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Practice and Introductions; For Kya (Mokiri)
Topic Started: Oct 20 2017, 05:29 PM (122 Views)
Mythborn
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Avatre stood in grass nearly as tall as her own shoulder, her head, a bright flare of pink shading to deep purple in the fall sunshine. The gold undershading blended with the fading grasses as she watched her friend move at a crouch, silently shifting the grasses. At intervals he popped up from his safe hiding in the grass to send a stick winging away into the morning to strike a large bundle of grasses. Her friend had set up the bundles in various positions throughout the field. His sticks, with feathers on one end (she had looked at one, before he'd managed to retrieve it from the bundle), rarely missed their mark, though they had when he had first begun, hours earlier in the day, when she had started each time he popped out of hiding. Now she was used to the behavior, and only watched in wary curiosity.

When he had spent a dozen arrows, Daijon went to collect them from the various targets he had set up, and smiled at Avatre as she approached, now that he had stopped hiding in the grass. He rubbed her gently, just behind her jaw, and she thrust her muzzle into his middle, snorting happily. She lipped at the arrows in his other hand, and he pulled them away, not sharply, but firmly.

"No, Avatre," he said firmly in his first language, the language he always used with her. "Arrows do not go in your mouth."

An inquisitive note threaded through his mind, and he replaced all but one of the arrows into the quiver on his back and held up the last.

"This is an arrow." The young Shadow Draux sniffed it, her nostrils flaring, but did not try to put her lips to it again. He repeated the word several more times, as one might teach a young child a new word. "It is a weapon." Again, the note of curiosity, and Daijon paused. With one hand very gently, the hunter traced some of the scars on her neck. "Weapons are used to hurt. To kill." He tapped the Shadow's fangs and then reached down to tap the claws on her forefeet. "Weapons." Daijon could feel the anxiety building in her, but set it aside. That was something else he'd be practicing. He still wasn't terribly good at it. "Some weapons have poison."

More curiosity, tinged with uncertainty this time, as though she wasn't sure she really wanted to know what he would tell her. A deep breath and thoughts of calm and reassurance settled her. He would never hurt her, she was his lady, his friend, his partner. But she must learn, so that she could be safe. He replaced the last arrow and withdrew instead one fletched with the feathers of a raven. This one he held very carefully, and the caution in his mind was sufficient to make Avatre wary.

"Poison a material put to a weapon to make it kill more quickly," he explained, and sniffed the arrow, the acrid scent of the ten-step poison clear to him. He offered the point to her, and she sniffed cautiously, then backed up to sneeze, which made Daijon laugh. "Agreed. Many poisons can be smelled. Be wary." He twisted the arrow around to show her the black feathers. "My arrows with black feathers have poison. Other feathers do not. Understand?"

An image wavered behind his eyelids as he blinked, so Daijon closed them to see it more clearly, returning the poisoned arrow to its side of the quiver without needing his eyes to do it. A black-fletched arrow, with a strong feeling of fear and caution. After a moment it shifted to a white-fletched arrow, with only caution.

"Perfect, Avatre." He put his forehead to hers and rubbed his hands through her silky mane, a gesture she loved. Avatre headbutted him gently. "You are very smart. Now for my spear."

He was trotting back to the fence when he heard her snuffling snort, a noise she made when she was uncertain of something. Looking up, Daijon saw a half dozen spears over the top of the four-foot fence, in a style he recognized, and the faces of men he knew. With a whoop, one that would have gotten him in trouble with an elder protector on the plains at home, he ran for the fence, vaulting over it in a smooth, practiced motion. He lost not an arrow in the movement, landed on his feet and kept running, skidding to a halt in front of a half dozen of his own people, the first he had seen in more than a year since he had left the village.
He surveyed them with an impassive face despite his exuberant reaction, six men, five protectors and one hunter, plus one female. He knew them all. Avatre's shrill call of alarm (despite his clearly happy reaction) sounded over the fence, which was far too tall for her to jump as he had done. He sent a wave of solid joy and reassurance to her, and she quieted, sticking her sunset-colored nose through the fence to watch.

For each of the men among those before him, he gave a close-fisted strike, strong enough to rock their heads but not to injure. He wished them strength in their own language, and each returned the gesture. He turned then to the female, shorter than himself, but with the same blue eyes that marked her as a Tribute. For her he gave an open-handed slap, hard enough to sting but no more.

