Private Tales Paradise Awaits

[Jezal]

Oh.

Oh, dear.

What had been a rather peaceful journey ended in chaos and bloodshed. Sixty death row convicts were equally spread across three ships, all restrained and seated in neat rows in the middle of the decks. Compared to his drab, musty cell, being under the sun and feeling the sea breeze was pleasant for Jezal. However, his fellow captives would sometimes complain, and they were lashed for that.

As their destination grew against the horizon, the crews clamored to prepare for landfall. Members of Bergson estate, sword-testers, knights, and executioners that served directly under the Crown Family, would flank the inmates as they approached the beach. Things were going according to plan until the tide suddenly changed, becoming violent and forcefully rocking the ships. The plan was broken apart further as thick vines would rope around the ships and begin to crack their sturdy hulls.

The crews would scramble to the rowboats after failing to fight the vines off. As men shouted and chaos broke out, and some convicts began to take advantage of their situation, the Bergsons responsible for them jumped into action and carried out impromptu executions. They wouldn't tolerate any disobedience or opportunism, after all. Heads rolled across the deck. One of them bumped into Jezal, who was still seated.

His executioner picked him up by his collar, barked a few words, and shoved him towards a boat. Why all the commotion? These kinds of situations need to be handled with a level head. As his thought concluded, the deck cracked apart under him. The ship began to split, its hull cracking as the vines coiled and destroyed his ship. The immortal lost his footing and slid across the deck, hitting his head on something and blacking out. That was that.

Jezal woke up several hours later, having washed up on the island, immediately feeling a splitting headache. Still alive. The man sighed and sat up. He looked down at himself. His clothes were ripped and bloodstained, but he was uninjured. Without much direction or energy, Jezal pushed himself to his feet and wandered inland.

 

[Trista]

"Aiya!!"

"Aiyaa!!"

"AiyaaAAaa!"
​

Her niece's cries sent Aiyana's basket clattering to the rocks; what oysters and mussels she'd foraged from the glittering pools went scraping and scattering back into the glittering pools as she turned and ran as deftly across the ragged terrain as she could.

"Lowanna?!"

She'd left them both on the beach and they'd promised her they'd stay put. Adrenaline made her entire body sing with the desire to move faster, and so she did. Her bare feet hit sand and she wove through the copse of palms onto the little cove where her niece, as promised, had not moved an inch.

{"Lo? What is it? Where is your brother?"} she asked, her chest heaving with each panicked breath as she spun on her heels, her dark eyes scanning the trees and rocks furiously.

{"Aiyana, look!"} Koa's voice 'whispered' from above, the child having climbed up into a palm where he'd remained after he'd spotted the ships on the horizon. Aiyana followed his pointed finger to the crystalline waters and her lips parted for a brief moment of perplexity. The ships, all three of them, were heading toward them.

{"Koa, get down."} she said sternly and lifted his younger sister, setting her onto her feet. {"Take your sister home, tell your mother and Jarrah. People are coming."}

As though she'd described some monstrous beast, the children's eyes widened. {"What people, Aiya?.."} Lowanna asked, a tremble of fear in her little voice. Aiyana swept a hand over her hair and she offered a reassuring smile as she looked down at her. {"I don't know, Lo. Don't be afraid, just take your brother's hand and get home, quick now."} The two children nodded uncertainly and did as she asked, and in the meantime Aiyana rushed to higher ground. Her cheeks were flushed by the time she'd climbed to the top of the rocky peak that gave her a view of the beach below, and from there, she watched.

She watched as the ships were destroyed, their wreckages joining a few others in adding to the reef. She could hear the sounds of frantic men travel across the water and she saw the bodies float on the water and be dragged in by the tide. More frighteningly, she watched as men, some in chains, crawled their way onto the sands to empty their lungs of the sea water that had failed to drown them.

