"Nïƙi." The old woman was firm in her command, speaking with a cracked, shaky voice. As people went in and out of the temple, their iyọ lanterns lit the entryway and steps. It would keep
Asari in her illusioned form. Quietly the woman contemplated the woman with her. Her unmarked skin was winkled and thin, but her striking green eyes were youthful. She could see clearly in the dim light despite her age. Her faded black hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun and the staff was resting gently against the steps next to her. With a shaky grip, she reached beneath her fur cloak, pulling out her own iyọ lantern. Deftly she lifted the lantern up, shining the bright light in the Naer's face.
"Ke’ua srekamtxons. Ke’ua märmäräs. Ṣïṣẹ awt takip auvi." The old geezer offered, a smile playing on her face. Slowly, she lowered the lantern, leaving it between the two of them. It glowed
yellow. She waited for a response that would never come. After a few bits, she seemed to register that this woman did not speak their language. Tapping her nose gently, the older woman smiled.
"Do you understand me now?" Over the course of time, many of the elders within the city had taken the time to learn another language. Most older citizens could speak common and Xanthean fluently. They were capable of interacting with the tourists and sailors that came into their city while their sons and daughters only laughed and mocked the outside world. Her hands shook as she gestured to Asari's shoes. "You are going to hurt yourself one day. You should wear sensible shoes. Like mine."
The old woman lifted her cloak away to reveal knobbly ankles. She pointed her toe into the stair and twisted it like she had beautiful legs. Her skin hung off her bones like wet tissue paper. It flapped in the cold breeze and sported large amounts of curled black hair. Although her body had aged, her personality had not. The old woman clearly thought she looked beautiful despite her flaws. Her moccasins, however, looked beautiful. They had soft rabbit fur on the inside and were made of durable deer hide. Talented hands had sewn an interpretation of the Ojọgbọn into the top in green and gold stitching. They looked new.
"Ah, Ti'wang," the woman mumbled, releasing her cloak and pants to cover her horrific leg. The older woman brushed a fading strand of hair behind her ear, blushing at the much younger man. "Snafpìlfya awt ke’u cehnek?"
The woman was clearly addressing Ti'wang and his son,
Navik. She reached over to touch Asari's wrist. Was this friendship or some disease of the mind that took hold of the old. The creaky woman did not seem afraid of the Naer despite her oddities. "This is Ti'wang. I've known him a long time. His son, I have not yet had much interaction with. They are good people. Ti'wang comes every arc to celebrate with me. Do not fear Asari. I will translate for you."
That was odd. How did the old woman know the girl's name? A knowing glitter lined her eye as she moved her attention back to Navik and his father. The older pair politely gabbed in Xanthea, leaving the youngsters to their shenanigans.
Meanwhile, at the Hunters' Fire Pit, several of the men were working with
Ti'niva to clear the wet wood from the pit. One man had dry wood in his arm, dumping it into the pit once the others had done the hard work. Children danced around, playing a game of tag as their parents set their iyọ lanterns down.
Blue, green, and
yellow iyọ flapped idly in their containers, the colors illuminating the area while the men worked on the fire. Another, this time a heavily clothed woman, dumped wood into the pit. Her daughter, small and chipper, began to pass around empty cups. Soon, Holpxay was filling those interested in drinking and warming their souls with spirits.
For those with familiars, their invisible counterparts would come together to share their own adventures. There were a variety of birds, wolves, large cats, strange primates, and all means of reptiles. Some were category one familiars with no abnormalities. New familiars that were considered category two familiars boasted their strangeness. One leopard showed off its ram horns as if they were a crown while an old bear simply shook its head.
Soon the fire was roaring, melting the hardened earth nearest it. One of the men gestured to the fire, making a point to smile at
Xi'Taliah's Grandma-ma. "Osise ke’u kufuata."
With the fire crackling with life, the men moved to sit down to listen to the end of
Arlo's story. Behind the young boy, in the shadows, stood a human man. The storyteller had caught his attention. The glowing spiderweb on the back of his neck made him
very interested in this particular man. He wore a variety of clothes. His hair consisted of thick dreadlocks with a variety of baubles and shinies that he had collected from his travels. This man made it a point to sit next to Arlo.
Vega was on Arlo's other side. He would split friends. He unshouldered his pack, dropping it to the ground between his feet. Then, he pulled his trench coat tightly around him, hiding the variety of trinkets that hung about his body. Once he was settled, he leaned towards the fire. His fingers stretched and bent as he worked the Cylus chill from them.
"That story hits home sir. Idalos must be getting smaller, because I could swear up and down the coast that I know that hat. I was traveling with the man that left it behind. He found this tree and gave me these," the traveler started, reaching into his jacket to pull out the string of beads and feathers. The feathers were split and some were broken. Clearly the necklace had seen many adventures. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about the fork at..."
The wood in the fire pit shifted and collapsed, almost dousing their warmth. Several Sevir jumped up, causing a ruckus. Many were concerned that their source of heat would disappear if suffocated appropriately. Two men took a pair of wet sticks from the cleared pile and began shifting the wood within the pit.
"Bah, probably not. Never mind. You, redhead," the man bolstered, a Sev'ryn woman reaching over to fill his glass. He took a hearty drink. This same girl would fill the glasses of Xi'Taliah, Ti'niva, Vega, and Arlo if they would permit her before sitting back down. "You don't look like you are native. Tell us a story. You must have a good one."
► Show Spoiler
For those interested in using Xanthea and are fluent or broken speakers of the language, please find our translator
here.
"Nïƙi." - "Sit."
"Ke’ua srekamtxons. Ke’ua märmäräs. Ṣïṣẹ awt takip auvi." - "Your nails. Your shoes. They are not appropriate."
"Snafpìlfya awt ke’u cehnek?" - "How are you both?"
"Osise ke’u kufuata." - "For you elder."
| ! | Message from: Nymph |
Here are the rules for how the rest of the thread will go. Please heed them:
- This thread is currently CLOSED. No one else may join.
- Players are allowed to move between locations. Please highlight this to me as best as you can if you plan on moving between locations.
- Please do not release your iyọ until I have written the go ahead.
- Each player is allowed to write ONE POST in between moderator posts. There is no order, so post as you deem appropriate.
- I will not take control of private NPCs; however, my NPCs may interact with them as if they know one another if they have lived in Desnind long enough to add to the story. If you wish for me to control your private NPC, please PM me.
- I will aim to post again on 3/12/17. If you cannot post by then, please let me know via PM. Placeholders will not count as communication.
- The old woman at Moseke's temple does not currently have a name. The scruffy man at the Hunters' Fire Pit does not currently have a name. Please do not give them one.
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