Private Tales Sand in the Wind

[Teriteqas]

Teriteqas could feel the warmth of the day flowing over his feet. Each step pressing into the desert sands. Cloth covered every inch of his skin with only his eyes visible. Jerboas slept in their places against his skin beneath breathable safety. He looked to the sky. A few starving clouds slowly drifted by. The wind suddenly picked up blowing sand into his eyes. He quickly cast them down and began to try to rub the coarse grains out. A large cluster of rocks were nearby. He went to them for shelter as a sandstorm began to get whipped into life. Safe from it, his mind began to wander. A day while wandering decades ago early into his journey. It was shortly after his first jerboa companion had taken his clothing for its home....

====================

The waters of the oasis were cool and cold and life giving. They were sacred to the Abtati. They were sacred to the Nafas. They were sacred to Teriteqas. His hood wrap, gloves, and boots had been removed. Laid neatly nearby along with his weapons, the sand elf stepped out into the waters. In the shallows he sat down on his knees. Water flowed up to his waist. Cool and cold, it fought off the heat of the day. He lowered his head and brought his hands in front of him pressed against each other pointing towards the wind and the sky. Eyes closed he offered prayers to Abtatu. Right hand moved to dip fingers into the water. Flick they sent droplets into the air as sacrifices and the offering of first drink to his god. Then the fingers scooped and brought water up to his lips. Slowly he drank, offering more praise for the gift of life.

With the first drink offered and his thirst sated, Teriteqas bowed his entire torso into the waters. Completely he dunked his head down and bowed under the surface. He pulled himself up and then slowly rose to his feet. He walked back to the water's edge. A jerboa had found its way out of his wrap and began to drink from the bank. The wind picked up suddenly. The sand elf whipped his head to face it. High above the sky was becoming tan. A storm was brewing quickly and heading their way.

Teriteqas hurried to his belongings as he spoke to his companion to hurry. He did not bother to cover himself back up and just looked for a place to hide. There was little cover outside of the waters itself. A few, low clumps of grass clung a short ways from the bank, but would soon be overcome. No good answer was presenting itself. Then he noticed the outcropping of rocks on the other side of the oasis from him. He picked up the little fluff and sprinted as fast as he could for it.

Faster and faster the wind grew and little grains of sand began to grow in number with it. Teriteqas could feel it already beginning to sting on his bare skin and so was more than willing to slide into the shelter of stone without looking inside first. Rough stone meet side and got a wince from him. He might bruise and might have broken some skin. But he and his little companion were now safe from the sandstorm that was roaring outside.

 

[Fieravene]

He would not hear the frantic hoofbeats of a lone rider blazing across the sands. Nor would he likely be able to glean the distant groaning of the storm above the gale of winds that swept in through the oasis. Yet his blood might tingle, his heart might sing, in recognition of a power most fierce descending upon the dunes with a might as intense as a hundred thousand warriors.

Fiera laid low against her steed as its legs bled along the churning terrain, her head tucked low within her arms as she urged it forward with haste. The beast had already thundered across the wastes at a speed so fast its heart should have given out - it could not press any faster.

"Shit-" a chance look back saw a glimpse of the furious sand heathen now just off her back, and within that split moment it had overtaken her with a roar. Sand surged up to swallow her horse's steps and the beast broken down, throwing its rider freely through the air and into the small oasis. She flipped, tumbled, and smacked bodily against a giant boulder, loosing a yell of equal parts pain and aggravation.

The earth trembled as the demon storm fell directly upon them, wailing in her ears and tossing the black-clad figure about.

She staggered and caught herself, looking up into the eye with a sneer hidden behind a black sash that covered her face.

Do you want me?!

The rider called out to the storm. It groaned furiously back, slashing her with biting sand.

No,

a gravelly laugh,

you want what was taken.

Well I don't have them!

HE DOES.

HARAMENON.​

The storm screamed in rage, smashed her against a stone and curiously sputtered on the spot like a tornado that'd lost it's gale. The sands slowed, the winds died, and with as much ferocity and urgency as it had appeared the sandstorm dissipated leaving the oasis nearly buried and the black rider flat out at the base of the stone.