Aiyana counted the living. Ten, fourteen, twenty, twenty eight... Some gathered into small groups, others started heading off on their own, prompting a curse to fall from her lips. She had to leave, and though there would be little chance of keeping track of them, at least she knew how many there were. Her heart stumbled as one of the men looked up toward the peak and she swiftly ducked behind a rock. By the time she peeked out, he was gone, and Aiyana made her descent as quickly and as quietly as she could.

 

[Jezal]

What happened at sea was catastrophic, and the fact that at least twenty-eight survived was a miracle. How many others, like Jezal, had washed up away from the others? As he pushed his way through dense foliage, the immortal thought of such useless things. He was grateful that he hadn't been stuck with the Bergsons. They were a unique bunch but more loyal to the Crown than any others. Any convicts who had made it ashore on the lifeboats would find themselves stuck with the knights to complete their task. It was likely that more Bergsons than convicts survived the incident offshore, minimizing any chances for a mutiny. For now.

As was the manner for these things, Jezal concluded his thoughts just a person darted through the jungle several paces ahead of him. Not all prisoners were bad or guilty. Didn't take a genius to figure that one out. He'd seen several innocents imprisoned and sent to the chopping block. It was almost sad. This one, though, bald, scarred, with ill intent behind that focused gaze of his- he was terrible and undoubtedly guilty of whatever crime they imprisoned him for.

Jezal, against his better instinct, followed the man's tracks. The terrain was uneven, and before he knew it, he couldn't even see the sea behind him through the thick jungle. Then, as he caught up, he heard a struggle ahead.

["Come on,"] the inmate said in a foreign tongue, his voice a gravelly rasp, ["Pretty little thing..."]

For the time being, Jezal remained low under a plant with large, drooping leaves.

["Come on!"] the man hissed. He'd lunged at her once, missed, and grew incredibly frustrated incredibly quickly. ["Bitch!"]

 

[Trista]

He'd come out of nowhere, barrelling into her with such force that the momentum had sent them both rolling several feet only to be halted by rocks. The brute's grappling hands were bruising as she struggled free, managing to throw her elbow into his face not once but twice before he relented and let her go, but she'd only sparked a more violent rage in him.

She didn't understand his tongue, and he wouldn't understand hers either. Not that she had to understand what he was saying to know that he meant her harm. Even if conversing was possible she doubted that it would do her much good. She wasn't armed either. The only need she'd ever had to hold a blade was cutting back foliage or preparing food.

Aiyana backed away, her form half crouched and well balanced, her muscles tensed and ready to flee. He blocked the only quick path as he staggered to his feet again, blood flooding from his nose and into his mouth, staining what little teeth he had and making his sinister grin all the more garish. Again he made a grab for her and she stepped aside, now cornered though she was sure it was his intention.

Lowering herself a little more, her shaking hand found purchase on a rock larger than her fist, her knuckles paling as she gripped it and held it up slightly in mute warning, her sharp breaths hissing through gritted teeth.

 

[Jezal]

The sixty inmates had been assigned a ranking based on numerous things; the severity of their crime (though most of them had committed many), skills and abilities, reputation, and overall threat. The Bergsons, a large family, also happened to have a ranking system of their own. They were unique in the sense that most members of the family were not blood-related. Of the entire clan, there was the Patriarch, the Main Line, and the Disciples. The Main Line consisted of sixteen Bergsons that are seen as potential heirs to the mantle of Patriarch. Their skills and knowledge in their respective fields are considerable. The Disciples were too inexperienced or lacked the talent to enter the Main Line. All were formidable fighters.

It just so happened that of the sixty inmates, number forty-nine, Emilio Rios Lujan Blancos, was the one that had seen the native girl. He was unremarkable but brutal and had killed many, many unsuspecting people before finally being apprehended.

["Scary,"] he mocked her, his beady eyes switching between the rock and her face, ["Scary and pretty."] His tongue flicked over his lips, and he smiled a red, gap-toothed smile. Forty-nine struggled to breathe as the two elbow strikes had utterly shattered his nose.

