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--- sessions:worldbuilding:2023-01-28 [2023/03/25 13:44] – shyriath
+++ sessions:worldbuilding:2023-01-28 [2023/09/18 15:05] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1
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 Demarath could see, as he approached more closely, that Ferleth was not holding up well at all. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and she had the look of someone who was remaining upright only through sheer willpower. The silver girl's head snapped up unsteadily to look at him as he approached, and, well outside of normal conversational range, she snapped, "What d'you want?"}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|"I //want// to teach you how to fish," Demarath said, appearing remarkably not-startled given Ferleth's air. Her worn down state might have helped give an impression that he could, if she randomly chose to assault him, defend himself. He smiled mildly. "I only recently learnt it, myself."}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Ferleth appeared to have a certain amount of difficulty with this statement; she blinked at him, at first with suspicion and then with increasing amounts of puzzlement. On the bright side, this gave Demarath a rare view of her face not marked by anger or bitterness.
+An offer to teach her how to do something? Why? Was it something that required multiple people? Would she become dependent on him for food? She remembered, vaguely, the smith's husbands going out to fish alone all the time, so surely-
+"I... I don't understand," she mumbled. "Why would you want to do that?"}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath blinked slowly for a moment, a stand-in for a slow, gradually understanding nod. Yes, that would be confusing to someone who only understood the language of exploitation. "Well, you won't accept food from us and you're doing a frankly terrible job at catching fish yourself," he observed, presenting it as though that were an answer. "Seems only fair."}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Ferleth's pride was not wounded, because she had very little of it left to wound. But she had the feeling that she had encountered a new behavior, and although her vocabulary did not include a word for 'smartass' she decided that she was mildly unfond of it. Oh, it was honesty, of  a sort; but it didn't answer her question. The idea that fairness came into it was absurd, not that she had much concept of that, either.
+Her expression recrystallized into one of suspicion, though far less sure of itself than the previous one. "If you want to go through the trouble," she replied, "Then fine. But I don't think you'll get anything out of it."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|"I fully intend to get out of it that you won't starve," Demarath commented and offered encouragement: "So let's prove you wrong."
+His attention moved to the bog. It was a rather trickier place to hunt for anything than the clear lake that Ilirith had first taught him how to fish in, but not impossible. The tricky part was finding the fish. Most of the rest was an iteration of the original lesson, which he started to mirror for Ferleth, in at least mild disregard for how grumpy she was or wasn't about it.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|In hindsight, it was lucky that most of the marsh was too shallow to require swimming. Though takma swimming did not make extensive use of the arms, being able to use them was a convenient option; but Ferleth's poorly-healed arm might have complicated matters.
+Demarath had gotten enough experience with fishing by now, though, to recognize that Ferleth's mental state might prove to be a serious problem. Dropping her empathic shielding was no issue - she seemed to have trouble maintaining it anyway, and she seemed to display no great embarrassment at exposing herself in that fashion - controlling her empathic output was something else. The falling of her shield unmasked the emotional equivalent of a klaxon going off, with hunger's wail underlaid by shrieks of rage and pain and sorrow. Ilirith and Zadireth, who had both sat down on a nearby dry hummock to watch, actively winced at the feeling of it.
+Demarath advised Ferleth to focus on the hunger, as he had; given how long it'd been since she'd eaten anything substantial, that wasn't as hard as it might otherwise have been, but simplifying her emotional profile proved to be remarkably difficult, and nearby fish seemed reluctant to approach her. After a frustrating stretch of remaining absolutely still and struggling with not to get angrier, she abruptly snarled and started thrashing at the water in frustration.
+"This is //ridiculous//!" she raged. "How am I supposed to catch anything this way?"}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath frowned a little. "Mostly with patience. I realise that's not easy when you're hungry." It was redundant information, really - he had demonstrated that fishes could be caught that way in plain view of Ferleth and, while she was not a mentalist, it was hard to frame the whole thing as some sort of elaborate trickery. Not that she didn't believe in elaborate trickery, but it was hard to connect 'trying to placate fish with psychic masquerades' to some kind of ill effect. At most he was trying to waste her time. There were quicker ways to kill her, even given the fact that she wouldn't make it easy for anyone.
