddenly collapse. I fell reeling backward, tumbling into the little brook. I took little notice, even as tiny droplets splashed upon my face. Crawling out of the water, I absently ‘hop-fluttered’ down toward the strange figures. My night vision could not be trusted. I had to know for sure what the creatures were, but I was not so bold as to step right into their path. One was definitely a lot bigger than me, perhaps even than a full grown harpy. No, I wanted to observe them secretly, and as they seemed to be headed toward the brook, the other side seemed just the place to watch.
Where they were headed was quite farther down the hill from where I had found the thyme, down into the heart of the meadow where a small circular pool formed. It almost perfectly contained the full moon within its boundaries. I did not wonder at not having noticed it before; the grass and flowers surrounding it grew in such abundance that it was well hidden and almost invisible from the sky. I approached the pool from the opposite bank, lying very still among the tall grass. A few of the blades were yellowing, matching the golden feathers that shrouded me and kept me warm. Gently pulling them back, I managed to get a considerably good view of the opposite bank.
They were there; three of them. One, the largest, was a male with four legs. He was amazingly dull-colored for a male, I thought, though he had a rather thick, silky coat and might have been attractive by his races’ standards. However, his cleft feet, dainty as they were, and branch-like appendages protruding from his long, pale hair made him appear ferociously monstrous, even when he kneeled. Something much more brightly colored caught my eye and I tore my gaze from him to the thing in his arms. As he cradled it so delicately above the water’s surface, I came to realize it was a sleeping, six-limbed creature like himself, only this one a female infant and without such branches growing out of her small head. My confusion increased as I watched the bizarre ritual. Was the monster going to drown the baby?
Just then, a quiet, fearful voice whispered uncomfortably, “Fritzi…Fritzi, did we have to come to this pond? I could have just gotten some water from the lake or something…” His words seemed to tremble. “I don’t like being in the meadow at night. It’s too open…someone could find us!”
As frightened as I was of the trio, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the quaking chick standing beside the tall, towering, tree monster. The chick looked nothing like him; they couldn’t have been related. Instead of cleft feet, he had hard, solid, sturdy ones. Not even twigs looked as if they could grow from his hair. This young male’s coat was much more dazzling, even in the vague light shed by the moon and stars. It was exotically striped with a blue gradient against jet black. His hair and tail, similarly colored, were bright blue at the roots blending to black at the tips. His bare skin was tan, like the older male’s, but more of a caramel complexion than of mocha. A magnificent harpy male he would have made indeed if only he were older. He couldn’t be very much older than I was, but watching him stand there shivering with fear made him seem a great deal younger; a terrified hatchling.
With half a mind to step out and comfort him, I silently reminded myself of my task. It did not involve four-leggeds in the least. And yet…as I looked back, the face of the eldest was illuminated as he sat up. If he wasn’t gazing so worriedly at the baby in his arms, he might have caught me gawking at him. His amber eyes were fixed upon the infant, and yet I could see the gentle features of his face. They suggested a shy, joyful nature, beneath the sorrow and concern. What shocked me was that those very signs of worry were familiar; mother-like even. They showed on harpy mothers as their chicks shivered with cold from lack of feathers, or when they feared the worst. It was obvious the tree-beast’s thoughts at the moment were alike.
“Don’t worry, Lyco. You should go back to the others. I’ll need you to watch them. I’m going to have to stay here and take care of Iryl for the night. She doesn’t look so good.”
“But Fritzi!” The young one pleaded, tugging on Fritzi’s arm, “They can take care of themselves. Matteo knows what to do, Wasibru can shoot arrows, and Leila’s got all the weapons she needs. That new girl’s fine with them all to protect her. Besides, we have to stick together!” Lyco’s voice grew insistent. “I’m not leaving you here.”
Fritzi smiled sadly at the child’s concern. “Lycoris, I assure you, I am quite capable of defending myself, as well as little Iryl. We’ll be fine for one night. Just because you’ve never seen me use these,” he said, gesturing at his sharp-looking antlers, “doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“No,” Lyco muttered in annoyance, though it was now clear he was scared for Iryl and Fritzi rather than himself. “Only that you won’t. We know you too well, Fritzi. You’d never even willingly scratch someone with those branch things, even if they were ready to kill you.”
All at once, I was overwhelmed with guilt. How could I have ever thought any of them to be the least bit malicious? Now that I wondered at it, they were nothing to be feared. Hadn’t I unconsciously discovered just how similar they were to harpies, despite their appearances? Sure, they might have had four legs…no feathers, which probably meant they couldn’t fly. All the more reason to pity them, I thought. But pity wouldn’t save the infant. She did seem to have a fever, and despite the elder taur’s soaked leaf lying across her forehead, possibly to cool her down, I knew I had to do something.