Meanwhile, Jezal took in deep breaths.

No.

He breathed in again.

Not like that.

And again.

There we are.

It was like electricity crackled in his heart and shot up his veins to the very tips of his fingers and toes. It had been countless years since he'd put his breathing techniques into practice. Jezal kicked off from the dirt where he crouched, flinging soil high up into the air and dashing out from the foliage like a predator lunging on its prey. He was a blur, and when he finally stopped, it was next to Forty-nine. Jezal struck the man's face so quickly his fist cracked against the air like a whip, and when his knuckles met the side of the bald man's face, a sound like thunder rippled across the jungle.

Emilio Rios Lujan Blancos, killer of one hundred and twenty women, was struck so violently that his limp corpse careened through the air. His body twisted mid-air, the sputtering hole where half of his face had once been spurted blood in magnificent fashion until he clattered against a nearby tree. His body unceremoniously crumpled into an unmoving pile of contorted limbs.

Jezal, who breathed in a very particular and steady rhythm, stood up as straight as he could, but he'd taken on a nasty slouch over his many years of imprisonment and turned his attention to the native.

"You," he flatly addressed her, "Can you understand me?"

 

[Trista]

The startled cry she made rang out only to be dwarfed by the sickening sound of a human skull being destroyed by one indomitable blow. Aiyana had dropped into a crouch, the rock she'd held thudding to the ground as she slammed her hands to her ears, though she was too stupefied to let her eyes close even as a few spatters of bloods peppered her face. Instead she stared as the body of the man's lip body flew into the tree and landed in a heap, his pulverised face barely recognisable as the one that'd been grinning at her only seconds before. It seemed to stare back at her all the same, and nausea churned in her stomach.

The unfamiliar voice dragged her mind back to the reality that she was now alone with another, apparently more dangerous foreigner. Her gaze snapped up at him, her brow furrowing slightly at his words. She remained silent for a moment until her fingers found the rock she'd dropped and she curled it into her palm, her body straightening slightly as once again, she readied herself to flee.

She held up a hand as she took a step back. {"Don't you come near me...Or I will hit you with this rock.."} she warned quietly in her own tongue, lifting the stone in her hand to emphasise what she was saying. Her accent was as the land she was born to, warm and sweet, though with something distinctly dangerous hiding just under the surface.

{"I am going now."} she pointed through the trees. {"You, go.."} she pointed back to the sea and waved him toward it as she took another step toward her path home.

 

[Jezal]

Jezal frowned, and his shoulders dejectedly slumped. Of course. As was the manner for these things, this quaint native girl spoke in her quaint native tongue that was unlike anything even Jezal had heard.

He hardly looked threatening with his sunken cheeks and thin wrists. His prisoner's rags were like a baggy cloak over his thin frame. The pain of hunger always tore at his stomach, but it would never kill him.

Jezal held his hands out at the girl as she backed away. He waved his hands, urging her to wait. Then, after a pause, he brought his hands close to his chest and began to play charades with the little island girl.

First, he spooned food from an invisible bowl, then made a pleading gesture by clasping his hands together. Jezal gestured to himself, punched at the air, and pointed at the nearby corpse. To really get the message across, he began spooning invisible food from the invisible bowl into his mouth.

 

[Trista]

At least this one wasn't grinning at her like a wild beast. Her deep brown eyes were polished amber as the sun sat low, casting golden hues and long shadows across the jungle floor. Aiya looked perfectly at home here, her skin bronzed and her feet bare, her hair in a long, loose braid with a blue feather that tickled at her jaw in the breeze. She wore a simple dress of wrapped leathers that clung tightly to her torso and hung loose, covering what had to be covered but leaving her long legs free to run and climb.

She studied him too. Everything about him was strange. The gaunt, angular features, the paleness of his skin, the strange clothes he wore and the way he spoke. Though, she glanced at the growing pool of dark blood around the corpse's head and reminded herself that whether or not he looked dangerous, he'd quite clearly evidenced that he was whether he had a weapon or not.

