Private Tales Scorched Earth

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
She wrote her letter to Belduhr, which was a laborious process. She was so tired of it by the end as to be actually pissy when Raigryn pointed out errors. Fife felt bad after sleeping off her temper and spent a day attempting to make up for it, but she had been tired of being wrong when she thought she was right. Nonetheless, the letter was dispatched and off to this destination.

Life had found its rhythm once more. This time, however, she didn't fight the calming, easy way it took her. And why would she? Life here made her happy, gave her a quiet sense of peace. She understood that now. Perhaps it was not a true sense of belonging, but she reveled in her new skills, Raigryn's good humor, and her general comfort. It was safe and she thrived. For the time being.

Fife practiced the balancing Raigryn had taught her. She spoiled their horses. She began establishing loose signs with Ylerial, and used her writing practice at the end of the day to help her mentor catch up -- a lesson with dual purpose. As easily as he corrected her spelling with chalk on the slate, she fixed his hands. It was almost normal to touch him... every now and again. And only when he was severely off and showing him didn't convey the nuance of the gesture.

Time had passed without her realizing it. The days bled together, but she was anxious for Belduhr's reply. And the morning she finally received it, Fife had already bathed early and came back to eat with Raigryn as per their morning custom.

It was his day of silence, however, and it was already odd as she came in and sat down with a wave and a smile. No sooner had she perched at the edge of her stool, there was a voice and her brow hiked up in interest. Someone to see them? And with mail! She was on her feet before him, bouncing to the tent door to collect their letters.

And a... package? She accepted the small parcel and came back in looking absolutely timid as she set it down on the table beside their breakfast. Breaking the seal, she looked to the signature of the long letter and sighed. Her worst fears were confirmed. Belduhr.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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"Th...." Raigryn started before stopping himself. He allowed himself an exasperated sigh. This was harder than he had thought he was going to be.

That is a long...message.

There hadn't been a sign for letter. With so few people who could read and write it was hardly going to be in their sign language vocabulary.

The last couple of weeks had been a calm and predictable pace. Raigryn was no longer very good at staying in one place for long, but the itch to travel hadn't started yet.

Two weeks also hadn't been long enough for him to stop feeling a flutter down in his belly when she sassed him with that mischievous grin. In some respects he felt that realising who she really was shouldn't have changed everything. He was her mentor and guardian first. It would pass.

You should look at it. Ask me for...help.

Raigryn was certain there would be some words and phrases in there that she couldn't understand.

What did he send?
 
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This was turning out to be much more educational and a lot less casual. It was such a long letter, and Fife was daunted by its length. It had taken her hours to write hers, but she had no doubt that the highly literate dwarf had written this out as quickly as he could have spoken so many words.

It shouldn't have surprised her, knowing Belduhr, but it did.

I don't have time before training, she replied, adding a flick of humor. It would take her a while to read all this -- and the point was for her to read it, not him -- and she still had lessons to get to. Aretta wouldn't excuse tardiness because she'd been reading.

So Fife turned to the box, curiosity rising even as a knot of dread built in her stomach.

Inspect this now? Message later? She would be itching with curiosity all day, but this was the more pressing concern in her mind. How much had he paid for this to be sent this far? What in the gods' names had he felt compelled to send them in the first place?

Withdrawing the knife from her belt, she loosened the top of the box enough to get her slim fingers between it and the lip and pull it open. It likely wouldn't have been too difficult for Raigryn, but her little arms still struggled somewhat.

As soon as she opened it, she was greeted by a myriad of scents. There were two notes on top of something wrapped in fabric, one with her name and one with Raigryn's. She handed him his and remained standing by the box to open hers.

She read the first word and her face brightened. Fife didn't read any further before giving the box a long, measuring look. Twin urges of irritation and humor rose and were quietly quelled, lifting her eyes skyward and drawing a long breath to calm herself. She began reading again, but didn't make it very far before she got to a word she wasn't really sure she knew the meaning of.

