Journey to Lands Far Far Away (RP)

Ezmaray listens intently to Albert’s response. She ponders for a bit, finding it… satisfactory.

After his question to her about why she'd joined them, she hesitates.

"I need money," she finally says simply. At first it seems like that’s all she might say on the matter, but then she realizes how mercenary that sounds and offers in explanation: "… for karmic debt." Then again… That alone also doesn’t sound great. She exhales, then explains: "I have five sisters. Three are married, but two youngest are not. My father is trapper, like me, but… getting older. His hands are…" She lifts her hands up and clenches them, not sure how to name the problem. "They bring him pain. He cannot hold hunting blade well."

Ezme lets her clenched hands drop to her sides, then leans over to pick up a poker stick. Her eyes are fixed on the flames as she adjusts the logs and continues. "Of course, it fell on me as bhavanti to fill his shoes, to provide. And so I did. But five dowries is much to pay. And things have not been looking good, especially for Keia — the youngest."

The foreign woman closes her eyes and lowers her head, her expression suddenly regretful. "I had chance to fix all problems our family faced," she says lowly, solemnly. "But I did not take it. I shirked my duty, and in so doing betrayed the trust of my sisters." There is clearly more to this story, but Ezme opens her eyes and glances up at the group, suddenly looking a bit bashful about having admitted this much.

"And so… karmic debt," she says lightly. She straightens and shrugs nonchalantly, as if it were nothing.

Roald listens to the conversation but doesn't engage. He has no idea what to say.
Such responsibility, how much would a dowry be? I'll ask her another time.
He feels a bit uneasy, what if the job pays too little... Or nothing at all if they lose the packages.
Damnit, now I feel responsible too.
He stares into the fire and waits a while in silence. Then produces a semi-fake yawn, indicating they should hit the sack so he can begin his watch. It's late enough as it is.
''excuse me''

Roald stands and walks a few meters to water the bushes.

"Wait!" Lille signals, standing up with the bear. "I can help with your problems," she tells it soothingly. Instead of trying to sit with it again, she walks beside it, slowly angling them away from the camp as they weave through the trees. She muses briefly on the bear she had seen near her home last year, trying some of the Special mushrooms that Jordash liked. I guess that bear has unusual tastes.

Thinking along those lines, she quickly refocuses on her current companion. "What kind of sweet things do you like?" The question is a little vague and hard to convey, but she uses her mental connection to add the sensations of ripe blackberries and sweet honey as examples.

"I see." Albert says. He wasn't exactly sure what a karmic debt was, but apparently it involved money which made a lot of sense to him. "I'm sure you did what you did for good reason." He watches her reaction at this, trying to gauge if that's true or not. "Life doesn't always go the way we would have wanted it. But that makes us who we are, no?"

He looks at the packages. "I cannot promise you mounds of gold, but these package should earn us a decent wage."

After a brief pause, he chuckles suddenly. "Ha! A poem just popped into my head, thinking of Necusle."
"There once was a man from Necusle
Who managed to get in a tussle
Twelve men he'd defeat
But they kicked out his teeth
Now all he can eat is a mussel"

Ezmaray simply shrugs and averts her eyes following Albert's comment about the reasoning behind her decision. She's clearly not very comfortable reflecting on the consequences of her actions. Hard to judge whether she would make the same choices again were she presented the option. She grimaces humorlessly at Albert's silly poem and shakes her head, refraining from comment.

To Theo's question about the meaning of bhavanti, the woman explains, "Bhavanti is almost like third gender in my culture. When family has failed to conceive male heir, sometimes they name one daughter bhavanti, to be raised and treated like boy. Bhavanti are dressed like boys. Have hair cut like boys. Go to school like boys. They can work alongside their fathers, make income, act as protective escorts... etc. This typically only lasts at most until puberty, then she is given real, female name and expected to adopt womanly ways." Ezmaray's lips momentarily press together in a flat expression devoid of enthusiasm. "But I am rebel. I declined to make switch. So they still call me Ezmaray."

Catching Roald's cue, the foreign woman rises and starts preparing her bedroll. She lays it down next to the tent. As she does so, she goes on: "Bhavanti are given placeholder names at birth -- usually some sort of predator. It helps distinguish them..." Bedding prepared, she carefully lowers herself down, turning her gaze to the sky. "In my country, ezmaray means 'lion.'" She chuckles a tired sigh and closes her eyes before muttering under her breath: "Always identified more with canines, myself, though."