Before I could give it a second thought, I hopped out of the grass and waved a dripping wing at them. “Hello! I uh…oh – whoa!” Unfortunately, my wing was heavier than I had expected, and as I raised it to wave, I lost balance and tumbled into the pond. At least I should have, but from out of nowhere, a large, gentle hand caught me just in time. Looking up, I grinned sheepishly at the one called Fritzi. “Heh…thanks.”
Despite his weary expression, he smiled warmly at me, amber eyes twinkling. “Not a problem. I thought since you’re already drenched, you didn’t need any more of that water soaking your lovely feathers.” There was a hint of curiosity behind his playful wink, and I knew though he seemed too polite to ask, he wanted to know where I had come from. What I was doing here. What I was. I couldn’t blame him; the last was a question I wanted to ask him myself. “It’s quite a breezy night. You must be freezing.”
As I took in his kind words, I suddenly realized he was right. The full impact hit me at once: I was cold, wet, and worst of all, grounded. I’d never be able to get back to the mountains now! “Uh…um, I-It’s not that c-cold out…” I mumbled, but the look on my face must have betrayed me. The four-legged stood back and regarded me in a sympathetic manner with his head tilted and a small frown. It was then I remembered the little male with him and glanced down. He clung timidly to the elder’s leg, peeking at me with bright blue eyes. I could tell he was reluctant to have anything to do with me. In an effort to console him, I smiled and chirped a small greeting. It was easier than trying to wave.
Soon enough, a gust of wind blew past and I could no longer hide my shivering. Water dripped endlessly from my wings and I flapped them in an effort to dry off faster. It only served to make me colder, and I began to quiver more violently.
“Young one, we really should get you out of this cold. The wind seems to be picking up; it could be a storm,” The adult suggested, his rich voice deep with worry. He hugged the bundle in his arms closer to his chest. “Perhaps we should all find shelter. There’s a cave Lycoris and I share with a few other taur children. You’re welcome to stay the night.”
The whole night?! I didn’t have all night! And if a storm was approaching, I’d have to hurry and get back home before it hit. I began to panic, thinking of the pack of herbs strapped to my back.
“Th-thank you sir, b-but I really can’t s-stay.” I managed. “I-I have s-something important t-to do before sunrise.” The gusts grew stronger. I feared if it kept up, my feathers would not only be dry; they’d be blown right off. I drew my wings as close to my body as I could and crouched, trying to keep warm. “I-I’m looking for something. It’s v-very important. What are you…” I paused, deciding it would be rude to ask outright what they were. It was said some ‘taur’ offended easily, and I remembered the term ‘taur’ referred to the four-leggeds as soon as Fritzi had mentioned it. I also remembered something about many species of taur, but I couldn’t recall what they were, and was tempted to ask. I had only been a chick when my mother told me the stories and had never realized they might have been true. “Err…what…what are you two doing out so late? Not that it’s any of my business, but…” Fritzi and Lycoris exchanged glances before looking back at me.
“I’m Lycoris,” the striped taur spoke, finally over his fear. “And this is Fritzi. What’s so important you have to freeze to death for?”
“Now now, Lyco,” Fritzi chided lightly. “We all have our reasons for doing things. Forgive me for not introducing us earlier, miss. Indeed, it may have been unwise of us to venture out to the meadow this night, but our need was great. Iryl here has been quite ill since yesterday, and I haven’t been able to do any good. She says her tummy hurts, and so leading us to believe it was something she ate. I thought a drink of water might have helped her a bit.” The tall taur got to his hooves and rose to stand. He stared down at Iryl in his arms who was sleeping fitfully and continuously squirming. Fritzi rocked her gently, hushing and whispering low, quiet words into her ears, hoping to calm her nightmares.
Momentarily I forgot my own frozen, stiff body. At least I might have been some use; if not to myself, then to the infant. “I might be able to help her,” I told them, “But it looks like she’s got a fever. We’d better hurry, or she won’t last the storm. It’s almost here, and I don’t think we’ll be able to get to your cave before then.”
Fritzi looked up in surprise. “You can?”
Lycoris, on the other hand, stared me straight in the eyes. “What is it you need?” he asked seriously. “I can help you look for it if you can save Iryl.” It was clear he cared for the child as if she were his sister. If he lacked in courage, he made up for it in will. His determination won me over; all doubts of never revealing harpy herb secrets vanished. I was sure I could trust these new friends.
“Alright.” I settled myself onto the ground, set down my pack, and rummaged through it. It was a good thing I had brought along more than enough of each herb; I had plenty to spare. “Ch-chamomile can help bring down her f-fever,” I said, briskly crushing some dried, white-petaled flowers with a mortar into a little bowl I had brought with me. It wasn’t as good as the ones back home, but I was still an amateur. It would have to do. “And t-then dandelions will settle her upset stomach…” I stopped. Dandelions were the last ingredient I had needed after the thyme. “Oh no!” I moaned in distress.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” The taurs were watching me carefully. Their hopeful faces fell as they understood something was wrong.