Red as a ripe cherry, she held the note out and pointed to the word she didn't know for Raigryn to explain to her. Textiles.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
Fife always seemed to be quick to a knife. He was certain that she wasn't taking additional lessons from Maellorn. He was mostly certain. He actually grinned when he recognised the smell in the air. It was soap but with a variety of different scents. He wondered how the idemni would take to that.

Raigryn took the note and turned it around. Of course it was a lesson about soap to go with the soap.

He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He frowned.

The issue was that he sounded out words for Fife. He had always assumed she sounded them out inside her own head too as she read or wrote. Raigryn didn't have a word for textiles either. He supposed this was very much the point of this day. A glimmer of frustration shone through his mental barriers for Fife to perceive.

The word makes sense in those words. Clothes are made of...

He swiped a hand over his tunic, pinched it and held it out.
 
He was smiling and she was taking that as the start of a good reception to their parcel. And she'd forgotten when she'd pointed out the word that he couldn't answer back. Her brow furrowed and she felt his frustration. Gods, it was early to be running into this already, but did she know that feeling. Fife waited patiently and watched as he gestured to and pinched his tunic.

Cloth? Textiles was just cloth? Fife's frown deepened but she offered a simple nod as she looked at the note again. Why not just say cloth, Belduhr? she complained inwardly.

She kept reading, however, only stumbling over medicinal. Her face was still very red when she put it down and turned once more to the box. With a heavy sigh, she drew back the fabric neatly folded over the contents to reveal plenty of soap.

I asked him for information, she explained. My mistake. Fife glanced up at Raigryn. She had added the last note of question to the letter without him seeing because she had thought she would surprise him. Well...

Fife pushed the box toward him and smiled. The closest word they had in sign was ambush, which seemed appropriate in Belduhr's case, but not in gifting it to him.

It doesn't smell like flowers, she said simply.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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It does not, he signed, laughing. He carefully pulled one of the roughly shaped blocks from the box, watching Fife to see if she was fine with that.

Not.

Raigryn gave up and pulled the chalk towards him. He scribbled lavender quickly. He had never written that for her before but she could mentally sound it out.

This is difficult and you are being understanding. It is hard to...think... Raigryn then pointed to Fife. It was no surprise that they did not have a word for imagination in sign, but hopefully she got the idea. He was being overly dramatic too. Barely into the day. She had lived like this for years.

May I? This evening? He asked, pointing to the bars. There was one that smelled of cedarwood and he passed it to Fife. It would make a change.
 
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She chewed her lip and sat down opposite him as he picked up one of the blocks and looked to her like he needed her permission before he gave it a cursory sniff. He immediately struggled with a way to say what he was attempting to express, and she watched with interest as he wrote on the slate, head tilted to the side to see it before he ever turned it.

Lavender. It didn't smell like lavender.

Fife laughed hard at that, absently covering her smile with the back of her hand as if to hide it. She nodded, a simple affirmation. That had been the intent. He had complained about the flowers so damn much.

Looking between his hands and his face as he signed, she smiled warmly. I never had a voice. I never lost it, she signed slowly so he could keep up. I can't imagine saying what I want.

She used the same formula to respond, also substituting think about where she assumed he meant imagine. Writing the letter had been difficult for that reason. She could say anything she could spell (or misspell) and that had been daunting. She was patient with him because she knew so keenly how frustrating their limited communication was. Just as he couldn't imagine what it had been like for her, she couldn't even begin to fathom just saying anything.

He asked to use the soaps and Fife nodded. It is yours. I like flowers. He held out the soap, and she took it to smell it with a grin. It was bitter and sweet simultaneously, and it made her think of wooden boxes and campfires, of traveling through forests of evergreens. Her smile widened. It was a nice smell, and almost as far from lavender as a person could get.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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But there still must have been times that you wanted a voice, he signed. He had enough words that he could put that sentence together emphatically. To tell a person something.