Aiyana was still moving back, slowly albeit. Her lashes narrowed as he mimed to her. He was hungry, and he was reminding her that she was indebted to him. Aiya's jaw clenched and she harshly pointed back toward the sea.

{"There. Go there!"} she straightened and stamped a foot, a little bite in her tone. That he couldn't catch his own food was nonsense. {"Food - there, look.."} she continued to point in frustration and growled as she began doing some mimes of her own. {"Sea..Fish.."} she gestured, her hand making a motion like sea waves before wriggling like a fish would swim. Of course, he had no spear, and she huffed again.

{"Ah - crab, yes? Snip snip?"} she dropped the rock to mimic crab claws with a little 'click click click' sound with her tongue and imitated his 'invisible spoon, invisible bowl' gesture, but she paused mid invisible scoop when she heard gruff voices nearby.

"Where the fuck did he go?" one of them growled irritably.

Again, the rock found itself back in her grasp as she dropped low to the ground, her eyes frantically scanning her surroundings and poised herself to make a run for it.

 

[Jezal]

The prisoner slowly twisted to face where she pointed. His permanent frown contorted into a grimace. He'd expended all of that energy trying to communicate his needs, and what he got in return was a temper tantrum and those... ridiculous hand gestures.

He didn't quite understand what she was trying to convey, just that whatever it was wasn't what he'd requested. Finally, tired and annoyed, Jezal faced her again.

"Where the fuck did he go?"

Accompanying the nearby voice was the rustling of leaves and cracking of branches. Bergson? Convict? Neither of them would be keen to find out.

Jezal hissed at the girl, quietly snapping his fingers at her to draw her attention.

A quick point at her, then to himself. He linked his forefingers together and held her gaze.

 

[Trista]

Her attention snapped back toward him, indignation interrupting her look of wild fear for a brief moment as he hissed and snapped his fingers at her. She glanced toward a snapping twig and flinched, her gaze darting back toward this one as he made more hand gestures.

She understood, but she looked around as though she could physically find some other option in her immediate surroundings. Why had he separated himself from the others? Why had he killed one of them, and why was he hiding from these two now?

Her heart raced a little faster with every question and every rustling sound that grew closer and closer. It was run and be chased down like a pig, or trust a murderous stranger. Finally she returned her attention to the prisoner and nodded quickly in agreement. They would stick together, she would find him food.

Now what? .. She stared at him expectantly as the heavy footfalls were almost upon them. There was little way they could run without being heard or spotted..

 

[Jezal]

Now what? Jezal's thoughts echoed the native's. He breathed in deep and knelt, placing his hand flat against the earth. He could feel it. Hear it. The staccato of clattering armor. The strong heart beats, growing ever closer. Closing his eyes, he could sense all the life that surrounded them, from the incoming men to the tiniest animals burrowed in the underbrush.

With a sharp exhale, he exited his trance and waved at his temporary companion. He pointed in the direction he came from and held up four fingers. Without knowing which Bergsons approached them made it difficult to decide: fight or flee?

The pair were lightly dressed. She knew this land, and he felt confident he could keep up.

Jezal began his odd rhythmic breathing and stood to join Aiyana's side, slapping his left thigh and holding a thumb up. He gave her a light push to urge her to move, and he followed closely behind her. If the push wouldn't motivate her, the shouting men behind them certainly would.

 

[Trista]

Aiyana's brow furrowed briefly as she watched him with a mix of trepidation and curiosity as he seemed to listen to his surroundings. She had no idea to what extent however. With a slight tilt of her head, she watched as he pointed, the fingers he held up she understood as how many of the men were approaching and with a glance toward the sounds she gave a slow nod.