 

[Teriteqas]

The winds of sand were never pleasant experiences for the Nafas, or any Abtati tribe. One either was caught out and forced to find hasty shelter or to stay within their tents. Either way, it made you stuck to one place against your will. The nomadic blood in Teriteqas was screaming to be released already even though the storm had just began.

The elf's body was covered in sand, but not in the normal way. Normally it was dry and easy to just shake off. He had soaked himself right before so it now clung to him like clay. He felt weighed down and heavy. Nimble and light like the wind was how he should be. It was the core teaching of his tribe's survival and martial traditions. It made him wish he had never entered the waters of the oasis. But he had to. It was his ways. The Nafas' rituals in praise of Abtatu must always be upheld. He would just have to deal with feeling wrong until the breath allowed him to be right once again.

With no real way to deal with the damp sand, Teriteqas settled for just getting his head cleaned up. The wrap went back around it to protect from any potential blow backs of sand. And then he just waited....

Eventually the sandstorm past. Once the howling stopped the elf gathered his belongings and exited his shelter. Outside he found the oasis to be much in the shape he expected: sand everywhere. It had gotten blown into the waters and coated the plants. What he had not expected however was to find a stranger against the outside stone of his shelter. Instinctively his hand moved to his dagger hilt, but he stopped himself from drawing it. His people were outcasts amongst outcasts and he was the most isolated of them all. Strangers were often more dangers than friends.... But the teachings of Abtatu were clear. If one had a guest they must do all they could for them. He might not have a tent but all of Amol-kalit belonged to the Abtati. This stranger blown in by the wind was a test from Abtatu and he was to show her the hospitality she was due as his guest.

Teriteqas sighed softly into his wrap and lifted his hand from his hilt. He set his belongings in a spot off to the side then went over to Fieravene . Holding a hand down towards her he said in his people's tongue, "Your hand Windwalker."

 

[Fieravene]

She'd managed to right herself despite the pain and exhaustion of her body. Sitting slumped against the stone was better than a face full of sand anyway and, if she were honest with herself, there were sand in places it had no right to be.

Of all the hells on earth it was the desert she hated the most. Hated the sand. Coarse, rough, and it got everywhere. The dark elf was very much looking forward to a reprieve from the sun and a chance to strip out of every ounce of material she wore if for nothing more than to rid herself of the sand.

"Your hand, Windwalker."

The words were weirdly familiar. A dialect of a language she knew in her heart but for the life of her his accent made it nearly impossible to understand. Wait, who was talking?

Red eyes blazed open, blinking away the bleary fatigue of the last four days to take in the tattered silks and linens of a ... an elf. A-something. Abernathi elf. That sounded right. Maybe.

"Wind-walker," she mimicked back at him, reaching a gloved hand up to take his own and, assuming he meant to haul her to her feet, allowed him to do so without any fuss before promptly crumpling back into the sand.

"I ... seem to have lost my legs ..." so much for windwalking.

 

[Teriteqas]

Teriteqas had indeed offered Fieravene his hand to help her to her feet. After she fell back to the ground, he just moved closer to her. His hands and feet were still bare to reveal the caramel colored skin normally hidden by cloth and leather. He could understand her words but the way she spoke them was as unfamiliar to him as the idea of an ocean of water. Truly it must be a myth crafted by strangers and less than friendly Abtati tribes.

"Like the Dawn carries the sun, so shall I you." Teriteqas responded. It was a bit of his tribal religious lessons. How long had it been since he spoke with another? Even he was aware of how awkward it was. Regardless he bent down to pick his guest up off the sand.

The Windwalker was lighter than he had expected her to be. As use to the rather heavy members of his tribe from well toned muscles, Fieravene might as well be a child. He found a clump of oasis grass near the water's edge and dusted the sand off of it as best as he could with his foot. Gently he brought her down onto it to rest. Softer and cooler than sand at the very least.

"Do you thirst or hunger Windwalker? Any place in pain?" Teriteqas asked in his native tongue yet again. Even for an Abtati it sounded like sand rubbing together in the wind. Still he stood with his focus on her as he waited. At least they were at this oasis rather than a ruin or the open sands right now. Abtatu was forgiving this day.

 

[Fieravene]

"Just my entire corporeal being," Fiera responded in common with a groan as she shifted on the tuft of grass, "don't fuss, I'll be fine. Water ...if you're offering." Her own waterskins had been attached to her horse. Wasn't that a flying shame.

