Differences

This shows you the differences between two versions of the page.

--- sessions:worldbuilding:2023-01-28 [2023/06/02 19:35] – shyriath
+++ sessions:worldbuilding:2023-01-28 [2023/09/18 15:05] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1
@@ Line 85: / Line 85: @@
 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>shyriath|"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>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."}}
-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.
+{{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-
@@ Line 120: / Line 120: @@
 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.}}