Still, whether he had stopped that first lunatic from attacking her or not, she would not trust a single soul that came to her home on those ships and she tensed, shifting back a little as he moved closer to her. She didn't understand why he was slapping himself or what his thumb was supposed to mean, but she understood the shove and she frowned. The islander seemed to consider for a moment, looking down one last time at the mutilated face of the dead man and allowing herself one shudder before she pushed fear aside.

She stared at him for a moment before giving a quick nod as the loud voices grew closer. A breath filled her lungs, and in an instant she was sprinting through the foliage and through the root-tangled labyrinth of trees and rocks which she leapt. She was agile, fast and clearly used to navigating the terrain.

Aiyana didn't bother to look back. Whether or not he could keep up wasn't her problem, but she was running farther and farther from home. She wouldn't lead these men anywhere near the village, and she could only pray that the children had reached it in time to warn their people. Aiyana would need to survive on her own for now.

Their incline came to its peak when they reached a ravine, a flush cliff face that promised a quick death on the river's jagged rocks a hundred or so feet below. The fallen moss and vine-covered tree that she used to cross wasn't very thick, requiring one foot in front of the other and a more careful pace. Aiyana crossed it within seconds before finally turning to look back as she reached the other side.

 

[Jezal]

Running through the jungle laboring to keep up with the native who darted ahead with little effort, Jezal noted how it felt several pieces of the world were gathered to this one spot. Rare flowers found only at the highest peaks of The Spine. There were species of plants that appeared in the farthest reaches of the world and trees native to the Falwood. These things shouldn't have survived on the island. An uneasy feeling twisted in his gut.

As he caught up, breaking out from the treeline into the clearing before the ravine, Jezal saw she'd already made it partway across the canyon. To this, the lines of his face sunk into an even deeper frown than what he'd typically wear.

"Horse shit," he hissed under his breath as he began to tip-toe across the tree. Slipping on a patch of moss, Jezal fell forward and caught himself. Grunting in frustration, he shimmied the rest of the way on his hands and knees, and just as he made it across, a small group of knights led by an exceptionally tall and seeming aged man emerged from the jungle.

He was broad-shouldered, with a head of thick blonde hair and a long beard braided into three lengths. Sunlight danced off his white and gold plate armor, and the man seemed to possess a divine impurity to him. At full stretch, he raised his hand to the sky. The canopy of the jungle behind Aiyana and Jezal rustled as a strong gust blew past them. The sunlight they stood in glowed brighter and hotter than before.

"Jezal Quai!" shouted the knight, "Take not another step, lest you forfeit your life!"

"Eat shit and die!" Turning, Jezal snatched the native's wrist and darted into the foliage. A moment later, and they would have been caught in the explosion of starfire that rained down from the sky.

Beams of light shot down from the sky at random all around them. Jezal's eardrums rang, and the explosions rattled his bones, but he kept a vice-like grip on Aiyana's wrist.

 

[Trista]

Her chest heaved with each greedy breath as she watched the mainlander assess the makeshift bridge. It was not for the faint hearted, nor the clumsy footed. Her hand rose up and gently gestured downward, beckoning him to go slow, and the same hand shot out when he slipped, as though it had some sort of power to stop him falling. Her eyes squeezed shut and a breath caught audibly in her throat as she turned her head away.

She heard no scream, and the breath escaped in a huff as she slowly opened her eyes to see that he was still there. {"Sloooow.."} she said with a frown. Again, whether or not he fell was no pips out of her pomegranate, but they were both apparently running from the same people, and she had no desire to see anyone plunging to their imminent death.

The easing of her tension was a brief moment between the stranger crossing safely, and the appearance of more men at the other side. Her gaze wandered over them and settled on the tallest of them with a feeling of instant trepidation. Fear was not something she was accustomed to. Her life here was peaceful, her people were good people, and she knew enough about surviving in this land that nothing about it could frighten her. But this one in his metal clothes, she couldn't help but stare timorously at.