Reaching up to pull the material wrapping from her face and off her head, Fiera gingerly shook her hair free of sand and gave the man a wilting stare. Tanned skin, strange elven dialect. Definitely a dunetreader. She'd say more once she knew he could understand common. Presently her head was pounding too hard to recall the dialect of his language.

 

[Teriteqas]

Abtatu give him strength. Teriteqas was just not use to others anymore. Don't fuss? Then she asks for water? This woman blown in on the wind was going to be sand beneath his cloths. She did mention how her body was hurting however and if she was thirsty then she would be hungry soon enough. He was bound to caring for his guest fully as well. This was going to be a long day.

Teritrqas gave Fieravene a nod in response then went back over to his belongings. He picked up his water skin and gave it a squeeze. Half full. The oasis was right there so he might as well make sure she had fresh water. He pulled his cloth wrap apart just enough his lips were exposed between it. First he offered up a prayer to Abtatu then poured the water out onto some nearby plants. After he walked back out into the oasis waters and dunked it deep below the surface to where the cooler water could be found.

The sand elf waited until the skin was full then pulled it out. Once plugged back up he headed back to his guest. He recovered his lips as he did. He handed the now wet, cool waterskin over to Fieravene. "From deep below, fresh and cool the waters of life spring forth."

Again with quoting the scriptures. Teriteqas needed to stop doing that. She was no abtati. She was just some strange elf that had walked in with the wind.

Without saying another word, he went back over to the plants he had earlier poured the old contents of his waterskin on. He dug them up out of the soil so that he had roots and all. By the time he was done he had roughly three small weed looking things in his hands. He retrieved his mortar and pestle from his belongings then went back to his guest. He placed the first plant into the pestle then added a bit of fresh oasis water before he began to grind it up into a paste.

As Teriteqas did this he asked, "Where is the worst of the pain?"

 

[Fieravene]

It had been a while since Fiera had come across a desert elf and she couldn't say if they were quite as peculiar as this one. He seemed young - clearly well versed in the ways of the desert as well as the verses of his scriptures, but inexperienced in ... well, most everything else. The first impression simply struck her as odd. No matter, she'd taken advantage of their hospitality before and she would indeed be doing so again.

"Thank you," the dark elf said in return to the waterskin, pausing to watch him turn back to the grasses to exact some overdue weeding, perhaps. She lifted the waterskin and drank, deeply. Greed did not become her but this day it was the necessity of all things. But, even for an elf such as herself, it left more than half the waterskin. Fiera afforded herself a single, pitiful sigh for her current predicament, stoppered the waterskin, and looked up just in time to see the man ... working the plants in a mortar and pestle. Where did he get those?

"Oh, my sweet desert bloom, no. No-no. I'm quite fine," she leaned to gently press black, gloved hands over his own to stop this foolish and present business of his, "that is completely unnecessary."

The dark elf afforded him an amused wince, "You've been social distancing for some time now, haven't you?"

 

[Teriteqas]

The grinding of the plant came to a halt as Fieravene put her hands over his own. The abtati just sort of stared at her after. Here Teriteqas was having wasted healing herbs for her and she wasn't even hurting. Shameful of him. He needed to preserve the fresh two and find use for his paste. Maybe use it on his own cuts and bruises later? Nothing should go to waste. It was the way of his people.

Eventually Teriteqas came to from his immediate survival mode thinking. How long had he just been sitting there silent? Unknown. A question was asked by his guest however and he was duty bound to provide an answer.

"In the wind. In the stars. Guiding words come in moments of silence and isolation." Teriteqas said as he set the mortar down in the sand. Well she had drank and didn't need any medical care it seemed. He was not hungry and she had said she was not so he could avoid finding anything for now. What should he do next? Prayer and crafting.... Wait, those were what he did. He was duty bound to entertain was he not?

Teriteqas began to look around the oasis. What was entertaining? All he saw was sand coating everything. Did she like to sew? He liked to sew. Where before he had been surrounded by water and plants was now nothing more than lumpy sand dunes. That was not right. This was a sacred place. A place of life and revival. He needed to fix this for himself, his guest, and more importantly to restore Abtatu's design.

