Tap...tap tap...tap... The sound was all she could give. Her voice had long since given out in seeking some movement from the shadows beyond. Light and dark were a flickering thing, as lightening in Nagrand on beautiful nights when the storms would roll across the lakes. But this unnaturalness simply meant their ship was most assuredly broken.
The thought brought a coughing laugh to her. Broken indeed. Jutting crystal, marbleized porcelain hull, and the damned wiring laid most uncomfortably upon her leg. By touch alone she knew it would be lost. Tears had long since left the junior engineer.
Last time I ever offer to take a shift for another in the lower decks. Just some minor repair work, nothing overwhelming. Truly Segira, it won't take much of your time. Why had she agreed. Now she tapped, waiting, hoping they would find her from whatever damned explosion caused the fault line in the hull.
Darkness did come again.
Segira woke with a start making her entire body ache. Bone-rattling it felt now. The entire archway and corridor fallen inward shivered and shook. A shrill creaking began of the metal enforced porcelain. A sound she never wanted to hear, and would long wish to forget. "Aya! Who...There?" She coughed, voice sounding as something else, but not her own. The quality of it surprised her, slurred and strange.
What greeted her eyes was the terrible form of rock given life. For a moment, she feared. Why would the elementals have been called? They were only used when ...crash. Now it made sense. She had not flipped wires wrongly to cause this, nor was it an attack.
They had crashed.
Sunlight pierced her eyes, causing a new found pain deep in her skull. If only it would go away. Hands came close, felt upon her neck, sought the damage of her body. The flight suit was torn to pieces along her sight, scrapes and tears showing bruised dark skin, but the ruination of her leg caused a few intakes of breath which meant...something not so good.
Something was pressed to her hands, cold to drink. She downed it too fast, sputtering. The world became a fuzzy thing. As they lifted her away, she only dreamed of her father playing talbuk rides with her on his shoulders.
Oria - August 24, 2007 06:25 PM (GMT)
She had always been a practical girl. Seeking the studies of the core elements, the make of metal casings, the dynamics of their crystaline drives had awakened her curiosity as much as knowing how to make water become misted vapors when she had a cold. But this moment, laying in bed, fidgeting and scratching at the cast on her leg, Segira wanted nothing more than to get away.
"No walking. No moving. And definitly," a hand swatted hers, "no scratching."
"Ach, but this itches, and I want to get out of here." She pulled and squirmed in her cot. "Too...too stifling...too close." Her movements did not seem all too frantic to her, but the nurse came by holding her down a moment, forcing a small patch upon her neck.
She woke hours later.
But the anxiety had not left her. Sweat broke upon her brow, her eyes darted, she needed to be away! Someone neared, bending to cots, whispering and tending those ill and recovering. When next they would come by, she would beg them so.
A face neared hers, elderly and worn. The sun seared features of the shaman. Wrinkling her nose, she thought to recoil. They were mystics, always spouting words slow and measured as if just speaking that way meant they knew more than any other. But science? Science was the true path!
"You look like someone kept abed and enclosed too long. I imagine sun on your face is just what you need."
The well formed argument died in a slack-jawed look. Did she--
"Read your thoughts? No. But your chart said you were found in a deep tube of the below decks. I can only imagine how close these walls seem." The gulp and slicked face answered that quick enough. "Lean on me, not your leg, and we should make it fine."
The moving made her grunt and sweat, but staying in that place like and invalid was not the life she wanted. Segira worked hard for her bars of service!
The fusalage of wreckage they left seemed one of the many gathering chambers. But this one had broken off and seemed propped up to become a building. The idea of a floor now becoming a wall gave her a strange sense of vertigo.
"Oh what...what happened? Where is my crew?"
The old hands patted her down to sit in all things...a grassy gnoll with flowers all about in the likeness of spring. But these blossoms...she had never studied in botany.
"First, I am Farseer Keenai. And you are?"
"Junior Engineer Segira, member of the second Cheil corps for maintenance. I was...working on some wiring updates in the lower chutes of the hall of lights...and there was a loud sound, and a shuddering in the hull. We crashed?"
The elderly woman nodded, silvered hair bobbing in the breeze. "Scouting missions are commencing. But it seems not the lands we knew of. Here eat, drink, but slowly. You need something with substance after that time adrift."
Segira bit into the heated rolls filled with hearty mushrooms. The woody tastes, the scents of the fresh air, being away from the constant smell of metal, glass, and cores seemed to pull away her fears...as much as she hated to accept that.