Aiyana watched him as he appeared to summon power and she felt her heart stumble in her chest as everything grew brighter and hotter. She had already taken a step back when she felt the hand clamp around her wrist and although she flinched, she was ready to run.

The sound rattled deep into her bones. It shook rocks free to plummet into the ravine and send plumes of colourful birds into the air from their halcyon canopies, sending a shockwave of chaos across the jungle. Aiyana let out an audible gasp and a panicked whine at the spears of light that hurtled from the skies, but she ran hard, now on reedy decline to the western cove of the island.

There were around two dozen crumbling huts on the beach, tucked into pockets of foliage, sat up in the rocks and a few tree houses. The little village had been long since abandoned, it's roofs of thatched palm leaves and bark had collapsed in on most, and those closest to the sea had been corroded away by the salt.

{"This way - move quick."} Aiyana said breathily, tugging the man toward one of the larger huts. Inside were traces of life that were now thick with dirt. Aiyana lifted a bamboo rug to reveal a hatch and a ladder leading down into darkness. {"Hide, yes?.."} she covered her face with her hand and then moved it away again. {"Hide."} she said again, and pointed to the hatch.

 

[Jezal]

It must've been Leonard Bergson; The Lion, they called him. A man with such power that he could grasp the sun's wrath and rain down hell on his foes. A man that has seen all that there is to see and experienced all that there is to experience. The most well-known and feared Bergson.

And he was only third in line for succession.

As beams of starlight screamed down around them, Jezal sputtered an incredulous laugh under the deafening booms. He'd only heard stories about the Bergson's Main Line, but this was something else entirely. The stories hardly did the real thing justice.

When the pair broke out into the cove, Jezal groaned. Before his internal bitching and moaning began, the native girl pulled him out of his thoughts, urging him into one of the dilapidated bungalows. Listlessly, Jezal followed her. Undeath did that kind of thing to a person. He would be fine eventually, but Leonard Bergson would burn her into a well-done crisp before she could even feel her skin bubble. At least it would be a quick death for her, but he would have to suffer agonizing burns for Heavens knows how long-

Oh.

There was a hole in the earth.

{"Hide!"} he echoed the word with feigned enthusiasm. "Yes!" he mocked, "this will ab-so-lutely work."

Rolling his eyes, Jezal descended into the unknown. It was a tight space, and the pair were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. For a short while, everything was quiet. Then, suddenly, they would hear a deafening shrill followed by a violent rumbling that caused loose dirt to crumble from the ceiling onto them. The rumbling continued for a painfully long fifteen seconds.

As they would climb out, they would see that the coastal village had been reduced to ashes, and the knights had left.

"Huh. It absolutely worked," Jezal, hands on his hips, mused aloud.

 

[Trista]

She didn't have to understand his words to know that he was mocking her. Aiyana huffed as his eyes rolled and she gave him a contemptuous glare, pointing insistently to the old store. The meat that they'd once stored down here had long since gone, but the smell of blood still clung to the soil that ribbed the little shelved compartment.

For a while, she could barely see a thing and all she could hear were their breaths until the strident explosion of sound had her hands slamming to her ears and she grimaced with a quiet cry in fear ,barely audible above the rumbling as dirt rained down atop them. Even with the lid pulled firmly shut, the intense light spilled through the gaps in dusty beams, illuminating the bewildered panic on her face. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew it was no natural quake. Her eyes closed tightly and her lips moved quickly as she muttered prayers to her Gods until the tremulous sound ceased and she froze, her chest and shoulders rising and falling in quick, sharp breaths.

Aiyana looked to the man in the darkness, watching as he climbed up first and waiting a few pounding beats before she decided to follow, cautiously. Her mouth gaped as she stepped out onto a carpet of ash, her eyes glistening as she looked around at the devastation. The village was old and none had lived here for a decade, but fear twisted in her gut and she looked back at the man with a flash of anger.