+A soft sound, half frustration, half resignation. "If you watch me catch another fish and I give it to you directly, would you consider eating that? Get some energy back?" By body language he was expecting a 'no'.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|She didn't understand. Nobody in her life, so far as she could recall, had done anything for her without some ulterior motive, or something that had turned out to be one, but if there was one here, she couldn't see it. In other circumstances, she might still have refused just on the grounds of general suspicion.
+But she was hungry, and tired, and weakening, and, frankly, desperate. And thinking of the future was not her strong suit, but possibly - even at the risk of //some// kind of betrayal - taking the chance of betrayal in the present was worth the chance to be alive to deliver horrible retribution afterward.
+With a weary slump of posture and a sigh, she murmured. "Fine, yes. Don't wanna make a habit of it, but yes."}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath brightened and almost instantly submerged. Long minutes of quiet followed, during which nothing distracted Ferleth from the jumbled thoughts that were constantly assaulting her consciousness. It was almost enough to interrupt the hunt. But instead, Demarath resurfaced, a fish's tail slapping vigorously at his face as it tried in vain to escape his grip. The muck dripped off his antennae; he did not, by any measure, look attractive. The fish, on the other hand, did. Stunning it by whacking it firmly against a rock, Demarath wore a satisfied expression and held the fish out to Ferleth.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Ferleth limped hesitantly closer, coming just close enough to take the fish, and did so, reaching out and grapsing it slowly as if expecting it to explode if handled too incautiously. She kept her gaze locked on Demarath the whole time, possibly in the event that he intended a last-minute attack.
+When she had the fish and no betrayal was forthcoming, she snapped up the fish with a swift motion. Watching her eat was a mildly unpleasant experience, especially since the damage to her muzzle and teeth caused her to make faint, involuntary slurping noises in the process, but at least it was over quickly.
+If Demarath had expected actual thanks, he would be disappointed. Ferleth eyed him uncertainly, as if aware that some response might be appropriate but not knowing what it was. She settled on a vague nod of acknowledgement, which was probably as close as she would get; but at least her hostility, at least toward him personally, had cooled to something like puzzled suspicion.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|Demarath had, in fact, not expected thanks. The fact that she was //eating the fish// was enough of one - a physiological manifestation of appreciation, far more sincere than anything she could have spoken. He waited for her to finish the food, then asked: "Do you want to continue trying to learn fishing once you've digested this fish?" It was, evidently, her choice if and when to continue.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Ferleth considered this uncertainly, but before she could respond, Zadireth spoke, as quietly and inoffensively as he could manage, though the look Ferleth shot him was venomous nonetheless. "We really shouldn't stay out here if we can help it," he said. "We're not very far from the refuge, and we're in the open; any attention we draw to ourselves, however unlikely, we might draw to it. One of the lower chambers is connected to the outside so that water and fish are let in, so if you want to practice fishing, you can do it there and be out of sight."
+Ferleth snapped, "So where is this refuge?" Zadireth pointed through the mist. Barely visible, but not really all that far away, was a kind of island amidst the swamp, a kind of high, rocky hillock whose lower extremities were covered in gnarled trees. Ferleth looked at it, then gave a kind of assenting snort.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|The revelation perplexed Demarath. Surely if there had been a refuge, Zadireth could have said something sooner? It was odd that it would come up only as they were within sight of it. It made him wonder whether they passed other refuges already and Zadireth had kept them unmentioned simply to expedite their journey.
+Regardless, it promised rest. They could all use some - especially Ilirith. His attention moved back to her with some concern. It should be no problem for her to make it to the refuge. Maybe there would be an opportunity to clean and dress the wound.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|Ilirith was, indeed, not looking all that well. She seemed to be just about able to keep herself from stumbling, but she was not walking steadily, whether from mere exhaustion or from some illness that had managed to take hold.
+They continued on for another half a rest, and the hillock became clearer. By itself, its aspect was gloomy and uninviting, but here in the middle of the swamp, rising above the squelching muck, it looked heavenly. Takmar were not averse to getting wet, but there was a great difference between good clean water and this stuff, and in such a situation, being able to get dry had its attractions, refuge or no refuge.
+Ilirith's head jerked up, a little unsteadily. "We're being watched," she murmured. "Or... perceived? I felt something on my mind."