"A moment Windwalker. Order must be restored." Teriteqas said in a serious and rather casual tone.

Removing the wrap from around his face, finally revealing to Fieravene what he looked like, Teriteqas moved a couple paces away. Once there he took in a deep breath. As his lungs filled with air so to did he feel filled with energy from all around. The breath was released. The sands around him seemed to blow slightly away. Another deep breath, another exhale. The sands moved even more. He repeated this slowly several times almost as if he was performing some ritual. Finally when he felt his body could store no more energy he took in one last breath.

Teriteqas began to move his arms in a sweeping, pushing motion as he breathed out steadily. The sand all across the oasis in front of him began to move as if carried by a strong force even though there was no wind. Slowly he moved his torso from one end of the oasis to the other. The sand rushed away from his gaze freeing up plants and waters as it did. His face began to pale then shift into colors more appropriate on Fieravene than him.

The young elf did not breath in once more or stop his motions until all of the sand, or atleast the surface layers, had been pushed off of the plants and upper layers of the water. When he finished he dropped to his knees coughing and haggardly gasping for breath. He shifted back to being pale then a red tint began to take hold. He seemed as if he had just survived drowning and no energy was left within him.

 

[Fieravene]

"In the wind. In the stars. Guiding words come in moments of silence and isolation."

Hm. A wane half-smirk shifted her expression, "Indeed they do."

What curious company she'd found herself with. Lucky, too, she suspected. The abtati had powers that would prove useful and an innocent willingness to help those under his care. This would be immensely helpful in recovering her horse from what she estimated to be a veritable mountain of sand. The dark elf sat quietly as he excused himself and watched as he performed an exhumation of the sand-devastation brought upon by the demon.

Always a treat to meet a fellow sorcerer. Fieravene reveled in the myriad schools of magic employed by those living upon the surface realm. The variety she'd encountered was second to none and the skill observed had never ceased to bring awe and amazement. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she followed the passage of sand particles with her eyes alone. The energy on the air was near palpable while this little place of reprieve slowly shifted back to its prior state. When he finished, gasping and sputtering, she pushed herself back to her feet stiffly and moved to stoop down where he'd collapsed.

"There," Fiera gently dusted sand from his shoulders and trappings before offering him back his waterskin, "you've done a lovely job. Someone somewhere is certainly very proud. Now, why don't you sit, rest, and recite to me some more of those wonderful scripture passages you seem to be so fond of."

 

[Teriteqas]

Crackling. Sand was shifting endlessly within his ears.
Blurring. Morning haze as cold night transformed into scorching day over water's surface.
Teriteqas could not feel the breath within his lungs. His organs, his muscles, screamed out for its return.
All the young elf could do was pray. Pray that Abtatu granted him breath, him life, once more.

Air returned to his lungs and his form rather quickly, although his body did not seem aware of this. Gasping still for breath, Teriteqas felt the brushing of sand off his shoulders and trappings. Kind words oozed past the ringing in his ears. The windwalker was trying to console and congratulate him. He didn't like it. All he had done was what he was expected to as one of the Nafas. It was the will of Abtatu to warden these little pockets of life for the survival of future generations, be they abtati or beast or otherwise. And she had the audacity to ask for scripture? It was sacred and should only be uttered when needed not when asked!

Teriteqas's head was light and fuzzy.

The sand elf very shakily and weakly pushed away the offer of the waterskin as he barely rose back to his feet. In an utterly exhausted breath he managed to squeak out, "I am no priest."

Teriteqas attempted to walk away but the first step became a stumble followed into a second then a third and a fourth. Straight into the water he fell. He struggled and flipped himself over onto his back so his nose and mouth were above drowning by sand or water. Into the sky he stared, giving up on moving again.

A lone cloud drifted by. It looked like a resurrection plant rolling, trundling, tumbling on high. Never would it find its place to be reborn so high above the crucial water below. Was it a sign? An omen? The observer did not know.

"Hush your voice. Silence your mind. Abtatu breaths truth in whispers."

Fieravene

 

[Fieravene]

The dark elf raised a wane brow at the man as he denied her assistance and promptly collapsed back into the waters. What was the saying? You can lead an Abtati to water but you can't expect them to make any sense.