He could not take himself too seriously when Fife still wore the last echoes of her laughter. His hatred of lavender was going to remain a topic of mirth for the rest of their lives and he was fine with that. He picked out another smaller blood from the package. Some had clearly melted in the heat and reformed themselves.

Rose, he wrote on the tablet. He passed it over. Would that suit me if you like flowers so much?
 
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Always, Fife immediately replied. There hadn't been a moment she hadn't wanted to be able to say something, anything. But wanting to fly didn't make imagining how it felt to actually fly it any easier.

She put the other block back to take the next he offered, reading the word with a widening grin. Rose. And it smelled like a rose bush in full bloom.

His question was odd, and Fife raised a brow. Better than a rank boot, she immediately thought, but wasn't about to say that to him. She nodded.

I like this one. She smelled it again, inhaling slow and deep, then set it down. Do you like it? You like flowers, not... Fife pointed to the word lavender.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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He supposed that if they had lots more slates they could surround themselves in words that they didn't know how to sign and point at them all day long. They had one slate and more lessons to attend.

Raigryn had warned Maellarn of the way this day would work. She had approved. Then stated that he should have tried remaining silent for a week and eating only that which could be stolen.

I do not like it very much. It would be nice to have a change. I will take the plates.

As he stood up he laughed at the sight of how long Belduhr 's letter was. He was not a dwarf of brevity.
 
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Fife could only nod, placing the soaps back into the box and folding the cloth back over them. She laid the lid over it to at least attempt to keep them a little cooler in the warm tent. Some looked like they'd had a rough journey, after all. She folded her letter from Belduhr and placed one of the larger pebbles from her collection on it to make sure it stayed put.

Skipping to the door, she slipped into her shoes and put on her sword. With a bright grin, she waved.

I'll see you at our lesson. She didn't know what he had planned to do for the day and now that his hands were full she wasn't going to make him try to sign around plates.

With a final wave, she ducked out and hurried along the path to her lesson with Aretta.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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Aretta was sat cross-legged in silence. At least she was silent with her eyes closed. There was the persistent soft rasp as she drew the whetstone over her blade. Caring for weapons approached a religion for the idemni. She continued in silence until Ylerial arrived.

Then, without opening her eyes, she drew a wrap from the floor behind her. Slowly she drew the leather around the blade. She started with a small cap across the tip and worked her way down, tying it around the guard.

She finally opened her eyes, waving towards their wooden swords. Aretta dropped her weight and raised her sword above her head. She held her left hand, palm out towards the two students.

"Defend yourselves."
 
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Fife was never sure what to expect for her daily weapons training. Most days were simple repetition of previous lessons and gradually building from the foundation that had been established.

Today, things were noticeably different. She was quiet, watching Aretta as she sharpened her blade, working from memory and skill without even looking at her work. Ylerial came, and she began wrapping the blade with a leather strap, and Fife glanced at the elf as if she might know what today's lesson held for them.

When Aretta finally opened her eyes, she gestured to their practice swords and instructed them to defend. A cold, hard lump formed in Fife's stomach. Raigryn had suspected she would soon face more difficult adversaries, but Aretta?

She went to get her practice sword, taking a defensive stance. There was no question that Aretta's skill eclipsed theirs but she would do her best.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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She did not rush. There were no acrobatics. Aretta used a single, light sword but her footwork was slow and precise as she stalked the two students. She went for Ylerial first, who was closest.

Aretta feinted high and came in low. The first clash putting the elf on the defensive. Aretta launched into an offensive routine. It was no so different from the kata they had been learning, but each movement flowed like water into the next and Ylerial was soon back pedalling.
 
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Perhaps it was good fortune she had been further away. She watched as Aretta connected first with Ylerial. Their instructor was as even and collected in physical prowess as her emotions. Smooth. Controlled.

Fife had the advantage of watching first, but that was intimidating in a different respect. She drew a calming breath. Aretta was testing them, as most of their lessons did. If she could remain as equally calm under pressure, Fife knew the counters to these maneuvers.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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She felt heat color her cheeks at the correction. Oh. She supposed that made sense. Fife still wasn't accustomed to doing things together. A year didn't correct over a decade of behavior. It was far from the worst mistake she had made, but she felt bad for Ylerial.