"So that is why you are here? Point investigating the local flora and fauna?"
A hearty laugh burst from Keenai's chest. "You are an engineer. I'll give you that. Yes and no. I am a healer, but a listener as well. I know some of the ship work, through crystal crafting. Just the way of the spirits that I was in the right place at the right time."
Segira squinted with a oogly eyed look at the mystic. Eating slowly, she could not decided if she liked the woman...or thought her severely daft.
Oria - August 27, 2007 06:03 PM (GMT)
"Calthai geminus nox?" Segira held up the blossom of white petals and a golden center. The scent was heavenly, smelling sweet as the lilies she picked as a child.
Moving through bushels of herbs and flowers laid about a large treated tarp, Keenai shook her head. "Close but if you look closer at the stamens you will see it's--"
"Oh! Bereil?"
They smiled together.
Rising, the farseer moved and settled in a squat before her charge. She never expected this one to keep following her. But every time evening came requiring Segira to return to the inner ship for sleep, her hands would shake and brow glistened in fear sweat. She never had the heart to tell the girl her time as an engineer in ship's maintenance was done.
"You are remembering much of your botany then? I imagine your teachers were rather happy with such a student."
Segira took the thing crystal slats offered by the farseer to lay the flower in them for pressing and keeping. Staring at the plant, squished for study, the budding life so very exposed, she shook her head. "Actually I was terrible at it. Wires and schematics were more for me. Sometimes, maybe, science goes to far." Her fingers moved over the glass, wondering if she would ever see Nagrand again.
A hand laid on her shoulder, squeezing lightly before lifting away. "Why not try something else. Hm?" The girl stoicly refused to look up. "Segira, we've done enough cataloging for a lifetime these past weeks. How about I teach you what I truly enjoy."
"And that is?" Her voice sounded small, but the curiosity was there.
"There is a lifeline in plants. Herbs, roots, and flowers hold more for us in their lives than simple study. With the right brewing and use, they can become medicines, elixirs, and ways to see." The last she spoke a little softer.
"To see?" The chin rose, hair a mess of dark locks all about her eyes.
With a motherly touch, she took hold of Segira's hair, parting and binding it into two talbuk tails. "To see deeper into everything around us. To see life itself. Or perhaps the past."
The girl laughed, screwing up her face. "Are you making fun?"
"No, I am speaking true. There is more to life and living than the theories you learned. Want to see...where they came from?"
Something in the way she asked made Segira grin, eyes dance, hooves fidget to move. Ah she found just the right angle.
"I would love to, Keenai."
Oria - August 27, 2007 08:35 PM (GMT)
Sitting by waters, staring in the depths, Segira watched her face. At first, it rippled. The dark skin with two winking eyes. She smiled, which stretched and shifted to look as ribbons. Reaching out, she made to touch it, gather the ribbons, and put them in her hair.
The waters became like glass. Perfect. Reflective. And in staring closer, she saw herself. Pale as a fluffy white cloud. Hair the color of shining silver white. Eyes glowing a brighter white. A startled shock filled her, mirroring in the other. For every motion she made, the other did the same.
"What do you see in the water?" She knew the voice. Keenai.
"I see me." The white girl's lips moved as her own onyx ones. "But...she is pale and white, where I am dark."
"Does it frighten you?"
"Well...no. It's rather pretty." They smiled at each other in the water.
"Then it is time."
"Time for what?" But when Segira turned, her friend was gone. All that remained was the blanket they rested on, a small brazier for their fire, and the bottles of things they made on it. Every motion swam around her, not unpleasant, but strange nonetheless. As the first time she took flight in skiff ships.
Rising unsteady, Segira took up her rudely made cane, the top capped in bent metals they found in scrap about the site. Hobbling, she sought through the tall grasses and various blossoms. The world was caught in late summatri, the season before most fields would be harvested and tilled. The bluefins would be in greater numbers. The trees would in time shift in colors. Her father taught her all these things.
Thinking of him made her smile more as she wandered. The world vibrantly shone in her changed vision. Everything sung with vitality, colors richer, textures more lush. Equations roamed through her mind remembering how he would chid her. Where was he? On the ship.
Suddenly everything changed. The skies seemed to darken as concern filled her. No one had news of him. Where was he? Had he survived in the halls of his leatherworking shop. Was he safe and worrying about where she may be?
She continued walking, the worry in her seeming to make the world around her change. A brooding of shadows and screeching sounds that told her to find safety. As the world became too dark to see in, which was beyond all logic to happen, she saw something faint before her.