Turning deftly, Lille stays beside the bear, though she is torn inside. Guiding it away from the group was the goal, and now she had achieved that. She should go rest or hunt, but the dampness lingering on her feet reminds her of the bear’s pitiful state. Her indecision ends abruptly, and she refocuses on the problem.

She tries to think back over things that Jordash had taught her. Lille reaches down as they walk, scooping up two different leaves. Then she offers them, one at a time, along with her question: "Is the honey light like this, or dark like this?" With the lighter golden leaf she includes the sweet taste of regular honey. With the darker reddish leaf, she adds a bitter note along with the sweetness. As they walk, she listens for the buzzing of early morning bees and looks around for any flowers they might be visiting.

"Wait!" Lille puts a hand gently on the bear’s back to get its attention. This honey is gone. I can help you find more." Withdrawing her hand, she stands to the side for the bear to get down. When the way is clear, she tries to examine the hive remains and tree bits, along with any deceased or slow moving bees, for irregularities.

Lille takes in her loss of control over the situation with a stoic resignation. All things perish eventually, and the chances of her saving this one bear are rapidly dwindling. But Jordash had also taught her that humans are capable of greatly upsetting the balance of life. Fixing an imbalance is immensely harder, and Lille doesn’t have any strong clues that this situation was the result of human actions. Still, if she can gather a little more information, perhaps she can keep this problem from becoming more wide-spread.

The thoughts flash through her head in an instant, and she darts in towards the tree almost as fast. She stays as far to the side as possible while still checking on the pieces and insects. Lille glances up as the honey falls, and touches her pinky to a tiny bit of it. She sniffs the small sample, relying on her reflexes to get her away if the branch cracks.

"I see." Albert says after Ezme explains her name and mannerisms. "Well, no matter what, it's good to have you around." He says with a comforting smile. "Definitely an upgrade from Humphrey!" He laughs at his semi-joke.

"Time for some rest." He gets up to lay down near the fire and close his eyes. "Wake me when it's my turn."

"Theo... I suspect you would be most comfortable in tent. I give you my spot.... Tonight, I commune with stars." The drowsy trapper says all this without opening her eyes, then drifts off to sleep....

- Ezme's Dream -

A giant moon hovers low, shining like a large eyeglass that peers over the oceanic horizon. Distantly it spies a form perched on a high promontory. The thrumming pound of a ceremonial drum carries over the water, but also into a darkening forest that stands witness at this figure’s back. A voice dances hand-in-hand with the drum – her words ancient, the subtlety of their meaning long lost to time. Beside our solitary musician, a bonfire crackles, sending sparks up into the sky. The scene is simultaneously loud and peaceful, evoking both energy and a sense of hush.

As if mirroring this dichotomy, Ezmaray is both in this scene and yet… not. Her mind is flitting away from the memory, prancing across dreamscapes to rejoin with the comforting familiar: Adala and Keia’s broad smiles and bare feet, kicking up the sand in their dance; the tip of her mother’s paintbrush, glowing with the bioilluminescent pigments that now decorate her young sisters’ faces, arms, and legs; the wafting scent of burning sage from the elders’ sky paintings; the call and response of the women’s voices and the men’s drums; the taste and satisfaction of the prepared tribute and feast.

The first full moon of summer was the only time of year that she ever wished she’d been raised like her sisters. She longed to move to the drums with them, to glory in the body she’d been blessed with and bask in the admiration of men…. This would never be. All the same, she’d found joy in her drumming and was content to live vicariously through her sisters as she watched them spin and sway. But now even that was lost to her....

These traditions, they grounded her – helped her to feel that she did, indeed, belong… reminded her what she fought and lived for. Now what was she? A renegade daughter playing a lone drum – her name a taboo word never to be spoken, doomed to be remembered with resentment and then entirely forgotten....

Lille frowns at the elusive moving things and retreats to a safe distance with a few samples. Setting them on a small rock, she starts searching the area. She spirals out from the tree, looking for tracks besides her own or the bear’s, and for signs of humans or anything out of the ordinary.

Ezmaray opens her eyes and glances briefly at Theo when he first starts to speak, then gazes up at the stars as she listens. She furrows her brow uncertainly after his question. Upon hearing his sudden "good night" she looks his way, watching wordlessly as he recedes into the tent.

Ezmaray turns her eyes back to the heavens as she listens to the lad settling down to rest. Questions well up within her. In the distance, the night bugs start up their peaceful chorus; the trapper exhales.... Her questions would have to wait.

"Goodnight..." Ezmaray finally calls softly. She closes her eyes to sleep....