“I-I don’t have any dandelions!” I shivered. “And with all this w-wind, the ones in the meadow must s-surely be bare. Their seeds are so d-difficult to collect!”
To my astonishment, Lyco got up, grabbed my clawed hand, and tugged on it. “Come on!” he yelled over the mounting roar of the whistling air. “Fritzi, you stay here with Iryl!” As soon as he saw the adult taur nod in agreement, we were off. I glanced back once to see Fritzi headed towards a skinny tree, the only form of shelter in the whole meadow. His back was to the wind, and he bent down his head over Iryl. Raindrops started to fall. It was a shame; my feathers had just begun to dry, too.
“Where are we going?” I asked, half hopping, half dragging my bothersome feathers behind me. They only got in the way when you were in a hurry. The way Lyco was moving, I wasn’t sure I pitied him for his lack of wings any longer. He had his speed to make up for that, and could run twice as fast as I could fly even with a good thermal. It was funny; all my life I had felt I was too far ahead. It was the first time I felt too far behind.
“To a hidden glen,” he answered. “It’s just through those bushes, and it’s too big for anyone but kids to get through very easily. I’m sure there’re still dandelions there; the wind wouldn’t be strong enough to blow through these bushes. They’re really thick, and they act like a shield.”
As we entered the glen, I gasped in awe. The thick canopy of trees overhead diminished as if it were a skylight over the small clearing. The stars shone through, but the gusts of wind did little more than ruffle the tree tops. A little shower of raindrops was all that came through of the sheets that fell beyond. A clear, little stream teeming with fish ran through it all, leading to a small, crystal clear pool lined with stones. It was considerably shallower than the one in the meadow. Soft, carpet-like grass and clover patches blanketed the area. Colorful, tiny flowers dotted the green, and berry bushes plump with bright, ripe berries grew around the perimeter. All around sprouted leafy clumps with stems ending in bits of fluff. The dandelions, though weeds, did not lessen the beauty of the glen; they simply added to it. A silly thought almost prevented me from picking them, fearing that I would ruin the natural splendor, but Lyco had already gathered a handful and I quickly chipped in.
“This is what we call Little Taur Glen. Don’t worry,” he told me with a grin, as if reading my thoughts. “This place is never any worse, no matter what you do to it. Trample the flowers, eat all the berries; it’s always the same every time we come back. I think it’s some sort of magic, but I wouldn’t know. You might, though.” Lyco looked at me. “Do you use the plants for your magic?”
I stared back stupidly before laughing aloud at his question. “Magic?! You think I can do magic?!” At the look on his face, I instantly regretted my actions. “Look, sorry, but I haven’t heard of anyone doing magic except in stories! Then again…I’d only heard of taurs in stories before now.”
“Yeah, whatever. Where do you live, in a rock?” he asked a little snappishly. I was hit by another pang of guilt. “I know a cattaur and a centaur who can do magic, so there. And I can’t believe you’ve never seen a taur before. What are you? How come we told you our names but you never told us yours?”
“A harpy, of course! We don’t use magic; we use herbs to heal others.” I suddenly came to understand perhaps our community was far more isolated than I had thought. The world wasn’t empty; we just kept away from it. The new insight shocked me, but I pushed myself to keep picking. We had to be careful as we put the precious weeds into my pack, so that the seeds wouldn’t detach. “Oh…name? Huh…come to think of it, our kind don’t really have names that we use very often. We mostly just chirp hellos and use friendly terms.” There were so few of them they hardly had trouble figuring out who was speaking to whom. “But I suppose you could call me Tuaria. That’s what my mother called me. I think it means ‘young eagle.’”
Lycoris didn’t respond but for a roll of his eyes. When I decided we had enough for both Iryl and to take back to the city, I closed my pack and slung it over my shoulders. We hurried back towards the meadow as fast as we could go, with Lyco mostly dragging me along. I felt like little more than a weight slowing him down, but he made no complaint. I think he was nicer than he let on. In no time we were at the tree under which Fritzi was curled as small as possible. His fur and hair clung limply to his soaked body.
“You found it?” he asked wearily, looking about ready to fall asleep. Droplets kept dripping from his antlers into his eyes and bangs. Lycoris flopped down in an exhausted heap beside him, too breathless to speak. “Iryl’s only gotten worse since you left.”
“We found it all right, thanks to Lycoris.” I smiled in spite of myself as I sat down to crush the dandelion seeds in with the powdered chamomile. The rain hardly seemed to bother me as I worked.
“Call me Lyco,” he answered raspily, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. I think it was his way of saying he forgave me for earlier.
Finally, the mixture was ready and when mixed with the cool water of the meadow pool, was given to Iryl by Fritzi.