Stones. Pebbles. Soft in color, like her pale reflection. Winding into the distance. Where else could she go? So Segira followed.
She thought on her father long. And what troubles you of him?
"Just that he can worry too much, and his heart would break from it. I should have been looking for him. But I don't even...know...where the...wait. Who's there?"
Do not even know what?
Her eyes turned this way and that, talbuk tails swishing to slap against her cheeks. "No...who are you?"
"Well of course it matters! It's dark. And my leg hurts. And this pathway formed from nowhere. And ...and...where's Keenai?!" Her breath should be swift, catching in her throat. Yet she was not afraid.
No you are not afraid.
"How did you...know that?"
I know you.
"That's rather oblique."
It is rather true.
"Please, now we are just mincing chainu. Who are you? Why can't I see you?" She reached her hands out in the dark. But nothing could be felt, just the path forward of small stones.
And you question my words when in such a place? Yet you do not run away? Only seek, curious, always forward. This is how you have always been.
"How do you know?"
You told me.
Segira laughed, stopped, and looked around incredulous. "I don't even know you!"
Yes you do.
"No I don't! I...wait wait, this is childish." She tugged hair about her fingers, leaning on the cane.
This is yourself. And you are on a journey. Always seeking forward yes? What is at the end? What answer?
Before speaking, she thought on that. Her steps continued. "I don't think I know the right questions. So any answers would be rather unwarrented."
Then you are ready.
She stopped on the path, and opened her eyes.
Gulping air, Segira looked around wildly as a pair of hands settled her. Bright cheery sunlight glinted over them under a large tree. She took those hands, peering into Keenai's eyes.
"What did you see?"
Segira curled up to rest on her knee. Her other throbbed as if she had walked a long time. "I saw..." Shaking her head, she wanted to laugh. Tell her of the pale image of herself in the water? That was lunacy! Or the talking voice asking questions? Madness! So...what could she say?
Those eyes were expectant, perhaps even knowing that war in her logical mind. The answer was no less comical in her elderly experience.
"I saw rocks, pebbles, in a path."
She nodded, grinning ear to ear. "Rakaa. You are Rakaa then."
"Rakaa?" She leaned back taking up a canteen of fresh water.
"It means little stones. You are on the path now."
She stopped midgulp. "Path?"
"To becoming a shaman."
"Wait...um what? No no, I'm a scientist."
Keenai took the canteen, taking a swig as well. "So was I."
Oria - August 28, 2007 03:34 PM (GMT)
She just wanted a rather large extinguisher. The fire elemental towered above. Heat rippled the air as a mirage from being far too close. Yet Rakaa's hair did not explode in sparks, her clothing did not singe, in fact, the meat in her packs was not warming up for a sandwich.
The presence of this spirit, seen now by imbibing a potion wrought of herbs touched with strange prayers to said spirits that should not have worked..but did...left her truly amused and confounded. She returned triumphant in the task it sent her on. Offering a jar of collected ashes, the spirit seemed overly pleased, giving her some bowing of..was that its head?
"Do you require anything further, seeker?"
"Well no...um...yes." She gnawed the inside of her cheek. Keenai had spoken clearly of what to do, and not to do. This moment was in the not category.
"Why are you here? How? How can you not appear and then appear and all from a potion? And...and...how is it I can hear you?" She stood defiantly, despite the trepidation in her eyes.
The spirit neared. Despite her concerns of heat and explosive force of some combustibles in her pack, Rakaa stood her ground. Did she mistake the movement or had the spirit shown...amusement?!
"Faith."
"Faith?"
"You trusted to see me. You believed in my existence. By seeking the herbs and rituals of the wise farseers, you now can see what you expected. Myself. I have always been, and ever shall be."
"So...you have always been here?"
"You cook? You rage?"
She gave that oggily eyed look. "Well...yes."
"You expected and believed by calling fire it would come?"
"Yes."
"You trust the flame to burn. The heat of an inferno to incinerate. The creation of explosive force. To clear and destroy to bring life. To sear and scald to staunch a wound. The fierceness you have in you. You trust these things."
"Um...yes."
"Why?"
Rakaa was stumped, though her mind scrambled. "Science and mechanics of natural laws. If substances are brought together, they can cause a combustion that produces fire and smoke. The fire consumes materials which kindles into a greater release of energy. That heat can be used as you described."
"Yet, how do you know the spark will come?"
"It just...is. That's nature."
"Yes. Faith."