"Strength to Mokiri Tarakona," he told her, and waited for her to return the greeting. "Welcome to the Academy."
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Kyariel


Mokiri made a close-mouthed giggle noise as her eyes reflected her own joy seeing Dai in motion even as he greeted her directly. Ignoring the negligible sting of his greeting as she returned the openhanded swat to the side of his face as best she could reach due to her height "Strength to you, Daijon Tarakona". Before she managed an amused look "did you get taller again? I had to jump to greet you!". His daughter's straightforward commentary got a faint smile from her father as he looked at her before spying the nose watching them "Daijon, is that your bonded?".

Hearing her father the young woman curiously looked over even as she fished out a bracelet she'd made specifically for Daijon. Blinking in some surprise when she looked down at the threads she'd woven into the twine that braided around two arrow shaped pearls clearly made by her having tricked a clam into nacreing a specific shape "Mother isn't the only one to guess a color right by accident...meant to give this to you before you left though". Then she held up a bracelet which bore threads of similar coloration to Dai's own dear Avatre as well as the shimmering arrows formed from pearls.

Though she did finally speak in the 'common' tongue toward Avatre, clearly still thinking her a dragon "hello?". Seeming a bit confused why the fence kept the 'dragon' from just following Daijon "is your partner too young to fly over the fence to follow you?". While Mokiri spoke the other males present looked from her to Daijon as they curiously waited for an answer as well, though the lot of protectors were likely leaving shortly thereafter. No need to stay too long when the one they protected was safely within the academy now after all, especially not when the whole village needed them.
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Mythborn
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It had been a long time since he had seen Mokiri. She was the only other Tribute-to-be in the tribe when he had left (though there were a couple of older Tributes who had returned after service in the Sekkian ground forces, and he supposed a new one might have been born in the year's span he'd been gone). He had forgotten she was so short, even for their people. Living at the Academy, he had realized that his people were, on average, shorter than most of the people here. Mokiri was short, even for their people.

"I may have, since you saw me last," Daijon replied, lapsing into a wide, pleased grin now that all the greetings had been exchanged.

When Mokiri's father mentioned his bonded, Daijon looked up to the fence. He had vaulted it, but she was too small to jump it, and hadn't figured out the gate yet. He laughed and nodded, trotting back to the fence.

"She is my bonded," Daijon called back to them, gesturing for them to follow him toward the fence. "She is not a dragon. She is Draux. From what I was told, she will not fly. Only glide."

He flipped open the latch on the gate and swung it open so that Avatre could join him. She came to the gate, but peered around the edge of the fence, nostrils flared wide to catch the scent of these strangers that made her human so happy. None of the people they met normally made him happy like this. Why would these? They looked like him, where the others didn't, as those of her herd looked like her, while the big creatures here didn't. Maybe that was why he was so happy. His herd had come home.

"Come along, Avatre. These are my people. Say hello before they go home." Avatre snorted distress at that. If his herd went home, he would go with them. Would he leave her here alone? Daijon smiled, a soft smile just for her. "You are my people, too, now. We will stay. You, me and Mokiri. We belong here. The others must return."

Avatre rubbed against him, and he put a hand down to rub her neck in return. He looked back up to his fellow tribesfolk with a smile.

"She is Avatre. Avatre, this is Mokiri." He gave the names of the others, pointing clearly to each as he did. He could tell the hunters were restless to be on their way, and he gave them a respectful nod. "You did well, to bring her so far. Be safe on your journey home."

The protectors all wished him well and stepped aside, moving a short distance away so that Mokiri and her father could say their goodbyes. Daijon waited patiently by the fence (though he closed the gate again once Avatre had stepped fully out of it, still pressed firmly to his leg). It was always a sad thing, to part from one's parents, or one's child, even if it was so that one could do their duty. It had been a tearful time when he had taken leave of the village, even after the celebration, when he had parted ways with his parents, with his grandfather.

He knew that he might never see them again. That he might come, and serve, and die for his duty as a Tribute, without ever returning to see those people most important to him ever again. Few Tributes returned. Most either died for their duty or found families among the people of the East. Fewer still brought those foreign families home, knowing it almost impossible for an outsider to be accepted in the village.