She chuckled, shaking her head, and with a drawn groan did tip back to her rear at the edge of the sand for a sit. Elbows casually propped on knees, Fiera watched him for a moment in his preserved silence before deliberately breaking it again, "Your Abtatu doesn't speak to my people," a smile presented itself on her features, faintly smug, "where I come from, the Gods of the Overbright were devoured long ago and their worshippers were left in a daze of delirium believing them to still exist."

 

[Teriteqas]

The cloud was gone. It was replaced by endless blue sky. So little water was in it that it had become a pale reflection of the desert below. Or perhaps the desert was reflecting the sky. A crazed abtati from another tribe once stumbled upon the Nafas and spoke of directions being meaningless. Up was down. Down was right. None of it had meaning only our belief in it had meaning. He was allowed to stay with them but he did not stay long. Soon enough he drifted away. Drifted away like a resurrection plant not finding the water it needed.... Was that Teriteqas' fate as well?

Movement. Steps. Sitting. Leaning. The sounds reached Teriteqas' ears. Then the Windwalker spoke. She spoke the things unbelievers do. The faithless always had a similar set of things to say as if they were special somehow for not believing. But this one did have more to say. She did not believe but it was because she believed in something else. Respectable. He had more respect in her for starting this kind of conversation. While she was smug and trying to provoke him she was not being insulting about it. At least not to him.

"To live is to struggle. To struggle is to believe." Teriteqas stated as his eyes stayed on the sky above. "The vine can not live without the sun so it struggles to become closer to the sun. It grows. It grows and becomes closer to that which gives it life. In doing so it becomes able to stand the wind. It becomes able to stand the sand. Hardship has meaning. Hardship can cause growth. Growth allows one to overcome further hardship. But none of it is possible without belief for there is no meaning, no growth, without it."

The abtati reached with one hand towards the sky. "Abtatu does not need a strong voice. There is no need to scream louder than others. Those who follow the loudest voice find themselves to be the most deceived and the biggest fools. Listen to the whispers for that is where truth lives. Lies need to be heard. The truth does not."

Teriteqas looked over at Fieravene finally. "What do you believe Windwalker? Who do you listen to and allow to guide you when your steps feel shaky and loose?"

 

[Fieravene]

She'd walked the realm of the Overbright long enough to appreciate the countless beliefs that were held there. Gods upon Gods upon Gods. The dark elf felt no inclination to argue against any of it, rather it was all a breath of fresh air. Stories to be heard, just like anything else. What was the story of a God compared to the story of a simple man or elf doing what needed to be done? Or stories of men or women who believed themselves to be Gods?

"I believe in death," Fiera replied simply. With a casual glance about her immediate surroundings she moved to lay back on the sand, content to find comfort in the darkness for the evening, "for me, it is the only way forward."

 

[Teriteqas]

I believe in death. For me, it is the only way forward.

Teriteqas had not expected something so deep in response to his rather vague question. The Abtati had little in the way to speak on what would happen during and after death. The focus of their teachings was more on the present. For those outside of the Nafas there was much focus on the past despite how foolish and impossible it was to reclaim moments that already existed.

The abtati just laid there for a bit silent as he stared to the pale blue sky. "Death is a mystery only solved by experiencing it. I do not know what comes after but I do not fear it."

His body still exhausted and his mind still light from his earlier efforts, Teriteqas got himself sat up in the water. Then he got himself back to his feet. Very carefully he slowly made his way back to the dry sands and sat near enough to Fieravene to hold a proper discussion. His gaze was locked onto her as his legs were crossed and his hands came to rest in his lap.

"Tell me Windwalker. Why do you worship death above all?"

 

[Fieravene]

Hands cupped under her head, eyes closed for the duration of silence, Fieravene had been prepared to sleep. No such luck. A brow lifted at his musings from the water, red eye slivering open just enough to peer at him before closing shut again. Pointed ears twitched at the sound of his movement through the water, the sensation of footsteps through the sand. That hollow reverberation as he took a seat could be felt through her back and she needn't open her eyes again to know, with a fair amount of precision, where he'd situated himself.

A stifled laugh escaped her throat, "I don't worship death," Fiera lifted a hand to dismiss the notion with a gesture, "I believe in it. Big difference."