“You’ve got to drink it, Little Rainbow,” he coaxed, holding the liquid to her lips as he set her down. “It’ll make you feel better. Come on, now…there’s a good girl.” He held her close after she had finished the brew, and I wondered if she was his daughter. Even if they were different from one another, the trio acted like a loving family. I envied their fondness for each other and felt suddenly that I had been kicked out of my nest and sent to study with the healer all too soon. We lay there quietly until at last the storm died down. I must have dozed off at some point, but woke when a few drops fell on me, descending from the scrawny tree limb above.
One dandelion lay on the ground, still white with fluffy seeds and sparkling with water drops. It must have fallen from my pack. Delicately, Fritzi picked it up, whispered something, and blew the seeds towards Iryl. She stirred, her eyelids fluttering, and giggled as they tickled her nose. The adult taur beamed at her and nuzzled noses.
“Iryl!” Lyco woke abruptly. He had been napping peacefully until the little taur’s peals of laughter reached his ears. Laughing, he grabbed her and tickled while she squealed with glee and tried to squirm out of his grip.
“Thank you, Tuaria.” The voice startled me so badly I jumped back. A kind chuckle responded. “Lycoris mentioned that was your name.”
“I guess it could be,” I answered, feeling foolish and smiling crookedly. “I think it’d be nice to have a name.” The thought of a name made me feel less like one of a large cluster and more like an individual. I thought Fritzi would laugh at me, but he only nodded and smiled warmly.
“It certainly is. If only I could return the favor you did for our little Iryl, though there’s not one thing I could think of to do so. Especially not for such a capable harpy like yourself. Would you happen to have something in mind?” He inquired politely. “Wasn’t there something you needed done by tonight?”
My eyes instantly turned to the horizon. It was not quite dawn, but the deep midnight blue of the sky was lightening to a hazy lavender. The herbs! Turning back to Fritzi, he continued to smile at the horror on my face…as if he knew.
“Not to worry. Just lead the way and I’ll take you there.”
“B-but…no, wait, you can’t!” I exclaimed, a little more rudely than I had intended. “I mean…I’m sorry Fritzi, but harpies don’t take kindly to other races. I took a risk even as I helped Iryl.”
“I know,” he replied soothingly. “And that is why I am so grateful.” His graceful gaze turned to the horizon as well. “There was a tale long ago of a battle fierce and strange. I don’t remember all of it, and I doubt there are many that still do, but I do remember this much: the airborne race of the harpies joined the fight unwillingly against the races they had before lived with in harmony. After the war was fought, they flew away in secret to a place only they knew. Some say it was fear that drove them away; others say it was shame. In truth, I believe it was us, the taur, who did them a wrong by not seeking them out as friends to show there were no hard feelings between us. They were said to have disappeared forever.”
I stared. It was appalling, really, that that he knew more of my own race than I did, despite that he was older. Most of that story I had never heard before. The parts that were familiar were only bits and pieces, and I still couldn’t be quite sure if they had been told to me long before. Even then, I was glad that he understood my situation so well. I didn’t even have to ask if he would keep my race a secret; he seemed to know that already too.
“There will be a time, I hope,” he continued, “That the descendants of the harpies who fled so long ago will return to us as allies. Meeting you has made me hopeful that time will come soon.” Fritzi gestured grandly around at the surrounding forest. “I shall carry you as far as I dare go, for as long as your wings are wet. I owe you at least that much. If ever you should come visit again, Tuaria, do not hesitate to drop by for a visit. I live quite a secluded life myself, you see,” he told her, a little embarrassed. “I’ve never been bold enough to encounter my peers, but young ones are always welcome. My home may be difficult to find for other taur, as it is in the heart of the forest, but I’m sure you’ll find it from the air with little difficulty.”
“Thanks, Fritzi,” I murmured, my words stifled by a yawn. Dawn was fast approaching, but with the adult taur’s help, I was confident I’d be able to fly home before anyone even started to worry about me.
“You’re very welcome. Now rest. You’ll need the energy for your flight,” he added kindly. “Lycoris, you’re in charge of Iryl until I return, understand?”
Lycoris was laughing as he lay on the grass with Iryl on top of him, pulling at his hair. He nodded and waved bye before he was preoccupied with the playful infant pinching his nose. I hardly noticed as Fritzi, his arms finally free after cradling Iryl for so long, picked me up. I found the branches on his head – he called them ‘antlers’ – to be surprisingly strong, and made a wonderful perch. Settling myself comfortably between them, we were off. The funny, musical, metallic sound I heard upon my arrival filled my ears again. “Fritzi…” I mumbled sleepily, “What’s that sound…?”
“Bells,” he replied, laughing vibrantly. It mingled with the lovely music of the bells and lulled me into the world of my dreams, where harpies and taur of all kinds reunited as friends. I finally had something to wish for the next time I saw a shooting star.
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