+"Yes," Zadireth replied, wheezing a bit. "There's a few people here to keep an eye on things. Kurass is a mentalist, like you. She's in charge of the refuge, more or less." He glanced around to get his bearings. "That little indent up there, behind the trees, is where the entrance is."
+Up they went onto dry land - or at least drier land, since it had rained here not all that long ago - and winding their way between trees and upthrust rocks, the view from above or from nearly any other direction soon hidden by obstacles. At last, they came up against the side of the hillock, where something like a shallow ravine had cut steeply down through its side and left exposed rock.
+At first glance, there was nothing there; but as they approached, Demarath could see a narrow horizontal slot in the rock, with only darkness visible behind.
+This close, in the back of their heads, was the tingling sense of additional Chosen nearby.
+Before they could say anything, there was a faint blurring in the rock next to the slot, and then a section of it opened outward, as if it were a door. A male's burgundy-colored head poked out from behind it. "Back again?" he said, eyeing Zadireth and his collection of refugees. "I assume there was trouble?"
+"Oh, yes," Zadireth replied with a kind of weary cheerfulness. "Food, rest, and medical attention needed all around, I think. ...Demarath, Ilirith, Ferleth," he added, as he began herding them inside, "this is Shemyl. He's the mostly the one who keeps this establishment from falling apart, literally as well as metaphorically, and - as you have seen - also a passable doorman."
+Ferleth continued to stand just outside the 'doorway', staring at it in clear unease. Possibly she was not yet mentally prepared to meet yet other new people at this particular time, nor go into their dwelling.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|With the refuge open, a sense of release touched Demarath's pent up emotions. He did not cry, although he took distant note that he could have, and some hours ago perhaps circumstances would have been right for it - but now instead it shifted his full attention to Ilirith, an almost paternal concern blossoming vividly in his skull. He had the good sense to keep it mostly to himself, though she would no doubt be aware of it, but he moved closer to her, ready to offer his help if she said anything about it at all.}}
+{{wst>shyriath|It was just as well. This close, Demarath could see that Ilirith was trembling with the effort of keeping herself upright. Shemyl appeared to notice this as well, though he too did not say anything about it. "All right, medical attention first," he replied, ushering them through the doorway. He raised his voice. "Shoss! They'll need you to have a look at them!"
+One by one, they went up a narrow, curving hallway; Ferleth reluctantly followed at the end of the line when it became clear that she would be left sitting outside otherwise, but she flinched visibly when Shemyl caused the "door" to swing shut again and become one with the rock face.
+The hall, and indeed most of the rest of the refuge, had a look of having been scooped out rather than cut, and it seemed that Shemyl or someone with similar powers had made it. Though the walls were not squared off, they were smooth, and the floors perfectly flat. The hall was fairly dark, but at the end of it was a large room - some kind of common room, it appeared, with a wide table and sitting mats - where, hanging from the high ceiling, were tiny, brilliant blue-white lights on silklike threads. Passages led away from the chamber in various directions.
+Two other takmar, both Chosen, were there. One was a bright red male; the other was a woman, pale blue speckled with yellow, and, surprisingly, rather older than everyone else present. Zadireth had mentioned once that Chosen aged more slowly than other takmar, so he did not know how to hazard a guess at her age, but she //looked// older than his mother.
+The male red male spoke up. "So? Who needs attention first?"
+Zadireth gestured at Ilirith. "Ilirith there has a wound in the leg. She's lost a fair bit of blood and we haven't had much luck keeping the wound clean-"
+"-and I'm not feeling very well, at that," Ilirith murmured, swaying slightly. "I don't want to take away from other priorities, but-"
+The male shook his head. "You first, I think." He turned back to Zadireth, who continued, "I've managed to crack some ribs, I think. The other girl, Ferleth, wasn't recently wounded but could probably benefit from examination. Demarath there seems to be the healthiest of us at the moment."
+"In that case," the female said, "he can help me help Ilirith to this room over here." She looked at him. "You take one side, I'll take the other." Ilirith looked like she wanted to object, but either out of prudence or exhaustion, remained silent.}}
+{{wst>pinkgothic|It was the most natural chore in the world to Demarath's instincts, carefully manoeuvring himself into a supportive posture. He said nothing, instead using the dim light to assess Ilirith from up close as much as he dared, not wanting to be invasive about it, then split his attention between her and the building's layout as he helped the woman bring Ilirith to the other room.}}