Wincing, she gnawed a hole in her cheek. Science had nothing to do with faith. Yet his argument did give her pause. As she remained there, staring yet not watching the spirit, Rakaa tried to glean some understanding or witty retort. A pain lanced her brow, yet no skin burned.
When she woke, the spirit was gone. Beside her laid a small fire seared ...thing. The length and breadth of her hand, made of stone and metal. Upon it was a symbol.
She knew this to be Fire. Why? Cause he said so.... Right?
Oria - September 4, 2007 06:12 PM (GMT)
Nothing in the world could be as wretched as sailing. Why she agreed to take the passage left her cursing as her face met pail again. Wiping her chin, Rakaa imagined she looked as green as the seas.
"Yur a right mess lassie. I dun think I ever saw another so ill. Mebbe you should stay the eve in the wayfarer." The dwarf's hand was a heavy thing on her shoulder. She almost started from it. These aliens were all so strange!
Her big eyes met his kind ones. She stuttered something in reply, gathered what she could, and ambled from the long docks. The scents of fish and brine overwhelmed her senses. And beyond that, from what the folk said was a marshland. Leaving this land became the priority.
"Is there any way I could take your flyer?" She watched others take off on the eagle-headed beasts.
But the flight master only laughed. "We take coin. Not...whatever those crystals are. Get with the times, lubber."
Her face screwed up as fire errupted around her large, dangerous mallet. Then another hand tug at her. She yelped and turned, hands fumbling to fend off who or whatever it was.
But there below her vision was a young gent in fine clothes. And small. Smaller than even the dwarf. His eyes twinkled in a glee that was infectous. At first she thought him old with hair so silvery white. Yet he looked so young. "Miss, I've met your folk before and must say, this is right strange business to see you here."
He held out his palms, facing upward, a common enough greeting. "I'm Ruebias, a pleasure."
Tugging at a lop-sided talbuk tail, she seemed rather caught unawares. "Rakaa. Um hello and well met."
He grinned further, tilting his chin slowly. "Well Rakaa, seeing as you are new and not feeling too well from that trip, how about I offer you some tea, a light meal, and pearls of travel wisdom."
Any other time, she would have refused, hissing some curse to move on, as this most assuredly had to be a trap. But with the flipping of her tummy, and lack of any means to move forward, how could she refuse.
"Very well then, Ruebias. I accept. But no funny things!" She waggled a finger, trying to give a harsh look despite being green around the gills.
He grinned showing teeth. "Couldn't ask for better. This way then. The Wayfarer indeed has a fine common room."
Oria - September 25, 2007 08:56 PM (GMT)
"The world revolves around money."
"No, it moves around a star. Dis star is a sun in your tongue. A gaseous--"
"Gas? Why my uncle Thorton had such an incredible use for the stuff. Never smelled, yet more explosive than powder. Why, he had this idea about balloons--"
"Balloons? Ha! Dat travel technology is as outdated as sleighs in snow, no?"
"Well, I agree with you there, Rakaa. But in truth it does certainly revolve around money."
"Vat?"
"Money. The world. The chair you are sitting in is rented, luv. Nothing is free."
Again she pulled a talbuk tail wondering about the little friend she made. She had met con men before. Despite the insight of the Naaru, greed could still turn a head. "Ruebias, vat exactly are you gedgering?"
"Gedgering?"
"Offering? Vishing? Ya? Vat's your angle, no?"
The gnome laughed hard, smacking a hand on his thigh. With grace beyond what such a small man should have, he took up a tankard the size of his head for a long pull of drink.
"Direct. I like that. I know you're not the most strong of arm, or the most talented of wizards. Seen enough of your people moving past to notice the difference between those in plate, robes, finery, and whatever bits of leather they could scrounge."
He tapped the cross-stitched worn bits hanging from the shirt she tried terribly to rework. Seeking to smack him, she cursed him the stink of Clefthoof dung.
"Now now, here's what I'm thinkin'. I work for a man, runs quite a traveling business. He's always looking for folk willing to work hard for pay, stay honest to the caravan, and well...have a look to them."
"A look?" She peered with a slitting of eyes, such a spitfire of anger threatening to well up and punch him in the nose.
"I won't lead you wrong. The Draenei are a mighy new and strange people to see. And not many are about traveling. You'd be given a job while being seen. If you knew some tricks, I'm sure he'd have something grander than dung hauling to do. Silas has an eye for these things, as do I."
He patted her thigh. She smacked him again.