 

[Teriteqas]

The sand elf just sat there quietly. The Windwalker's words were strange to him. As strange as everything else about her. What sort of hard lesson had Abtatu brought to him now? Was his offerings of first drink not been adamant and reverent enough? Yes. He should have been more of both, but that had nothing to do with this lesson. It was a new path that Abtatu was forging for the Nafas and so challenges such as this were sure to show up out of the sand as seemingly randomly as this one had. He just needed to face it and learn what he was meant to learn.

"The difference, what is it? Is not worship belief in something?" Teriteqas asked Fieravene in an utterly serious tone. If she cared to look at him then his express would reflect the same from his face. He was clearly focused on her now and ready to absorb whatever it was she had to teach.

With the dusk closing in, or at least things getting darker, a moment from under his wrap began. It was slow and stationary at first but then began to grow more erratic. Back and forth it seemed to race across his collarbone until suddenly a little jerboa erupted forth from between the cloth. It tumbled down to the sand in the elf's empty lap. It stood up and began to clean its fuzzy little face with its short little front paws.

 

[Fieravene]

"My dear, I believe you are confusing belief with faith..." Fiera eyed the other elf as he moved to sit nearby, finding the man to be curiously naive in his line of questioning. Clearly indoctrinated and understandably inexperienced with the world. Had he ever ventured where his feet did not trod upon sand? Made her all the more grateful she'd left the bleakness of the Underdark when she had. How open and freed her mind had become over the last several centuries of wandering.

She blinked at the creature before closing her eyes again, "but even faith and worship are not one in the same."

 

[Teriteqas]

The Windwalker's words were intriguing. It was the sort of discussion he remembered having in his short time traveling the path of the priest. But it was cut short as quickly as all the others. Perhaps he had missed out on this very discussion on the differences between belief, faith, and worship. It was something he did not know and the lack of this knowledge intrigued him very much.

With the jerboa now in his lap, the abtati idly began to pet it with one finger. It reveled in the action for several moments before seeming to have had enough as it hopped off and over his leg to drink from the oasis. The elf's eyes never left Fieravene face as he contemplated her words.

"Then you believe in death but do not worship it." Teriteqas said as he mulled another question around in his head. "What do you do then? How do you live?"

 

[Fieravene]

What -

How did she live?

What did she do?

The dark elf's eyes fluttered open again, panning slowly from the pristine night sky to the sun-kissed skin of his face presently cast in shadow of moonlight.

"I live in the moment, with an open mind, an eager heart, and a hungry soul ready to devour all the world has to offer in the ways of knowledge, experience, and wisdom. Be there no corner of Arethil my feet won't wonder and my eyes won't see. No culture I won't experience and no story I won't hear. And you," her gaze undressed the man of his unflinching doctrines, she shifted on the sand to lay on her side, propping herself up slightly on an elbow, "feet afeared of leaving your golden sands that your heart might lose sight of your beloved God. That's a mortal's fear. We elves have lived too long to remain stationary and stagnant."

 

[Teriteqas]

The abtati frowned at her words. But he held his tongue. This Windwalker wished to upset him. She mocked his people and their God.... But perhaps that was the lesson here. A new path needed to be forged. It was Abtatu's will that a new way of life be available for his tribe. They roamed the sands using the lessons they had learned and seeking the new ones. Yet new lessons were becoming rather hard to find. Perhaps that was the reason this woman was sent tumbling his way. She was a Windwalker and so much the wind herself. His tattoo was that of the resurrection plant. With no water it dried up within itself and relied on the wind to bring it to a new place it could root and thrive. If only for a day. Was that what this was? Was she the wind to bring him to where this new path laid?

Teriteqas had grown silent. He withdrew in on himself as he pondered Fieravene wisdom. Eventually he returned with renewed vigor.

"You are wise Windwalker. Perhaps you are correct. My people do fear change. My tribe is shunned because we see the folly in a false prophecy of a god king that will somehow return the days of old upon our people. We know they are over and must move forward beyond them. They are certainly stationary and stagnant as you have said. But perhaps even my own people are becoming so as well. We seek the lessons that Abtatu has to teach us. We seek them in the stones and sands left to us. But these lessons have been becoming fewer and long between of late. Perhaps it is Abtatu's will some of us begin to live like you. Perhaps I was sent out here to meet you and learn to leave the sands for the longevity and sake of my people."