Only a little chagrined, she corrected her error and closed the distance.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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It was fortunate that Fife wouldn't understand the brief string of curses that escaped Ylerial's lips in elven. She was desperately holding her own and had taken several solid slaps to her limbs.

Aretta didn't let Fife take the initiative. She stepped smartly away from the elf and transitioned into a sharp chop for Fife's hip. Their was venom in the strike from the twist around the trunk.
 
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She hadn't even attempted to engage before Aretta left Ylerial. Shedding her guilt, her sword was ready when Aretta swung toward her hip. As Fife was well aware from sparring with Ylerial alone, the ability to think on her feet was better than any memorization and form.

Still, the block that met Aretta's swing wasn't as careless as her mistake two weeks earlier. She'd meant that chop, but Fife kept her eyes open for her next move. No doubt, she'd be hitting hard enough to smart.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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Two things happened together. Ylerial, full of fire from being struck came back at Aretta. It forced their teacher to make a defensive movement for the first time.

Raigryn's silhouette ducked through the entrance to the tent. Aretta didn't even spare him a glace.

She turned Ylerial's blade aside neatly and shifted her weight back. Aretta swung towards Fife but pulled it short, hoping to keep her at bay with reach.
 
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The elf came back mad as a cat and Aretta blocked it effortlessly. But there was a sliver of light and her cautious awareness of people got the better of her. Fife glanced toward it -- a bad moment to take her eyes off of her instructor. She didn't have time to put her sword between them to stop it, so she used her forearm. It smarted, but it was better than the covered blade hitting her ribs.

Aretta didn't follow through, but her second shortcoming of the day was as plain as the throbbing in her arm. Fife stepped back and reestablished her footing, jaw clenched and cheeks bright. Of course it had to have been Raigryn. It seemed like the only time she ever messed up was when he showed up.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
"Focus! Your surroundings are important. Let your mind soak them up, but my feet and my sword are the threats."

Aretta's voice was the melody to the metronome of leather-bound sword striking wood over and over. She was backing away now, trying to stop them from surrounding her. She was trying to force them to take the initiative on footwork and placement. They hadn't been forced to join forces against someone before so it was a rather sudden lesson.

Raigryn grimaced and stood very still in the doorway for a few awkward moments. Then he moved to take a seat, treading very carefully.
 
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Fife didn't look toward Raigryn again, focused at the task at hand and more than a little chagrined about it. She knew that

It was one thing knowing what to do and another how to do it. Aretta withdrew, but she followed. In general, it was not unlike herding a cat into a corner, knowing that it was going to scratch you if you didn't grab it first. Even then, it was probably still going to scratch you.

So she worked toward flanking her, or allowing Ylerial to. Fife was hardly slow, but the elf was quicker. And timing. Their strikes had been forced to a staggered tempo.

Fife stepped to the side as she was deflected, but instead of returning immediately, she paused for a moment before moving in time with Ylerial.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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"Better!" declared Aretta.

Yet even as the complement came she seemed to speed up. She was not naturally quicker than either of her students. She simply flowed between positions so effortlessly that she moved between a block and a counter attack without the slightest pause in between.

Aretta held firm at that pace, as if offering them the opportunity to adapt and overcome.
 
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She began to pace herself with Ylerial rather than focusing on Aretta alone. It wasn't necessarily easy, but she hadn't expected it to be. Their instructor quickened the pace, and Fife rose to the challenge. She shook off the remainder of her chagrin and embarrassment and found her focus like every other day. Her attention narrowed to the weight of the sword in her hand and tracking Aretta's figure.

And she knew what Aretta was doing, out-maneuvering her was the challenge. Fife was hardly a quitter, however. As with every other lesson, she learned best on her feet.

Fife continued to press around, doing her damnedest to flank her against her attempts to keep her from doing just that.

// Raigryn Vayd //​
 
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