"Silas? Caravan? Vat is this he does?"
"Ever hear of the Darkmoon Faire?" For effect, he paused taking a long pull of drink.
"I must say...no. Vat is this faire?"
"A traveling caravan of magicians, tricksters, singers and dancers. Everyone has something they can do, from handling game booths to hawking tickets. And the few folk with some sincere talent are allowed to take a stage to do a bit more. It's hard work, but good. It'll gain you some coin, place to sleep, and sights to see."
"Tsche. Sounds fishy no?" The whole thing did not sound all that appeasing to Rakaa, until he rose up on his side of the bench, walked down to her, and raised her chin.
Eyes intent, almost to make her own swim from the deep glare, looked into her own. "I think you should, Rakaa. Trust me on this."
Oria - September 28, 2007 03:44 PM (GMT)
The entire experience reminded her of the apprenticing days. There she was, pulling cinches on pavillions, sweeping stalls, helping the brewmasters get their stilleries working, offering the random insight on tweaks for the tonks. Yet for all the odd jobs, Rakaa found a bit of peace in the work. When they would land from the traveling, setting up everything at a furious pace, she could earn rest in the morn and afternoon for an hour here and there for her own things.
A few times she sought the local township, though many were boring and filled with people pointing at her horns. Usually she spent it in the true focus and work of her assignment from the Exodar. To gather new species of botantical finds, catalog them, and send them for study. In a nod to her mentor, she sought what she could of the plants to formulate her own extracts. Strangly, these spirits that spoke to her on occasion seemed...pleased?
At the moment she dug through the earth in a hilly area of the dwarves. A few trees dotted the countryside, grasses swayed in the breeze leading to an expansive lake the colors of the sky. She had a few moments to think about things.
The entire spirit situation. It unnerved her still. No matter how she studied, meditated, and called through the totemic resonator coils, she had a deep trouble finding answers to it all. What did they want of her? Was there a meaning to it? All of her theories proved fruitless when trying to dissect the construction receptors. Somehow, through them, she could place a resonator. Some exploded. Some filled her with strength. A part of her thrilled and warmly accepted the feeling. But her logical mind still could not simply accept it all.
And Ruebias! With a huff, she stabbed at the unrelenting soil with her spade. He had taken her to meet this Silas, had a little secretive chat, and then disappeared with a wave of his hat. The lord of the faire, this Silas was. He took a quick interest in Rakaa, poking, prodding, smacking her backside. She would have backhanded him, but the towering ogre at his side stopped any thoughts of carrying through. In the day, he barked orders. In the night, his trailer always seemed bright and strange. Colors swirled in the windows. Sounds emitted from the door when opened. No one talked about it. No one gave it a moment's concern.
And yet, always couriers and seekers came. While on the road, he would have her ready a second carriage for visitors and companions. They ran the gambit of thieves, singers, and at times folk in such finery deeply cowled from prying eyes that Rakaa knew...something was up. ...but did she really want to know?
The tuber she sought loosened from the soil with a pop, granting her a swift falling back onto her arse. Squinting, she shook earth that still clung to it to inspect the find.
Yet of all the oddities she saw, from bearded women, gangly goblins, men that could bend things with their minds, children that could perform high flying acts, one of them did in fact intrigue her. His carriage was always locked. Unlike the others, it was not brightly painted or fancy. A plain thing, more for storage than anything else. At times, she was given a key and packages to simply 'place inside'. What she saw seemed nothing more than chests and boxes with very small drawers. All of them scratched upon with funny shapes.
The owner was never seen. The other rumored he never travelled with them, only appeared to open his carriage and set to work when they had finally set up tents and stalls for the proper faires. They said he sold his soul to dark powers, which of course caught her attention. Others whispered he was a strange mongrel of a man, born of wolves, that was given a mighty gift. And others rumored he was a magi who wronged a powerful druid, who cursed him into the twisted form he was given.
A high pitched whistle blew, calling them back to the carriages. Wrapping her tuber root in linen, Rakaa rushed back towards the caravan. They were shipping out again from this place towards a trek to Goldshire. Whatever that was.
For a moment, a coldness swept over her. Some sense to turn, and quickly. She had felt this before, something of the spirits. Sweat beaded upon her brow, a chilling feel that she should indeed turn, force her eyes on something. No. She would not listen to these superstitious things. With a great huff and furrowing of brow, she marched herself forward, not giving in to that weird feeling.
To see the shadow.
And the furry clawed hand that laid over the hole she dug.
Home 