{"Who are you people?! What is he?"} she demanded, reaching a hand out to grip at his coat. {"What are you doing here?"} she growled in a venom coated string of words that he wouldn't understand. If that knight found her village, the one her people actually occupied..

{"You go find him! You kill him and leave!"} she pointed insistently into the jungle and back to the sea.

 

[Jezal]

His coat. Generous to call it that. Really, it was just a filthy cloak over his prison uniform. Jezal knew much about the human anatomy, and by helping a guard several years ago with some lower back pain, he'd received it as a form of compensation. Nothing could help with the hunger, but at least he'd been a little less cold with it.

Jezal's head slumped, and he let slip an exhausted sigh as she flew into a frenzy. Beautiful, angry women had always been a weakness of his, but what he absolutely couldn't stand was a naggy one. And, well, nagging transcended language barriers. She was very clearly screaming something at him.

"Good grief," he said, lifting his head so he could meet her gaze. "I am a victim just as you are, you know. I did not bring these warmongers here." Not that she could even understand his reasoning, nor did she seem in the mood for it.

"Food," he said, making the gesture. "And drink," he gestured for that, too. "Then I will be gone," he curtly and dismissively waved his left hand once.

 

[Trista]

She studied him with a look of urgency as he spoke, as though watching his lips move might gain her a better understanding of what he was saying. It didn't, of course, and she sneered as she shoved him back when she understood his gestures.

{"Are you kidding me?! This is not the time to eat!"} she hissed and turned away from him, shaking her head and running her hands into her hair. Her eyes closed and she pulled in a few deep breaths of salted air, but it was violated by the scent of smoke and something metallic that she couldn't place.

{"Shit.."} she growled the word in such a way there was little doubt in what it meant. She kicked at the charred ground and turned to stride passed toward the trees, muttering to herself as she went, trying to assure herself that her village would be alright. It was well hidden, somewhere deep in the thickest part of the jungles and high up too. It took effort to get there, and she doubted these men would find the path to their liking.

Still, there were creatures far worse than themselves that they'd have to worry about, particularly as the light started to fade. Aiyana had broken a long branch from the fallen bough of a tree and quickly started chiselling one end of it into a sharp point with her knife. If she had to spend a night or two outside the safety of her village, she was going to need a little more protection.

 

[Jezal]

She was strong, and she shoved him forcefully. To this, Jezal smiled. If all the women of this island were so pretty and strong, perhaps he would be smiling more soon. He watched her back as she breathed in, filled herself with air, then abruptly stopped. If only they could exchange words, he would show her a better way to breathe.

He followed her from a safe distance and tilted her head as she began to work on the branch. The prisoner couldn't help but breathe a chuckle.

"You saw what he did, and you think a stick-... Ah, why do I bother?"

Jezal suddenly stepped in front of her and waved his hands. He gestured to himself. "Jezal." Another gesture. "Jezal."

 

[Trista]

Aiyana looked over her shoulder to glower at him as he laughed. His amusement was the same in any language, and she didn't much appreciate it.

"Blehleleh..." she mocked him back with a huff as she continued to shave the wood into a sharp point.

{"Yes, Jeh-zal, I am not an imbecile."} she waved a hand at him in the same manner as he had done to her to make a point.

"Ai-ya-na." she said and handed the sharpened stick to him. {"We need to defend ourselves, yes?" Here."} she gestured insistently.

 

[Jezal]

Ai-ya-na. "Oh," Jezal quietly exclaimed. So the girls' names here were as pretty as they are. As respectfully as he could, he refused the improvised spear. The man was a master in many ways of life-taking. When he had a full stomach, anyways. What he'd done before to protect her from the other convict was pure luck.

Again, he gestured for food. Another for drink.

 

[Trista]

Aiyana's deep brown eyes stared at him when he refused the spear, quickly glancing over him in search of any other weapons. She supposed, he hadn't needed a weapon to kill the other man before. A sharp huff escaped her nose, her lips pressing into a thin line that twisted uncertainly.

