Disobedience is a Reflection of the Parents

Ralla · 12-29-2011, 06:10 PM

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Forgive the long lead-up >_> Should've saved this for SoSuWriMo XD Back-dated to the 27 (Nootau: Visible)

The house was certainly different from before.

In the tree home there were two medium-sized huts in the giant oak--one for living and one for the observatory. Beneath the tree was a simple hearth and some poles holding line for drying laundry. A tarp was stretched from the tree's massive trunk to maybe two yards away, piles of dry logs stacked and ready for use. The observatory, while plain-looking on the outside, was decorated with constellations and the story of the tribe on the walls within, all with red, yellow, and blue paint. A table in the center of the room was filled with sand held in high ridges, and a plank of wood would be placed on top if a flat surface was needed. Three shelves held books and scrolls and sheaves of paper--some written in, some blank--as well as writing materials ranging from ink to charcoal. On a smaller desk off to the side laid some half-finished papers--an inkwell capped neatly with the quill lying beneath a rock, that it might not fly away with the breeze. An opening in the roof had a rope that, when pulled one way, would shut the opening, and when pulled the other would open in; it let the sunlight stream through then, and it would do the same for the moon later.

The living house, while only slightly larger, could be then reached by planks of wood hammered into the side of the tree like a makeshift stairs. The platform that the house rested on was firm and steady, and the pulley that was used to get water up and down on a rope was still working after so much use. The bucket was currently gone, someone having taken it to fetch water. The house itself had two windows--one near the front and the other the back--with wooden planks for shutters that could be hitched into place. A simple table with three stools (not that they were frequently used, as meals were often taken down by the hearth) was cleared with a bowl of nuts and berries present for whoever might feel peckish at the moment--the mother of the house did not mind if the occasional bird or squirrel swooped in to nibble. A stand with a wash-basin and a slightly-chipped mirror on top was situated next to a barrel full of water, which was taken for both drinking and washing sparsely. And all of this was the simple parts; the actual impression of the house was far more wild.

The walls were lined with tapestries and masks and all sorts of treasures that had been collected--some old and rusted, some newer and more cleanly. What could be said for certain was that it was a motley assortment, without much rhyme or reason. A blanket hanging from the thatched roof segregated the common area and the sleeping area behind, which was quite full in itself. One corner was piled high with blankets and pillows in a mass, it consisting of a bed in itself. A hammock then hung between two poles (also rooted through the floor and to the roof), swinging gently beneath some hanging colored glass and baubles that sparkled and shined when light hit them. Connected then to one of the poles and to the side of the house was a leather hammock stretched to be more like a bed, big enough for an adult to sleep in and also layered with a blanket or two. More recently another blanket-and-pillow monstrosity had been assembled to accommodate a newly-returned family member. Even in there, the treasures and things collected dominated the walls.

By all accounts it should have been a homey, close home. But as Ralla stood looking at it all--a few forgotten candle stubs resting in her hands that would need replacing--she did not feel the warmth that had once permeated the walls.

Ever since Kemo's disappearance, things had gone down slowly from there. Ralla had had to defend her position as a Councilwoman from those who thought her unfit as a 'disgraced' woman, and she had had to raise four children on her own. Of course she had been given some help by others of the tribe--and thank the moon for them--but it wasn't quite the same. Duty had overpowered her, and she had neglected her children more than she should've. When Maska came, and when she was forced to send her youngest three away for safety...that was when she regretted it most. Her brother and brother-in-law had overseen one of the most crucial stages in their development, when she and their father should've been the ones to guide them through it. Now they were young teens, and she wanted nothing more than to spend more time with them.

But when her youngest son came back with news that his twin had fallen off a cliff and died... Ralla's heart broke again. Time after time she wondered how many times it would have to break before it was enough--before the moon was through punishing her for running away from her native tribe. But time and time again she was assured that AniWaya was where she belonged, and that everything was bad before it got better. And they did, even though they were melancholy times. Maska was taken away and the tribe was liberated, but Dawali... Her mentor and the one that had taken her in had also been taken. The short journey the white woman had taken as a missionary service for the tribe would be her last for a long while, and upon her return things seemed infinitely better. The tribe was back on its feet, Ulilohi had stepped in, and Ralla had been given the chance to reclaim her place in the pack hierarchy. And then a miracle occurred--Ahiga had returned.

Of course suspicions were raised and there had been much stern and worrisome conversations. Above all, Ralla had been thankful that her son was alive and well. She had later approached Alaster about his apparent lie, but when the young boy did not say anything, she knew that it was because he was protecting his brother from her wrath--and that was the end of that. But Ahiga...he had returned so strange and changed... Ralla had the feeling that if it were not for Alaster and Ahiga's close bond, perhaps he never would've returned...and that hurt the mother. She had not had the chance to talk to her son about his disappearance and about...well, everything; she was no longer the innocent, carefree wolfess she had been when she arrived in AniWaya--she was tougher, stricter, and yet... Some things never changed. She still loved openly, but now she found that her trust, while easily given, was hard to win back once lost. Even Alaster in his innocence was on her watch, and Ahiga... She wondered just how much his disappearance was accident and how much was planned.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks.

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