Seeing these men of his village, and having Mokiri there, was wonderful, but it was also sad, a reminder of all he might never have again. Avatre warbled softly, and he knelt to put his face on a level with hers so that she could hook her head over his shoulder in what Daijon saw as her approximation of a hug. He hugged her back, gently, and ruffled her mane between her ears.

"I am fine, Avatre," he assured her, smiling.
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Kyariel


Mokiri giggled at Daijon's explanation of his partner as he convinced the Draux out of the gate "she is adorable!". When Dai introduced her Mokiri edged closer, holding out her hands, one empty the other holding the gift for Dai still "hello Avatre, what a fitting name for you; want to see the shiny thing I made Daijon?". She was mindful of not letting the curious animal mouth the bracelet however as she finally looped it around Dai's arm. Accidentally having made it a bit too long so she ended up tying it around his upper right arm before going back to her father for her goodbyes.

Trying hard not to look sad "do not worry Father, I'll make the village proud of me; maybe when I graduate I can visit home with my partner?". The other hunters didn't need their sharp eyes or their excellent hearing to catch the shake to her shoulders or the quivering to her voice before it was muffled into her father's lion pelt cloak. Which clearly no one held against her as her father hugged her "I look forward to that day Little Cub, your mother and I are already so proud of you however; I want you to remember that".

She nodded as she stepped back "I will Father, always". Then she looked toward Daijon before turning back to her father. Sounding as hopeful as possible "if I and my future partner can manage it we'll try to bring Daijon and Avatre to visit as well...if my partner can carry more than me anyway, or at least we'll try to travel overland to visit". Mufasi chuckled as he patted her shoulder "I'll be sure to let Daijon's family know your plan when we get back home". The rest of the protectors and Mokiri's father thanked Daijon on his wish for a safe journey home, as Mufasi happened to make a comment as he turned away. His chuckle showing his amusement "should be far easier to avoid the crocodiles without someone getting curious about a log that looked like it was breathing on the way home".

Mokiri's cheeks colored a bit at the memory as she mumbled "was trying to be helpful and gather shellfish for dinner the second night of our journey...hadn't seen the eyeshine". Likely a surprise to Dai; it would be the one protector he'd gotten after about drinking who waved a hand between himself and Mokiri then her father to indicate who saved her from an early end. His trying to stand proudly would also show a necklace of shell bits and notably large fangs; likely the teeth of the beast that would have had Mokiri for dinner mixed in with the shells from their dinner. Much as her father wanted to stay longer however the protectors did turn en masse to leave as near silently as they'd come with their small charge. Likely for the best, as that many fight ready warriors was probably going to make the villagers of Lihn nervy if they were spotted walking late at night.
Edited by Kyariel, Nov 21 2017, 01:24 AM.
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"She is beautiful," Daijon commented absently, his attention on the thing in the girl's hands. Avatre, too, put her attention to Mokiri's hands, snuffling at the string, but lipped, instead of the shiny, Mokiri's dress at the shoulder.

When the thing was tied around his upper arm, it was just under the ties for the spirit-knife he bore. He examined it now, as he had not when she held it up initially. The threads that were woven into the plant-fiber base were creamy gold, pink and purple, near matches to Avatre's own colors, and the little 'pearls' were vaguely arrow shaped. Mokiri must have tricked an oyster into covering them. It was a fine gift.

"Thank you, Mokiri, it is good." He shifted it only slightly so that it would sit above the spirit-knife rather than below it, and so that the pearls were not obscured by the knife. He nodded his agreement to her plan to return to the village after their partners were grown. "We will come if our duty permits it."

His attention shifted between the hunter, Mokiri and the one of the protectors that used to be in his own squad, before he left the village, and his eyebrows rose at the story that came together between the three of them. Daijon stepped up the protector, whom he had had to chastise for dishonorable behavior in the past, and struck him, closed-fisted, far stronger than he had done the first time, hard enough to knock the slightly younger man to the ground. It was a high compliment to a man he'd been little but civil to for some time. Daijon's smile was pleased when he offered a hand to help the protector up again, and the protector took it, grinning broadly.

"I imagine you will look more carefully the next time, yes?" Daijon asked Mokiri, his eyebrows up at her this time. "At home there is almost always a protector or hunter nearby. Here it is only you and I, and I cannot always be there to protect you. I must tend Avatre, and you will have a partner of your own, if that is to be your duty."