{"Fine."} she shrugged, her brows rising. {"Fine. But don't come trying to steal mine."} she wagged a finger at him and turned away from him, her thick braid of hair whipping around her shoulder with an attitude all of its own.

She strode purposefully toward the water, her spear in tow, muttering to herself about men and whether their brains existed either in their stomachs or some place lower. Despite her stormy mood she barely disturbed the slow lapping sea as she walked into it, her movements fluid and well practised so as not to frighten whatever fish poached for insects near the shore.

For a moment, she was perfectly still, her eyes on one spot on the water as she waited for the sight of silvery scales to cross it. She didn't have to wait long before a split-second flash of movement saw the spear drive down into the water and emerge victorious with a large sea trout skewered on its tip. Quietly, she thanked the sea for its gift before turning to wade out of the water and back to Jezal.

{"There. Happy?"} she asked, plucking the fish from the end of her spear by the tail and thrusting it out toward him. {"Now come on, before it gets dark.."} she grumbled and gestured for him to follow her along the shore toward the sea caves in the cove.

 

[Jezal]

The fish's dead eyes coldly stared through Jezal as he carefully held it in his cupped hands.

Me too, friend.

He followed Aiyana, glancing upwards to get a read on the approximate time. They'd left the prison when it was dark, made sight of the island in the morning, and it was nearing dark again. Just how long had he been unconscious? Jezal, unsurprisingly, frowned at this.

They settled into a small cave at one end of the cove, and before he began to help with anything else, he sat at the mouth, cross-legged, and stared out over the sea as the sunset. For several minutes, Jezal breathed in the pure air. He could feel his Eight Points open and spread warmth throughout his body. The breathing exercise he'd neglected for years came back to him as if he'd never left them behind. Anyways, it would be to their benefit if he were to shake the rust off. Aside from the knights, he hardly knew what other dangers lurked on the mysterious island, but he could feel something incredibly ominous all around him.

After a while, he stood up and began a routine of stretches, then started a pattern of slow, fluid motions as if he were practicing the steps of a dance. After all of that, he turned his attention to the fish, and the tiny fire the native girl had started. He joined her by it.

 

[Trista]

She had used the little cave before, several times in fact. A circle of rocks that surrounded a pile of charcoal sat near the back where little of the ocean breeze could reach. Aiyana busied herself as though the mainlander was not there and had muttered away in a quiet rant to herself about doing everything herself as she cleared the pit and filled it with new driftwood and dead seagrass.

It was then she realised that he seemed to be in some sort of routine, her eyes following his movements with curiosity as she deftly gutted and filleted the fish. The meat had been speared and was cooking nicely over the small flame by the time he joined her, and Aiyana's head tilted with a small frown.

{"What was that?.."} she asked with the lilt of a question, gesturing to the mouth of the cave and trying to mimic him by waving her arms in the air. She was used to dancing, her people did it often, but his movements were different. Everything about him was different.

{"For your Gods?"} she arched a brow, pointing to the roof of the cave and clasping her hands together. Did he have Gods? She huffed quietly, unsure why she was bothering to talk to him at all, even if he understood what she was asking, she couldn't understand his answer..

"Jeh-zal." she nodded. There, a word they both understood. "Aiyana." she added. Two words. Progress.

{"Fish."} she said, wiggling her hand in a swimming motion again and pointing to the meat.

 

[Jezal]

Jezal salivated as he breathed in the smell of cooking fish. The kindling quietly crackled as the fish's skin cooked to crispy perfection. He looked to Aiyana as she spoke to him, quizzically raising a brow at her first question and shaking his head at the second.

"Jeh-zal," He blankly stared at her. "Aiyana."

"Aiyana," he repeated, accurately copying her accent. Her language was admittedly a beautiful one, but nothing like he'd ever heard.

As she played charades and pointed at their meal, he smirked. "Fish."

Yeah, fish. Shouldn't be much longer, and he'd finally get some real food in him.