Before the warriors left, Avatre managed to headbutt each cautiously (they were her friend's herd, so they were her herd, too, kind of). The protectors, somewhat startled, nonetheless scratched at her ears or ruffled her mane. Daijon smiled, watching her. He was glad that their appearance and language made her more comfortable with them, even if it didn't banish her caution entirely. He wasn't certain he wanted that. Caution was an important attribute. He only wished she weren't quite so skittish. When the warriors did leave, Avatre returned to Daijon's side, pressing close against him.

"Have you been assigned quarters, signed up for your duty?" The Academy was a big place, and it took getting used to the sprawling buildings and artificial canyons, especially for people who had grown up in a place that was flat and endless. "I could show you the way, if you don't know it."
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Kyariel


Mokiri watched her father and the other protectors head off somewhat wistfully before she nodded both to Daijon's thanks for her gift then spoke up as well to his first query "yes, I will be much more careful of things after that...just glad Django had managed to put a thrown spear in its upper jaw". Here she flinched as if remembering the wind singing past her ear from the passing of the spear. Before focusing on his next query "have not signed up yet; we were asked if we knew anyone else here and managed to explain you having the same eyes and dark skin, so we came to see you first". Then she looked confused "still not sure why they think calling myself Tribute means we are kin though...they asked if you were my older brother thanks to the blue eyes that mark us as Tribute as well".

Then her confused look turned thoughtful "depending on my partner I bond with...I might need to learn how to fight...I'd prefer to learn from you if that happens, the weapons these different folk use look far more dangerous to those not used to fighting". Finally she giggled as Avatre lipped her dress "apparently your partner likes my clothes". Things would have continued peacefully if not for a very sizeable fire dragon casting an unexpected shadow over the field as they returned from a possible scouting mission. Causing the mousy girl to inadvertently show just how very new she was to such a place.

Namely by making a noise like a startled bird and becoming a 'ball' of cloth on the grass as she sought to hide from something that wasn't even a threat. Clearly she had a ways to go in order to avoid making a fool of herself among the new folk she'd be working alongside when she bonded to a dragon. Though she probably startled poor Avatre just as badly with her abrupt motion.
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Daijon nodded his approval of her response. It was good that she had learned her lesson, at least. He could only hope she would make friends that would look out for her until she found her place in their new home. He could not, as he had stated, be with her always. His primary duty now was to Avatre.

He grinned outright at her confusion as to the assumption these easterners made of kinship. It had confused him, too, until he had managed to get someone to explain it to him.

"There are so many people here," the hunter explained, one hand twined in Avatre's dark mane. She leaned against him, a warm solid mass of cautious curiosity. "They can't keep track of bloodlines here as we do at home. They use a second name, after the first, to denote kinship. When we use our word for our duty, they think it one of these second names. So when we both use it, they think us kin. It is easier to let them think it than to explain."

If they were still in their village, Daijon would have frowned mightily at her request to learn to fight. Women at home did not fight, were not warriors. It made them no less important than the men, simply better at different tasks, and respected for what they did. As it was, in this new home, when the dragonriders that Mokiri aspired to be were soldiers, Daijon lifted his chin to show his approval.

"I would be happy to teach you our traditional weapons," Daijon agreed firmly. "Bow and spear. The Academy should provide, as you are dutybound to them." Daijon's grin softened to a smile at her mention of his lady. [/i]"She learns much from taste and touch, and her lips are sensitive."[/i]

The vast shadow that passed over them drew no reaction at all from Daijon, who had grown used to such things, though Avatre looked up to see if she knew the flier. She always did, though she knew few of the true dragons. Mokiri's reaction, on the other hand, made Daijon reach for an arrow. Before she was fully curled on the ground, his bow was strung and searching for a target. Only after a careful examination of their surroundings did he lower the weapon, releasing the tension on the string slowly.

"It was only a dragon," Daijon told her, cross because she had startled him. He scowled down at the ball that was his clanmate. Not just him, but Avatre had skittered back away from them at the noise she'd made, and snorted annoyance now that her herd-mate was calm again, her ears pressed back on her skull. "It didn't even land. And no dragon in the Academy will be a danger to you. At least overtly."
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